He nodded.
“Where does your love for art come from?”
Ian’s eyes wrinkled with devilment. “A girl I was dating my first semester at Stanford introduced me.” Cassie laughed. “She conned me into being a studio model. Let’s say my love for fine art lasted longer than my feelings for her. Can you imagine?”
* * *
Cassie laughed again and studied his jaw and dimples. He had long eyelashes, sparkling eyes, full lips, a well-toned body, and a tall frame. “Hmm, a studio model. I bet your classes were full. Your frame has many sketchable points.” She placed a hand in front of her mouth, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. “Did I say that out loud?”
“I’ll have to pose for you someday,” he offered.
Cassie stared down into her hands. She had not drawn in six years.
“The nice thing about being financially secure, it comes with the ability to purchase pieces from artists I enjoy. I have some favorites such as Titian, De Kooning, LeRoy Neiman, Leighton, Picasso, Monet, a few by Renoir… and Sargent.”
Cassie bit her lip. “I bet you love Sargent’s,Madame X.”
Ian looked at her with a predatory gaze. “I appreciate a beautiful woman.”
Cassie grabbed her glass and braced herself. Her emotional barriers were coming down.Let him go, Cassie. He can’t possibly want someone like you.
The waitress arrived with their meals. Old-fashioned comfort food—meatloaf, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, tossed salad, and home-baked cornbread.
“So enough about me. What’s your story, sweetheart?”
Cassie was startled by the endearment. She’d learned Garett, her former fiancé, said nice things as a means to an end.
“There’s not a lot to tell. I grew up in DC with my parents and brother, Tommy; they died about twelve years ago. Our dad was a Naval Academy grad with Uncle Luke. They were best friends.
“My paternal grandmother was a prolific artist. The tulip paintings in my home were hers. My paternal grandfather was an accountant who loved to sculpt. My dad was an only child whose parents believed access to art breathed spirit into a child. Ellis Art Finds started as a way to bring fine art to people who wouldn’t have the opportunity under normal circumstances to go to a museum. They started the first programs in DC to bring art to underprivileged children. As their vision grew, the company evolved into procurement and appraisal for the public and private sector. It also sought out new artists from all over the world and helped proffer exhibitions.
“While most children played with crayons, I was given charcoals. I was painting with watercolors by eight, oil by twelve. I loved to let my thoughts go free on canvas.” Her tone was melancholy.
“My parents were high school sweethearts—love at first sight. All that gooey stuff that embarrasses kids. They were so affectionate with each other.” Cassie drifted into the memory. “My mom impressed upon us that just because we had opportunities, we weren’t better than anyone else, just luckier.
“Don’t get me wrong, she loved the finer things in life. She is responsible for my shoe habit.” Cassie wiggled her foot to show off her stylish footwear. Ian took a deep breath.
“Mom was a tenacious fundraiser and organizer. She chose who or what cause to donate to with caution. Her to-do lists had to-do lists.
My parents pulled us into that life as soon as we were old enough. ‘You are an extension of us. You’re role models.’ Tommy was four years younger than me and all boy. He wanted to be like Chris-Chris, Leb, No-No, Sawnie and, Fankie Paulsen—that’s what I called them before I got my braces.”
“Oh, Cassie, you gave me blackmail material. I am sure Noah’s SEAL teammates would love to hear his nickname is a woman’s hair removal product.”
Cassie beamed. “His call name is Rainman. The forty-day-and-night rain thing. I don’t know if that’s much better.”
“Stick with me, Cassie. I’ll make the nicknames worth it for you. It always helps to have a little blackmail material when it comes to brothers.” He stopped. “I’m sorry I interrupted your train of thought.”
Cassie wrinkled her nose. “That’s okay. We spent a lot of time in the backyard at the Paulsen house. They didn’t have to do the society ball thing. Though, Noah escorted me to a few parties. He’s six months older than me, so he played my protector boyfriend. I didn’t realize my mom and dad were worried I was attracting attention from a couple of the older boys. My mom was uptight about me seeing boys.
“It was funny. Dad was the softie and the military officer and the CEO. Don’t get me wrong—I loved my mom; I miss her desperately. She always wanted the best for us, always had a goal in mind. My dad, he was mellow, brilliant, and so talented. We used to paint together in grandma’s studio. I wish I could show you. It was a huge converted barn in the back of the house. Uncle Luke and Mark sold it.”
“Who is Mark?”
“Mark Devereaux. He is EAF’s COO. He was named co-executor in Dad’s will.”
“I didn’t realize your dad painted too.”
“He tried. I think it was his way of spending time with me. I was his princess.” Her eyes turned up to the ceiling. “Back to the Paulsens. I was the damsel in distress. They were always rescuing me from the bad guys. They still try now.” Sadness filled her eyes.
