Painted Dreams (Art from the Heart #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

K atlyn Andrews arrived in Denver to little fanfare. Her father met her at the airport, greeting her with a quick hug and a light kiss on the cheek. “Great to see you, sweetie. Welcome home.”

“Hi, Dad. Nice to see you, too.” Kat swallowed hard and tamped down the flutters in her stomach. Home? She tossed her red felted purse over her shoulder then stopped as she realized her dad was staring at her and about to get mowed down by people swarming around baggage claim. “What’s the matter?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just that you look like a teenager. I can’t believe you’re all grown up and living in New York City.” He lifted her suitcase. “You ready?”

“Sure.” She followed behind as he led the way to the car.

“You can use this car while you’re home.” He opened the trunk of the small SUV her parents kept as a third car. “I’m sure you’ll want to go over to Nana’s place and see some friends. I’ll drive my Beemer.”

“But Dad– Mom said I could have the Beemer.”

He jerked his head toward her, eyes narrowed. “What?”

Kat let out a hoot. With a grin, she climbed inside.

“You got me.” Her dad laughed, closing the car door. “That was good.”

“Don’t worry. I know better,” Kat assured him. “Hope I can remember how to drive.”

“I think it’s like riding a bicycle. It’ll come back to you. Weather’s supposed to be nice, so you shouldn’t have to drive in the snow.”

“Yay.” She looked forward to driving again, but not on snow-packed roads. That’s what subways were for. Snow was only good for staying inside by the fire with a chai latte and a good book.

Her dad pulled the car onto the highway, and silence settled between them. Kat gazed out the window at the familiar peaks of the Rockies in the distance. Two years since she’d seen those. The landscape hadn’t changed much. She didn’t expect anything else had, either.

“So, you doing okay?” her dad asked tentatively.

She glanced over and couldn’t help feeling that her dad was a bit of a stranger. He seemed tense, unsure what to say. “I’m fine, Dad.”

“Do you need any money?”

Whoa. She wasn’t expecting to go right to the money conversation.

Better to have it without her mom around, though.

The cost of frames for the upcoming gallery exhibit came to mind, and she gave a wry smile.

“I wouldn’t turn any down. But, yes, I’m doing all right, as long as you and Mom don’t mind helping with the apartment a little while longer. ”

“We don’t mind at all. You know we helped Christopher and Elizabeth with cars and insurance after they graduated. We want you living in a safe place.”

Kat didn’t need or want a car in the city, so her parents had been willing to pay a similar sum toward her living expenses instead. Her siblings had followed long-established career paths, and both still lived nearby in Denver. She nodded. “Thanks, Dad.”

At twenty-eight, she hated taking any assistance, but New York City was expensive.

The art studio space she shared with other artists cost as well.

Kat wanted to be financially independent—to reach that level of success.

More than a few times, she’d considered moving to one of the less expensive boroughs, but her commute time would double.

Besides that, while her dad wanted Kat in a safe place, her mom wanted her daughter in a place that wouldn’t embarrass her.

With a little luck, Kat could wean herself from their help soon. She wanted to cut the cord but not before she had a good-sized nest egg to fall back on.

When her dad turned the car down Sycamore Lane, Kat sucked in a deep breath and twisted her hands in her lap.

Could she handle a whole week here? A week of being invisible?

If it got unbearable at the house, she supposed a sleeping bag on Nana’s floor wasn’t out of the question.

In fact, a slumber party at Nana’s sounded like a fabulous idea.

Seeing Nana Kitty was the main reason for coming home for Christmas, after all.

She couldn’t wait to see her grandmother and inspect this new “senior living” complex.

She hoped that wasn’t a euphemism for nursing home.

“How’s Nana doing, Dad?”

“Oh, Mom’s fine. A little slower maybe but getting around all right.”

“Then why did she have to move out of her house?” The thought of Nana losing her independence chilled Kat, and guilt gnawed at her.

Kat swallowed past the lump that formed in her throat.

Dear Nana Kitty. Her house had been a refuge for the small, forlorn girl Kat had been as a child.

Nana was always there with a hug, a smile, words of encouragement.

Nana was the one who’d never missed school plays, recitals, and art shows.

“This makes things easier for her,” her dad said. “Someone else does the cooking and cleaning and home maintenance. And a nursing staff is on call twenty-four-seven.”

Those all sounded good, but Kat wondered if her grandmother wanted to move from her longtime home. Nana was always so gracious and careful with her words that sometimes it was hard to know her true feelings. Well, Kat would see for herself soon enough.

Her dad pulled the car into the drive, and Kat glanced around the orderly yard and house.

Everything looked as neat and trim as always.

The tall white columns that flanked the brick steps up to the two-story colonial shone in the winter sun.

The only surprise was an older model black SUV already parked there.

“Who’s here?”

He shrugged. “Your mother has some people starting on a project. She’s calling it phase two. I’ll get your bag. You go on in.”

With the limited information her dad had given her, Kat expected to see some kind of worker in the house.

Her mom had a plumber, electrician or handyman working so often that she kept a tarp in the front closet to protect the floors along with a box of disposable shoe covers she made people wear over their dirty boots.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much she could do about sweaty shirts and the occasional butt crack.

But the scene in the dining room was not normal. Kat stopped short. Her mother sat at the long mahogany table nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with a handsome man in a black dress shirt and tie.

They both looked up as Kat entered the room. She could see that they’d been looking at papers scattered across the table.

“Hi.” She shook her hair free of the hat she’d been wearing.

The man stood, and with a jolt to her system, Kat stared.

He had a solid build, chocolate-brown hair, a trim dark beard, and emerald-green eyes.

His shirtsleeves were pushed up, revealing muscular arms. Kat was momentarily flustered as those gorgeous eyes locked onto hers.

“Katherine, this is Nick Summers,” her mother said. “He’s a carpenter. We’re talking about some new bookcases and mantel for the living room.” She turned to Nick and added, “This is my daughter Katherine.”

“Hello,” Kat said softly, extending her hand. “I’m Kat.”

Nick Summers smiled and shook her hand. “Very nice to meet you, Kat.”

Her insides tingled as she registered the warmth in both his hand and his smile.

Flushing under his scrutiny, she gave a nervous laugh.

“Nice to meet you, too. I didn’t know Mom was starting a new project.

” Not that she would ever know what her mother was doing.

They rarely spoke. Kat looked expectantly at her mother.

“Well, I told the committee that puts on the Symphony homes tour that I was thinking about a project, and the next thing I know, they wanted to put us on the tour.” Her mother clapped her hands together and gave a little laugh.

“We finished the kitchen and now the other rooms are looking shabby. Having a deadline is about the only way to make sure everything gets done.”

Kat offered a polite smile, but she knew better. It wasn’t a deadline that motivated her mom. It was the promise of an audience.

Her mother began gathering papers, prompting Nick Summers to do the same. “Why don’t I take these with me and draw up some ideas for you to look at?”

Kat stared at him. She’d never heard such a distinctive voice—velvety rich and commanding. The kind of voice you’d recognize immediately. Interesting.

“Excellent.” Her mother’s tone was brisk as she handed the pages to Nick. “I’ll look forward to seeing your drawings.”

Leaning against the table, Kat’s glance landed on a stack of glossy photos. “Are these photos of your work?”

She started to reach for them but pulled back when he snatched them up.

* * *

Nick glanced at his client’s daughter and pretended not to notice the surprise on her face.

He shot a quick look back at Rebecca Andrews, regretting he hadn’t put the photos away earlier.

She obviously had more traditional tastes than what he was used to.

But he wanted this job, wanted the exposure the homes tour would give him, and he didn’t want the pics to blow his chances.

When the phone rang, distracting Rebecca, he let his shoulders relax.

“Excuse me.” She turned toward the kitchen. “Just let me know when those sketches are ready.”

Sounded as if he’d been dismissed. But her daughter stayed put, looking at him with soft curiosity in her eyes. His pulse quickened as his eyes met her large smoky blue ones that dominated her smooth, pretty face.

“These are some of my pieces,” he told her. “But I don’t think they’re quite what your mother is looking for, so I’m not going to bother her with them.”

She moved closer. “Mind if I take a look? I promise I won’t show Mom,” she whispered.

Reluctantly, he held the prints out to her. He studied Kat as she leafed through them. She seemed to be examining each one with genuine interest. When she got to his favorite mantelpiece, she stopped and looked up, true appreciation in her eyes.

“This is fabulous.”

He smiled. “Thanks. I’m glad you like them, but you can see–”