A Lasting Impression

no business doing.
    “I’ll be the first to admit,” he said. “I’m not an expert in the world of art. But take my word for it, Claire . . . your talent is anything but ordinary.”
    She let out her breath as a trickle of relief wound its way through her. And she suddenly grew very aware of the darkness around them, of how alone they were, and of just how attracted she was to this man. To his humor, his integrity, his warmth, his . . . David -like qualities.
    “I’m going to ask you a question, Claire, and I want an honest answer.”
    Realizing he was waiting on her to respond, she nodded, feeling the other shoe about to fall after all.
    “Did you, or did you not, seek the position with Mrs. Acklen with the purpose of using her social connections and reputation to further your own chances in the art world?”
    “I did not,” she answered with full honesty. “I didn’t know who Mrs. Acklen was before I arrived at Belmont. I told her that in the interview. I’d never even heard of her before I”—she hated to remind him—“eavesdropped on those women in church. I give you my word, Sutton. And furthermore, I would never do anything that would bring reproach on her good name. Or yours.”
    His focus unrelenting, he studied her, and for once, she didn’t flinch beneath his close attention.
    Finally, a ghost of a smile appeared. “I appreciate that, Claire. Thank you. Now I’d better get you back. You have a big day tomorrow.”
    He took hold of her arm again as they maneuvered their way back to the lobby. Claire felt a closeness to him she hadn’t before, and she sensed he felt it too, but couldn’t be sure. She’d won his trust, though, and was determined to keep it.
    He reached to open the door for her and paused. “I’m going to take a wild stab here, but I’m guessing that since you didn’t know who Mrs. Acklen was before you came here, you also aren’t aware of the art auction she helps sponsor every spring. Part of which features new artists and their work.”
    “New artists?” Claire asked, doing her best to sound casual, and knowing by his devilish smile that she’d failed.
    “Well . . .” He opened the door for her. “I guess that answers that.”

    “Let’s review the rules to make sure everyone understands the goal of the game. . . .”
    Pistol in hand, Sutton listened to Claire address the crowd. Lovely in her gray dress, she stood on the top step in front of the mansion, her honey-autumn curls swept up and shining in the sun. An almost palpable excitement infused the warm September afternoon and a perfect breeze accompanied a cloudless blue.
    Boys and girls pressed close on the lower stairs, already grouped in their opposing teams. They whispered to each other, smiles wide. Parents gathered in a group behind them wearing looks of youthful anticipation. Even Adelicia, dressed in a deep plum dress Sutton couldn’t remember seeing before, appeared as though she wished she, too, could take part in the hunt.
    “Remember, you must stay on course and go only where clues tell you to go.” Claire seemed as excited as the children. “Just because the girls’ team finds a clue in one spot doesn’t mean the boys will also find one there. And some of the clues may be more difficult to decipher than others. That’s especially true”—she glanced in Sutton’s direction, tilting her head knowingly—“of the clues that rhyme.”
    He smiled, enjoying the private joke, and the opportunity just to look at her. He’d considered her pretty the first time they’d met, even with her hair mussed and her dress wrinkled. And her beauty had only deepened the more he’d gotten to know her. He’d enjoyed writing and hiding the clues with her last night. How long had it been since he’d laughed like that? He couldn’t remember.
    Then there’d been those moments in the art gallery. . . .
    That fraction of a heartbeat when he’d partially lost his mind and had actually contemplated taking the woman in his arms and kissing her ! He’d imagined cradling her cheek and tasting the wine from those full pink lips. He’d quickly come to his senses, of course, and knew he needed to get a rein on himself. And still did, apparently.
    He took a deep breath and exhaled.
    He and Claire were colleagues. Friendly colleagues who shared a good working relationship. And playful banter. And who could talk at length about many different subjects. But that was all. Claire had never given him any