Losing Angeline: London Calling Book Two by Kat Faitour

Author:Kat Faitour [Faitour, Kat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romantic Suspense
Publisher: Kat Faitour
Published: 2016-01-15T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

ANGELINE LOOKED UP from typing at her desktop computer when she heard the soft knock on her office door. It was early morning in the gallery, a time when she liked to concentrate on catching up with mail, paperwork, and any account issues. Since they were a small enterprise, her responsibilities stretched from acquisitions and new talent discovery to accounts payable and sales billing. The span and breadth of her work engaged her. The changing art in the timeless Regency architecture of the building seduced her.

Despite her experiences in high school with Edward Pierce, she’d been unable to wipe the appreciation and allure of art from her life. Despite his perversion and exploitation, her love for the creative endured. She considered it a testimony to her survival.

She’d thrived.

Straightening in her chair, she welcomed her assistant. “Come in.”

The young man was an intern they’d been lucky to recruit from a local university. Tall and lanky, he wore his mouse-brown hair closely cropped and sported the slightest patchy stubble on some days.

Days like today.

He stuck his head around the door, faintly flushed and looking anywhere but at Angeline. She knew about his crush on her, but handled him with delicacy and kindness. Personally, she found him adorable, like an ungainly puppy not yet grown into his feet.

“Um, Mrs. Sinclair?”

“Brian, please,” she begged for the hundredth time, “call me Angeline. What can I do for you this morning?”

He turned redder yet and seemed to lose his purpose. He cast his eyes around the room, but she knew he wasn’t seeing the decorative art glass displayed on her shelves nor the oil on canvas landscape hanging across from him in its gilded frame.

Finally, his eyes meandered back to hers. “You have a visitor. A man is here to see you.”

Angeline leaned in, folding her hands on the Sheraton ladies writing desk she’d chosen during her first year working at the gallery. Smiling with encouragement, she said, “Did you get a name?”

“Oh, uh, no.” He jerked back as if to turn tail.

She bit back a smile, knowing he would be hurt if he thought she was laughing at him. Rising from behind her desk, she joined him at the door before he could escape. “It’s okay. I’ll come out and meet with him.”

He fumbled with the door, opening it after two attempts. It was old, like the rest of the building, and only obeyed when the knob was turned counterclockwise with firm intention.

Angeline, still containing a laugh, walked behind the young intern. It took a few steps before she was able to see her visitor. Some sound, a gasp maybe, escaped before she could control it. Her insides froze to ice.

“Hello, Angela.”

Gathering herself, she turned to her assistant. He seemed puzzled, possibly by the other man’s recognition of her or his mistaken use of her name. Angeline patted Brian on the arm.

“I’m acquainted with this…gentleman. Why don’t you step out and bring us some coffees from that little place down the street? We’ll have two lattes.

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