Manhattan Merger

LORRAINE Bennett, known to most people as Rainey, had just set everything up to paint when her phone rang. It was only eight-twenty a.m.

Since she paid extra on her phone bill to avoid taking telemarketing calls, she figured it was Barbara Landers, one of the secretaries who worked for Mr. Goldberg, Rainey’s boss at Global Greeting Cards.

Barb was the same age as Rainey, and single. They’d hit it off the first day they were introduced. Since then they’d often eaten lunch or dinner together.

Through Barbara, who was a native New Yorker, Rainey had met a lot of her friends at weekend parties. A couple of guys had already asked her to other parties and films.

Ken Granger, another guy who lived in her building and was clerking for a law firm, had taken her to dinner several times. Rainey’s mother didn’t need to worry that her daughter lacked for a social life.

Stepping away from the easel, she walked over to her desk and picked up the receiver.

“Rainey Bennett Fine Art Studio.”

“Rainey? It’s Don Felt again.”

“Oh— Hi, Don!”

He was the head of the art department at Red Rose Romance Publishers. Only yesterday he’d phoned her about a new project, and had already faxed her the artwork sheets she needed to get started.

Between commissions from Global Greeting Cards and Red Rose, she had more work than she could handle at the moment. But of course she would never say no to a new project. This was her life and her livelihood!

“Sorry to bother you this early.”

“This isn’t early for me. I’ve already had my morning run in the park. What can I do for you?”

“Could you give me the name and phone number of the agency in Colorado you used for the male model on that sensational cover of Manhattan Merger?”

Her gaze clicked to the wall where she’d hung her oil paintings. Rainey was flattered that five out of the eight she’d done with him as the hero had already been sold to the authors who’d written the books featuring him on their covers. The ninth was in the beginning stages.

She had to admit those paintings were sensational even if she said so herself. However it was the man on the covers who made them so riveting. Rainey had only been the vessel to put him there.

“I didn’t find him through a modeling agency, Don.”

The artist in Rainey had been drawn to the face and body of a stranger whose rugged male beauty made her want to put him on every cover she did for Red Rose Romance.

It seemed the sales on those books had been phenomenal. The company had sent her red roses several times congratulating her for her excellent work.

Even better, the company had increased her salary to the point that she’d finally been able to move to New York and live on what she made doing artwork for them and the greeting card company.

“So—this masculine heartthrob who is setting hundreds of thousands of female hearts aflutter around the world is a figment of your imagination?”

“No.” She sucked in her breath. “I’m afraid even my psyche couldn’t dream up anyone that gorgeous.”

“Then he must be a boyfriend you’ve been keeping secret from me.”

She chuckled. “Don’t I wish. To be honest, I have no idea who the man is.”

After a slight pause, “Then how did you get permission to paint him?”

“I didn’t. About two years ago I saw him in a photograph. His looks were so incredible, I found myself sketching him every time I went near my drawing board.”

“Whose photograph?” he asked without preamble.

“My brother’s.”

“Do you still have it?”

“It was never mine to take. The only reason I happened to see it was because I was helping my mom clean his bedroom before he came home to go back to college.

“You know me and how I work. I often get ideas from people I see on the street or in a photo or some such thing. Later on if a face haunts me enough, I end up sketching it from memory.

“That’s what happened in this case. A third of the covers I’ve painted for Red Rose have been done without models.”

“I know, and there’s never been any kind of problem. Maybe there isn’t now.”

She gripped the receiver a little tighter. “What’s wrong, Don?”

“Possibly nothing. The legal department sent me a memo asking for the information.”

She blinked. “Legal department… Do you know what this is about?”

“Not yet. But since you admit you saw this face in a photograph, humor me and talk to your brother.”

“Don—you don’t understand. The man in that picture was simply one of a group of vacationers. Craig is a whitewater river guide. Every summer he takes dozens of groups on float trips down the Colorado, and always gets a picture of them at the place where they put in.

“This is his sixth year. He must have close to a hundred group photos lying in a box in his bedroom closet. I have no idea how old that picture even was.”

“Are they dated?”

“Probably. I wasn’t paying any attention at the time. He plans to open up his own sporting goods store one day soon and use them for wall decor along with trophy fish and elk he’s had mounted. He might remember something unique about a particular trip, but I doubt very much he could recall a name.”

“Will you ask him anyway? Then get back to me with the information A.S.A.P.?”

“It’s the end of June, Don. He’s been running rivers for the last three weeks. All I can do is leave a message at Horsehead Whitewater Expeditions. That’s the company Craig works for.

“They’ll get word to my brother to call me, but it might take anywhere from a few days to a week before I hear from him.”

There was another silence that increased her nervousness.

“Tell you what,” Don murmured at last. “I’m going to contact the legal department and find out why they’re asking questions. Then I’ll get back to you. Will you be there for a while?”

“Yes. I’m finishing up the painting for the cover of The Bride’s Not-So-White Secret, and will send it over to your office by courier the day after tomorrow.”

“Excellent. I’ll look forward to seeing it. Expect to hear from me soon.”

After they’d clicked off, she returned to the painting in question propped on her easel. Unfortunately the reason for Don’s phone call had taken the zip out of her morning.

Instead of reaching for the brush to fill in the last bit of lace on the bridal gown, she walked over to the painting she’d done for Manhattan Merger.