CHAPTER SEVEN

      CONSTANZO MET THEM at the door of his lavish home. “So?”

      “So, we met your son.”

      After their conversation in the car, Vivi was abundantly glad Tucker was a workaholic who thought of nothing but his business. Any day of the week, she’d rather think about work than her past. He didn’t care that he’d ripped open old wounds. He didn’t care that her nerves were shattered, her brain was numb. He’d pushed for answers and he’d gotten them. Then he’d moved on, leaving her to deal with the repercussions.

      Yet another reason to ignore the attraction that hummed between them.

      Constanzo motioned for them to follow him back down the hall. “You met my son and—?”

      “And he’s a gifted artist. Your friend Vivi made up a story about you wanting to do a showing for a promising artist and he was one of the people we were checking out. He ate it up like candy on a spoon.”

      As they reached a living room with soft white sofas, modern-print area rugs, a stunning stone fireplace and a wall of windows that displayed the pool, Constanzo faced her. “Is this so?”

      She winced. As if it wasn’t bad enough she’d just told the guy she had feelings for about the most horrific thing ever to happen to her, and he hadn’t shown her one ounce of compassion, now he’d fed her to the lions.

      “I just felt he would need time to get to know you before we dropped the bomb that you’re his dad. We can bring him here every day to look at your house and figure out how he’d like to show his paintings here—”

      Constanzo shook his head. “No. No. If we do this, we do it right. We rent a gallery with a curator who will do a real showing.” He glanced at Tucker. “His work is good enough for this?”

      “His work is amazing.”

      When a gleam of happiness came to Constanzo’s eyes, Vivi’s heart stopped. She forgot all about her discussion with Tucker in the car. She forgot her worries that she’d handled everything badly. She just saw that gleam.

      “You, Vivi, are every bit as bright as I believed you were.”

      Tucker snorted a laugh as Constanzo walked to the bar. “You disagree with her plan?”

      He shrugged. “I’m cautiously optimistic because I want this to work. But I would have just told him.”

      Constanzo reached for a bottle of Scotch. “I like Vivi’s way better.” He pulled out three glasses and poured. “So when do I meet him?”

      Filled with euphoria that felt a lot like walking on air, she happily said, “Whenever you want.”

      Handing a glass to Vivi and then Tucker, he said, “I think I would like tomorrow.”

      Tucker said, “Whoa, Constanzo. We have a lot of work to do first.”

      “Such as?”

      “Getting the gallery for one,” Vivi reminded him.

      “I have friends and money. I’ll have a place for you tomorrow.”

      Vivi smiled. “Then as soon as the curator is ready for a trip to Antonio’s that’s when we’ll go. But, remember, you can’t tell him you’re his dad.”

      “Not even if things are going well?”

      “He needs to get to know you.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “And, honestly, Mr. B., I think you need to get to know him, too. You’re a wealthy man and he’s very poor. What if he’s a hustler?”

      Constanzo’s lips turned down. “You think my own son would cheat me.” He waved his hands. “Of course, he might. We don’t really know who he is.”

      “Exactly. That’s why I figured it was best to keep who you are a secret until you know each other better.”

      Constanzo pulled out his cell phone. “We will start tomorrow.”

      Twenty minutes later Constanzo had a gallery booked and the owner coming to his house the following morning. They toasted with Scotch, which Vivi hated, had lunch, then played pool until it was time to dress for dinner.

      Vivi had never seen anyone as happy or animated as Constanzo was that day. But after an afternoon of sipping Scotch, he drank a little too much wine at dinner and left the table early.

      Alone with Tucker in the silent dining room, their discussion in the car came tumbling back to her. But a funny thing happened. Before those thoughts could take root—thoughts of Cord and the shame and humiliation of being attacked then sued and bullied when she’d done nothing wrong—she remembered the happiness in Constanzo’s eyes. And she felt strong again. Yes, she was disappointed in Tucker pushing her then behaving as if her pain was inconsequential, but that just pointed out what she’d always realized. They weren’t good for each other.

      As if confirming that, she and Tucker ate their dessert in near silence. She was abundantly glad when her last bite of cobbler was finished and she could excuse herself. She headed toward the stairs and her bedroom, but she wasn’t tired.

      She didn’t really know what she was. Part of her was excited about Antonio and her plan. The other part was really disappointed in Tucker. But her mind no longer automatically jumped to Cord. What he would think. How he would feel about her success. It was like all of that no longer mattered. And that confused her even more.

      Maybe she just needed some fresh air?

      She turned from the stairs and walked toward the big formal living room with access to the pool. A few lights broke up the darkness and created sporadic twinkles on the blue water, but the area itself wasn’t lit. Using her memory of the patio, she found her way to the nearest chaise, sat and stretched out.

      “Nice night to just sit outside and look at the stars.”

      She almost jumped out of her skin. “Tucker! For the love of God! You couldn’t have given me a warning you were already out here?”

      “That was the purpose of my comment.”

      She could barely make out his long legs on the chaise, though his shiny black shoes picked up a bit of the light from the well-spaced fixtures around the patio. His white shirt was a lot easier to see. When her gaze reached his face, he smiled.