Change of Heart (The Flanagan Sisters, #2) Page 2

“We thought you might be that person,” Isobella finished the spiel, as if she was offering Carly the biggest prize in the world.

  Carly debated how she was going to respond. “What would be the terms of the agreement?”

  Desmond and Isobella exchanged a glance.

  “Terms?” Desmond asked.

  She nodded. “I imagine you’ve written a business plan and have calculated how many years you will need a patron before you can sustain yourself? Send it to my office and I’ll review it.”

  The eyes of both artists grew wide and Desmond’s mouth moved, but nothing came out. Carly grinned on the inside.

  Someone tapped her on the shoulder. As she turned, the smile crept onto her face and she suddenly found herself face to face with Evan. He winked at her and her smile widened. “Zita asked me to tell you it’s time for your speech.”

  Carly was grateful for the excuse to get away from them. “Of course.” She turned back to the still stunned couple. “Excuse me, I must go.”

  Evan fell in step with her as she walked toward Stewart. “I imagine those two were hassling you to be a patron for LACH.”

  “They made a request. Are you a member?” Was he letting them do the dirty work so he would appear to be the good guy? She acknowledged the naïve hope that he might be interested in her, before pushing it away. She knew better.

  “I joined when I first moved to the area. Some of them are a little too pretentious for me, but meetings can be fun.”

  Carly understood, but it wasn’t particularly professional for him to admit it.

  They reached Stewart. “Carolina, we’re ready to start. Why don’t you come with me?”

  She nodded to Evan and then followed Stewart to the small stage set up at the back of the gallery. He ran through the short program with her, and then stood on the stage to get everyone’s attention.

  Carly stepped to the side, forcing a polite, interested expression onto her face while inside, her stomach was churning. Getting up in front of all of these people was her idea of torture. She hated being the center of attention, and always felt she was being judged. She was too small, too rich, her accent was slightly wrong. It didn’t matter that she’d lived in Houston for twenty-two years, she’d never lost the hint of her Salvadoran accent.

  Regulating her breathing, she ran through her speech in her head.

  “None of this would be possible without our generous sponsor, Carolina Flanagan.”

  Carly smiled and walked up the steps of the stage, nodding at Stewart before facing the crowd. She placed her hands either side of the lectern to stop them from shaking. “Thank you, Stewart,” she said. “Many of you have heard the story of how I started my company with a laptop and an idea, which grew into the billion dollar corporation that it is today.” She smiled at an older, blonde woman who nodded her head. “What you possibly don’t know is that a lot of my success is due to luck.”

  There was a murmur through the crowd.

  “I was sixteen when I wrote my first software program, but I didn’t know if anyone would be interested in it, or how to sell it.” She’d been happy coding, and so clueless about the industry. “Then I discovered that a huge software convention was going to be in Houston. My tutor bought me a ticket, because I couldn’t afford it, and he went along with me.” She’d been so desperately shy. There was no way she would have had the courage to talk with anyone there. “At the lunch break, he chatted to a guy who distributed software and he loved the sound of mine. After the event, I sent him the details and, before I knew it, the software had taken off.”

  Her eyes roamed the room and found Evan. She jolted at the intensity of his gaze and continued. “That’s why I try to pay that luck forward. This exhibition displays some of Houston’s local artists, who haven’t had a chance like this before. There’s always a possibility that an art critic or another gallery owner will see their work and it will be their big break. And so I would like to wish the artists the best of luck and thank you all for coming.”

  At the polite applause, Carly descended the stairs, as she worked to control her breathing. It was over.

  “Nice speech, Sis,” Zita said, giving her a hug.

  “Thanks.” Not even her family realized how much she hated public speaking. She’d been doing it since the beginning of her career, but it never got any easier. “Do you think anyone would notice if I slipped out now? I’m getting a bit of a headache.” Or she would soon if she didn’t get out of there.

  “Of course, Carly. I’ll give everyone your apologies,” Zita said. “Go home, take some painkillers and hop into bed. Do you want me to call you a cab?”

  Carly shook her head. “I’ll be fine.” The gallery wasn’t far from where she lived and the walk would help clear her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.” She skirted the crowd, keeping her eyes on the entrance and walking at a pace that showed she had a purpose. People were much less likely to intercept her if it looked like she had somewhere she had to be.

  She was almost at the door when someone said, “Going so soon?”

  She recognized Evan’s voice before she turned to him. She suppressed a sigh. “Yes. Was there something you wanted?”

  “I wanted to spend a little more time with you.” His smile made her body tingle.

  “Why?” The question was out before she could stop herself.

  “You’re a beautiful woman with great taste in art.”

  Even knowing his words weren’t true, a rush of pleasure went through her. Beautiful she was not. Well-groomed, yes – she’d spent a fortune on a stylist, and the makeup and clothes to match her business persona, but it was all smoke and mirrors. “I’m not going to buy more of your work because you compliment me.” Carly moved toward the door again.

  He followed her out. “That wasn’t my intention.” He placed a hand on her arm to stop her and when she turned, she saw annoyance in his eyes. “Have I offended you?”

  He hadn’t, but it was an excuse she could use. “You criticized your fellow artists and then showed me your work without admitting it was your own.”

  “I tease Isobella about her art all the time.” He shrugged. “And I wanted your honest reaction to my paintings.”

  The confession made her pause. “It’s hardly professional.”

  “You’re right. My apologies. I should have been up front.”

  She nodded curtly to him and continued down the street.

  “I meant what I said about wanting to get to know you.”

  More like her money. She wasn’t going to be suckered into anything. “I need to get home,” she said without looking back.

  Carly strode down the sidewalk, tense, ignoring the twinge of disappointment when she realized he wasn’t following. She was being ridiculous. Sure, he was handsome, but he only wanted her money. Andrew had taught her that.

  “Wait!”

  Her heart jumped. Should she wait for him, or keep going?

  His footsteps on the pavement solved that decision as he jogged up next to her. “Are you walking?”

  Surprised, she said, “Yes. I only live a couple of blocks away.”

  “At this time of night? I’m sorry, I can’t in good conscience let you go alone. Can I walk with you?”

  “Shouldn’t you be schmoozing with the people at your exhibition?” She couldn’t prevent the annoyance from slipping into her tone. She hadn’t allowed anyone to stop her from doing what she wanted. She wouldn’t have got where she was if she had.

  “They’ll be there when I get back. Can I walk you home?” It was a simple request, asked without any guile.

  She wanted to say no, but she suspected he’d follow her anyway. She sighed. “If you want. But I’m not in any mood for conversation.” There was something about him that made her forget her social graces.

  His lips quirked in a smile. “Warning noted.”

  For the first block they were silent. Her footsteps ate up the pavement, eager to be away from him.

  “I’m a
mazed how fast you can walk in those heels,” he said as they crossed a road.

  “Practice.” Carly lived in her heels. Her height was a constant disadvantage, made people treat her like a child, and she’d quickly discovered that the four extra inches went a long way to gaining more respect. Plus, her stylist had forbidden her to ever wear flats for business.

  Her apartment block was just up ahead. “This is me,” she said as they reached the entrance. “Do you want me to call you a cab?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  She stood there for a second, not sure what else to say. “Thank you for walking me.”

  “Thank you for the company.”

  She frowned at him, not sure if he was making fun of her.

  “Do you prefer Carolina or Carly?” he asked.

  She blinked. She was Carolina for all of her business associates and work colleagues. Only close friends and family called her Carly.

  “Carly,” she found herself saying.

  He nodded and smiled. “Goodnight then, Carly. Sweet dreams.” He turned and walked back the way they had come.

  Carly watched him for a minute. He hadn’t tried to kiss her, and hadn’t asked for her number. So much for wanting to get to know her. She’d been right to be cautious. Shaking her head, she stepped into her apartment building.

  He was a strange man.

  Chapter 2

  Evan wandered back to the exhibition, the enigma that was Carly Flanagan firmly on his mind. She’d had such a visceral reaction to both of his paintings. She understood they were more than images on a canvas. But she didn’t want anyone to know, anyone to see the real her. She’d fled when she’d realized she’d said too much.

  Then there was her professional self. He’d seen Isobella and Desmond corner her, had admired how she had remained polite and patient – those two drove him crazy – and had arrived in time to hear Carly talking about business plans. He’d wanted to high-five her for so politely putting them in their place. There was going to be a lot of talk about it at the next LACH meeting. Evan grinned just thinking about it.

  But she’d really blown his mind when she’d stepped on the stage for her turn to speak. She’d hated every minute of it, but he’d guarantee no one noticed. He’d almost missed it himself, would have if he hadn’t been paying close attention to her. There was the tiniest tremor when her hands wrapped around the lectern and there was her measured breathing. Everything else was perfect, but the breathing was too perfect. How did the CEO of a billion dollar company fool everyone that way?

  What it came down to was, he needed to know more.

  He walked back into the gallery and Zita pounced.

  “Where have you been?”

  “I walked your sister home.”

  “She walked?” Zita’s eyes narrowed. “I thought she was catching a cab.”

  “So did I until she strode off down the street. I wanted to make sure she got home safely.”

  “Thanks.” Zita hugged him. “She doesn’t always accept help.”

  “I didn’t say she liked it,” Evan said and Zita laughed.

  “I’m surprised you could tell. Carly is nothing if not exceedingly polite all of the time.”

  He smiled. He’d obviously gotten under her skin a little, because she’d been annoyed at his offer. He took Zita by the arm and led her away from the door. “She must be busy. Do you see much of her?”

  “Yeah, at least every second week for lunch. Both of my sisters come home. It’s pretty much law in our house. You do not want Mama asking why you weren’t there.” Zita grinned.

  “When’s your next get-together?” He hated using Zita’s open nature to get information, but he was unlikely to run into Carly at any other time.

  “Tomorrow.” She squinted at him. “Why all the questions?”

  He ran a hand through his hair and shuffled his feet. “Promise you won’t laugh, Z?”

  “No.”

  He laughed. “She caught my eye, is all. I want to get to know her, but I don’t imagine I’ll run into her again.”

  She assessed him. “What about her caught your eye?”

  “Aside from her incredible beauty? She felt something when she looked at my paintings. Not many people really get it.” None of his family did. Feeling a little awkward, he added, “I don’t think she shows that side of herself to many people.”

  She nodded. “You should come for lunch.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Tomorrow. Lunch. My house, twelve o’clock. Perhaps Carly will catch more than your eye.” Zita walked away.

  Evan let out a breath. He hadn’t quite been expecting that, but the idea thrilled him. It was a chance to see Carly again, and perhaps find out who she was at home. Though he wasn’t sure how happy Carly would be.

  “Evan!” Stewart called. “Another two of your paintings have sold. Let me introduce you to who bought them.” He gestured toward a couple who screamed old money.

  Evan went to schmooze.

  ***

  Carly groaned as her alarm sang her awake. Her dreams had been so vivid, she felt as if she hadn’t slept. And the worst thing was the leading man in her dreams had been Evan. She hadn’t had a sexy dream like that in quite a while. She sighed and climbed out of bed, padding to the bathroom, and firmly pushing the remainder of her dreams from her mind. She wasn’t likely to see him again. He might be Zita and her mother’s neighbor, but the properties were so far apart she wouldn’t even catch a glimpse of him.

  She was fine with that.

  He was too unsettling.

  After making herself a coffee to go, she drove to Bridget’s place. Bridget and her partner Jack came out of the house as she pulled in.

  As Jack opened the rear car door, he asked, “Qué pasa?”

  Carly grinned. He’d been practicing his Spanish since he and Bridget had become an official couple. “Nada.”

  “How was the exhibition opening last night?” Bridget asked as she slid into the passenger seat.

  “There was quite a range of styles,” she said, checking to see if the road was clear before reversing out.

  “I can imagine. Zita was excited about her neighbor’s work . . . I can’t remember his name.”

  “Evan Hayes,” Carly answered without thinking. “I bought one of his paintings.”

  “Wow, it must have been good. Wait until word gets around that Carolina Flanagan has discovered a new artist.”

  Carly frowned. She hadn’t thought about that, she’d just had to have that canvas. Though she doubted it would have much effect on his sales – she was a software developer, not a celebrity. No one cared what she bought. She changed the subject. “How’s the new job?”

  Bridget sighed happily. “It’s fantastic. Everyone is so supportive and I’ve already got two projects on the go.”

  Her sister was a safety projects coordinator and had just started in her dream job. It was fantastic to hear her talking about work with enthusiasm, rather than the frustration she’d had at her previous job. Carly glanced in the rear view mirror at Jack. “How about at Dionysus?”

  Jack remained at the oil refinery where Bridget used to work. There had been a huge incident only last month and the investigation was taking a lot of Jack’s time.

  “The accident really shook up a few people, and safety is now getting a much bigger voice. It’s not a constant battle anymore.”

  They chatted until they arrived at the property where Zita and their mother lived. The main house was a big two-story place surrounded by lush gardens. Carly had helped her mother design it to make sure it was big enough for the refugee foster children she cared for. There were also smaller cottages where some of the older foster children lived, now that they were adults.

  Carly sighed as Zita’s two dogs raced out to greet them. She slowed the car to a crawl, afraid she might hit them, even though they kept their distance.

  Getting out of the car, she then walked up the steps to the house. Loud voices could be he
ard inside, and as she pushed open the door, she saw Elena and Teresa in the living room arguing, and Alejandra was soothing her crying baby.

  It was never quiet at Casa Flanagan. Carly loved it.

  “Mama, we’re here,” Bridget called.

  Carly went straight over to Alejandra, who appeared a little stressed. “Can I hold him?” The baby was only a couple of months old, and the fifteen year old was still getting to grips with having a child to take care of.

  “Of course.” Alejandra passed baby Julio over. Carly cooed over the little boy as she carried him into the kitchen where there were raised voices.

  “Why did you invite him?” her mother asked Zita.

  “Invite who?” Carly said, carefully maneuvering the baby so she could kiss her mother’s cheek.

  Zita sighed. “I invited Evan for lunch.”

  Carly stopped her gentle swaying with Julio. “The artist?”

  Her sister rolled her eyes. “No, the fighter pilot.”

  Her muscles tensed. “Why did you invite him?” She didn’t need to see him again. She didn’t want to see him again. He was unsettling.

  Zita pursed her lips and then her eyes twinkled, which meant she was up to no good. “Mama, I think Evan likes Carly. They met last night. He’s a nice guy and this is the perfect opportunity for him to get to know her.”

  Mierda. Her sister was setting her up.

  Carmen turned to her youngest daughter with speculation in her eyes. “Is that so?”

  Zita nodded.

  Carly wanted to scream.

  “In that case, he must come.” Carmen grinned.

  “Poor guy doesn’t know what he’s getting himself in for,” Jack murmured to Bridget.

  The doorbell halted further conversation.

  “That must be him,” Zita said, wiping her hands on a dish towel and hurrying to the front door.

  “I think Julio needs changing,” Carly said quickly and headed for the stairs. The longer she could avoid Evan the better.

  She wasn’t sure what it was about him that unsettled her. He was an attractive man, sure, but she’d dealt with good-looking men before. Many of them either wanted to tell her how to run her company, or wanted a job, or her money. She got the feeling Evan wasn’t interested in any of that. Which made her nervous. She couldn’t trust her taste in men.