Take Me Home Read Online Free Page A

artist’s name, and then his pronunciation turned classically Spanish. Add to that the fact he knew Julia Castillo painted horses. She reminded herself that he had been married to a prominent stage actress; he must have rubbed shoulders with some of the artistic set.
    “You’re more than welcome to see it,” she said, “but it isn’t for sale.”
    “And here I thought this was an art gallery, not a museum.” Tim’s gaze swept the paintings spotlighted on the white walls of the gallery.
    “The painting belongs to me,” Claire said, “but I feel such a beautiful piece of art should be shared. You may not be aware of this, but Ms. Castillo has not produced any new work for well over a year. Therefore, we have none to sell.”
    And it was the only painting her ex had left her with in the divorce settlement, so she treasured it beyond its artistic merit.
    Claire doubted Dr. Tim could afford a Castillo anyway. Since there was no new supply of paintings, the value of the existing ones had skyrocketed, another reason she kept hers at the gallery.Davis had recently upgraded the security and fire prevention systems, so she didn’t have to worry about theft or damage.
    “The painting is this way,” Claire said, starting toward the back of the gallery, where a windowless room with extra alarms held the most valuable inventory.
    As Tim followed her down the hallway, she actually felt the floorboards vibrate as his feet hit the old oak planks. Never before had she been so aware of a man’s presence through nothing more than his footsteps.
    She glanced at her companion and caught him doing the same to her.
    “So Sharon said you’re from up north.”
    “Actually, I grew up about ten miles south of Sanctuary,” she said.
    “From your lack of accent, I’d say you’d moved away for some time, then,” Tim said.
    “You’d be correct.” Refusing to be drawn into a discussion of her time in New York, she reached the door to the “Castillo room” and punched in the alarm code. “Are you a collector?”
    “I like pictures of horses. I have a couple by Larry Wheeler, a very minor George Stubbs, as well as a few of Lionel Edwards’s humorous drawings. I’ve never been a fan of Munnings, but I have one nice pencil sketch by Degas. I’ve always wanted to own a Castillo, though.”
    Claire kept her jaw from dropping, but she knew her eyes had gone wide. He had just punctured her unconsciously judgmental balloon with his list of well-known equine artists. He’d done it on purpose too, just as her ex-husband had in their fateful first meeting six years ago. Except Tim wasn’t trying to snow her with his knowledge. With a mental shake, she gathered up her professional persona. “Perhaps I can help you. I have contacts with other collectors.”
    She swung the door open and gestured for the vet to precede her into the room, but he didn’t move.
    “After you, ma’am.”
    It still surprised her when the scruffiest of rednecks would hold a door for her or offer her a seat at the bar. She had been too young to receive such courtesies when she’d bolted from her home in the middle of nowhere right after high school. Yet Dr. Tim’s courtly manners were just exaggerated enough to be touched with irony. He had caught her out in her inadvertent snobbery.
    All irony dropped from him when he caught sight of the work of art hung in the place of honor. It was a large canvas with a group of five horses standing together in the middle of a landscape of meadow, mountains, and sky. The vibrant colors were both softened and heightened by the slight haze of a low-slanting, late-day sun.
    His eyes narrowed into a look of intense concentration, and she heard the intake of breath as the full impact of Castillo’s genius hit him. He took a few steps toward the painting, as though drawn by a magnetic force, then stood still.
    Claire loved to watch people react to art. She could learn so much about them. This man understood what he was looking