“Of a painting. It was ridiculous. Or was it? Art was her passion. How disheartening to be second best. James ran his fingers through his hair and crossed his feet at the ankles, staring moodily at the window, sprawled in his chair. He hadn’t seen Regina in well over a week, and when he’d finally called because he’d heard nothing from her and couldn’t wait any longer, she’d been sequestered in her studio and refused to see him. His first true love affair was not going as he’d imagined it would. ...Nursing a glass of brandy, he acknowledged to himself that the rejection stung, and moreover, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t the beginning of the end. Regina did not keep her lovers. “Damn,” he muttered and took a drink, and the melancholy call of a night bird drifting through the half-open window reflected his restive frame of mind. It was cool out, the air scented with chimney smoke, but warm by the fire in his personal study. He’d declined to go out, disconcerted by his chaotic emotions when he was usually calm and content with his well-ordered life.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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