“Ah, got it. Any idea who she was seeing when she received the paintings?”
“It was way before my time,” Keely replied. “Her diaries talk about her visitors—” Joa rolled her eyes at the euphemism “—but she doesn’t name names.”
Mainly because Isabel had affairs with very prominent men and they would not be happy if their liaisons were exposed. Their wives wouldn’t be too thrilled, either.
“Damn. I might’ve been able to trace a sale through a name,” Sadie said. “Are we talking the cream of Boston society?”
“Yep,” Keely cheerfully replied. “She was universally adored, on both sides of the Atlantic. She was as popular in London and Paris as she was in Boston.”
Keely so easily spoke of people in Isabel’s milieu, high-society Boston. Keely had stepped into her grandaunt’s shoes rather well in that respect. Joa had no interest in spending time in that rarefied society.
She never felt more like a runaway, like a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, than when she was faced with people with more money than God and a pedigree they could trace back to the Mayflower. No thanks; she’d stay in the shadows where she felt most comfortable.
This wasn’t her world; these weren’t her people. Well, Keely was, obviously. Though Joa had to admit that Sadie Slade seemed rather nice and, more important, very down-to-earth.
And if Joa wasn’t wrong, and she seldom was, Sadie and Carrick Murphy had something hot and sexy happening.
Lucky girl, because the guy was super-fine.
Joa walked down the hallway to look at a collection of old photographs on the wall opposite, smiling at a photo of three teenage boys crowding a much younger girl. She knew enough about Boston society to identify the Murphy brothers and their sister Tanna.
They looked like a happy family and, while Joa was sorry their parents were dead, she thought the siblings lucky to have had the experience of being part of a supportive and close family.
Some people, her included, had never had that experience.
Joa heard masculine footsteps and turned to watch a tall man with unruly brown hair, heavy stubble and tired eyes walking down the hallway toward her. Her heart bounced around her chest as she clocked the real-life version of the man she’d briefly seen when Keely Facetimed him shortly before their meeting.
The real-life version of the face on her sister’s phone was spectacular. His open-collared chambray shirt revealed a chest that was lightly covered with hair. The shirt was tucked into a pair of olive-green khaki pants, showing off long, muscular legs. Joa lifted her eyes to examine that fallen angel face and instantly clocked his resemblance to Carrick, in the color of his eyes and in that straight nose and a stubborn chin. Carrick, in his designer suit and perfectly knotted tie, looked more corporate, more buttoned-down, than this Murphy with his funky watch and leather bangles around a strong wrist.
Hottie alert, Joa decided, idly noting that the butterflies in her stomach were beating their wings in excitement. And appreciation. When had she last had such a visceral, sexual reaction to a man? Last year? Two years ago?
Nevermight be closer to the truth.
Joa stood to one side of the hall, wondering if he’d take his eyes off his iPad long enough to notice her or if he’d just walk straight past.
Ronan Murphy, lost in his own world, walked straight past her.
Joa wasn’t crazy about attention, but even she wouldn’t mind being noticed by a hot, hot, hot man.
Joa watched that broad back and that spectacular ass walk away, very appreciative of the view. Ronan was about to turn the corner when Keely flew out of the conference room and hollered for him to stop. Ronan spun around, grinned at Keely and hurried back down the passageway to where she stood, hands on her hips.
“Morning, Keels.” His voice was as deep as Carrick’s, but Ronan’s was touched by gravel and had a sexy rasp that sent chills racing over Joa’s skin. “How goes the authentication process?”
Keely pouted. “Slowly.” Without turning around, Keely reached back, grabbed the sleeve of Joa’s coat and tugged her forward. “I’ve been dying for you two to meet. Ro, this is Joa.”
Joa expected him to hand her a perfunctory greeting before turning his attention back to Keely, but his eyes collided with hers. Yes, his eyes were green but that was lazy thinking. They were green touched with gold, copper and shocking blue. They held all the colors of a fantastic abalone shell.
She could spend hours, days, months, looking into those eyes, reading their secrets. Because, boy, this man sure did have a lot.
As did she.
Ronan smiled, his sexy mouth lifting at the corners, but that practiced smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Hello, Joa. Keely mentioned you were on your way home. Are you happy to be back in Boston?”
“I am, thank you.”
Joa tipped her head to the side as she held his gaze. Cute, smart and very practiced at pulling out this urbane, charming side. She wondered what he was like beneath all that slick.
Keely interrupted her musings and their eye lock. “I’m so glad I caught you, Ronan. Have you found a nanny for your boys yet?”