The Art of Desire by Cherie Feather

Author:Cherie Feather
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2010-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mandy sat at one of the brightly colored patio tables in front of the museum, where a food vendor sold snacks and sodas. She sipped an Orange Crush and waited for Kiki to join her so they could discuss Kiki’s research.

Alone with her briefcase at her feet, Mandy reflected on her surroundings. The Santa Fe Women’s Art Museum was located within walking distance of the Plaza, a downtown area that served tourists with hundreds of gift shops and a host of restaurants and galleries.

In spite of its commercialism, Mandy loved the Plaza. Santa Fe meant “Holy Faith” in Spanish, and for her that epitomized the depth and beauty of this city. After her divorce, she’d come here to start a new life, to find faith in herself. In that regard, she and Jared were the same. He’d come here to start over, too.

She hadn’t seen him since the morning after the masquerade. But it had only been a week. Besides, he’d invited her to have dinner at his house tomorrow. He’d offered to grill one of his mean steaks for her. Nothing could have pleased her more. Not that she wasn’t anxious for him to fulfill her other fantasy, but she figured he was building the sexual tension, keeping her busy until he slipped into her room one unsuspecting night and made it happen.

Mandy glanced up and saw Kiki headed toward her. The historian’s wavy red hair shimmered in the sun, and her gauzy dress billowed. She was a Santa Fe transplant, too.

“Sorry I’m late.” Kiki sat beside her. As always, she’d accessorized with Southwestern jewelry. Today she wore a collection of coral, turquoise, and spiny oyster. “I got caught up at a last-minute meeting.”

“That’s okay. I was little late myself.” Their workdays rarely ended on time, but they both loved what they did. They never complained. As for Kiki’s research, Mandy made a pleading face. “Please, tell me you found the journal.”

Kiki laughed. “Don’t we wish it could be that easy? Still, I thought you might be interested in what I compiled on Catherine’s nanny. Other historians have created files on her, but I’m hoping to make mine more complete. It might help us find the journal.”

Mandy sat a little more upright. It was common knowledge that Catherine’s nanny had moved to America with her, and that the other woman had probably been with her when she’d hidden Atacar’s portrait and abandoned the farmhouse. But whatever had become of them after that was anybody’s guess.

“In England she was known as Nanny Perkins,” Kiki said. “But Catherine just called her Nanny.”

“What was her full name?”

“Hattie Grace Perkins. Most nannies were from the lower classes, and she was no exception. She was a country girl who’d gone to London to seek employment. Staying on the family farm wasn’t an option. Her family had too many mouths to feed.”

Mandy tried to picture Hattie, to imagine what she looked like, but she couldn’t get past Jared’s lusty fantasy of a farm girl. Somehow she doubted that Hattie wore pigtails and too-tight gingham dresses.

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