“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.