Flash

watched Jasper's broad back disappear into the sea of well-dressed guests. "Sloan is very protective of you, isn't he?"
    "We're both still getting over what happened with Dixon Haggard in that storage facility."
    Sean looked thoughtful. "I think it goes a little deeper than that."
    "Jasper and I do have business interests in common," she allowed. "That sort of thing does tend to create a certain bond."
    Sean's fine mouth curved briefly. "I saw the look in his eyes. Trust me, whatever he's feeling toward you goes way beyond a mutual interest in Glow."
    "What was it you wanted to say to me, Sean?"
    He seemed to brace himself. "I think you should know that I'm aware of everything that happened three years ago."
    What was this all about? Olivia wondered. The urge to automatically search the crowd for Nina's face in order to get a clue was almost overwhelming. She resisted with an effort.
    "I see," she said, careful to sound noncommittal.
    "Nina told me about her affair with Logan."
    Olivia went very still. The laughter and conversation around her seemed to recede into the distance.
    "I see," she said again, unable to think of anything more intelligent.
    "She also told me that you knew about it at the time. She said it was typical of you to protect her by staying silent."
    "Sean, there is nothing to be gained from going over this ground."
    "You could have thrown her to the wolves three years ago. You could have told Crawford Lee Wilder that Logan's Dark Muse was his young, innocent model. Wilder could have stuck Nina into his damned Dane legend instead of you."
    "You don't know Crawford. He would have used whatever he thought worked best in his story."
    "She was very young. Very naïve. She never stood a chance against Logan. But she was terrified of what I would think of her if I knew the truth."
    "Sean, I really do not want to discuss this."
    "Neither do I," Sean said. "But it's time we did talk about it. There isn't much more to say, really. I just wanted you to know that I know."
    "When did Nina tell you?"
    "Three days ago when I asked her to marry me. She suddenly burst into tears and told me everything. She said she couldn't marry me unless I knew that she was Logan's Dark Muse. She was terrified that I would blame her for driving him to his death."
    Olivia watched him closely. "But you don't blame her, do you?"
    "Hell, no. I don't blame anyone anymore. Logan was his own worst enemy, and in the end he killed himself." Sean hesitated. "We haven't told my parents, though."
    Olivia stiffened. "I understand."
    "I'm not sure my mother could ever accept Nina into the family if she was forced to substitute her for you in the legend of Logan Dane."
    Olivia smiled wanly. "There's no need to tell anyone else. With any luck, the legend will fade with time. Only Logan's art will remain. That's as it should be."
    Relief and gratitude lit Sean's eyes. "Thanks, Olivia. And thank you for coming here this evening."
    "My pleasure," she lied softly.
    With a nod, Sean drifted away into the crowd. She watched him until he was no longer in sight. So much for breaking the bonds between the Chantrys and the Danes, she thought. Nina and Sean would no doubt have children. The two families were going to be linked forever.
    From out of nowhere, another one of Rollie's pithy remarks came back to her.
Trying to sever a family tie is sort of like trying to pretend that there is no such thing as gravity. You can get away with it for a while, but sooner or later you realize you're stuck
.
    Olivia looked at the huge painting hanging on the wall in front of her. Everything Logan had ever done had been larger than life, most especially his art, she thought. He would have taken enormous satisfaction out of knowing that he had become a legend. She contemplated the roiling darkness that boiled and churned on the canvas.
    "If it hadn't been for you, no one here would even know his name," drawled a familiar voice.
    She stifled a groan. She really did owe Andy Andrews for giving her advance warning that Crawford would be here tonight, she thought.
    "Hello, Crawford."
    She studied his trademark black turtleneck, expensive black Italian-cut jacket, and black jeans. It was the look that had inflamed the dreams of countless would-be freelance writers, she reflected. His shoulder-length hair, tied in a ponytail with a silver thong, looked a little too black She realized that he had resorted to coloring it.
    "Very L.A." she said. "I thought there was a dress code