The painting showed light filtering through trees opening up onto a clearing, where a mother and her children enjoyed a picnic together. It was signed Elena Tighe, as were the other paintings on either side of her. She turned to her assistant, an expression of delight on her face. But her assistant was nowhere in sight. In her place stood a man. A man who made her eyes widen and her heart beat erratically even as she told herself she was being ridiculous. “Can I help you?” she asked politely, taking in all six feet of him. Dark haired with chocolate coloured eyes, he was the type of man woman drooled over. And he probably knew it too, she thought defiantly. “Brad. Brad Phillips,” he said, holding out his hand as if expecting her to know who he was. “So are you here for coffee,” she said, puzzled. “Or are you interested in the art work?” “Coffee sounds good,” he said neutrally. “I don’t think I can afford the artwork… Yet.”
