He returned her smile, and the light in his eyes sent heat rushing to her face.
“I like the way you think.”
“No reason you can’t come a little early, though, right?”
He reached across the table and grasped her hand with a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here for the opening of your show.”
“Okay.” Her voice came out breathy, and she fought the urge to join him on the other side of the booth.
“Do you know where your parents will stay that weekend? Should I book a room in the same place?”
Her heart thumped. She hadn’t thought that through. He probably couldn’t stay at her place. She hated to make him pay for a room, but too many surprises at once could send her mother into cardiac arrest.
“Hmm. That’s probably a good idea. I’ll find out if Dad has booked anything.”
“Just let me know.”
“Hey, mind if I ask something personal?”
He stopped eating and gave her his full attention. “Shoot.”
“Is HomeBuilders paying you? This isn’t a free-but-look-at-all-the-exposure opportunity, is it?”
“You’re a little young to be so cynical, sweetheart.” He shook his head but smiled at the same time. “Yes, they’re paying me a nice sum. I would’ve done it for less, but I don’t work for exposure anymore.”
Relief whooshed through Kat. “Good. Artists should be paid for their work.” She nodded toward his empty plate. “Ready to go?”
“Sure.”
Holding hands, they walked the short distance to the subway. Only a few people dotted the seats inside.
“This’ll only be about fifteen minutes,” Kat told Nick.
“So this volunteer gig isn’t part of your job? The museum isn’t a sponsor?”
“No, but I love doing it. Sure, it scores me points with the museum and looks good on my résumé, but it’s also a lot of fun.”
“You like the kids?”
“I do. I like exposing them to art. We focus on freedom of expression. Every time we start a new session, we ask them what color the sky is, and they all say blue. Then we show them a bunch of pictures of sunsets and sunrises where the sky is pink and orange and purple. And stormy skies that are green and gray. Then we ask what color an apple is, and they all say red, so we show them pictures of apples that are dark red, and medium red, then pinkish. And apples that are yellow and green. It’s so fun to see when they get it.”
Grinning, Nick caught the hand she’d been gesturing with. “You’re obviously good at it. Ever think about teaching?”
“Absolutely not,” Kat said. “Haven’t you ever heard those who cando, those who can’t teach? No, thanks. Anyway, it takes a certain kind of person to teach day after day after day, and that’s not me. I’m perfectly happy doing an occasional volunteer job. This just-for-fun class is the kind of thing I loved as a kid—when I could talk my mom into it,” she added.
He let her “those who can’t, teach” comment go. Yeah, he’d heard it before, but Kat was right about one thing. It took a special person to handle kids and connect with them, keep order, and inspire at the same time. His mother had been a public-school teacher for thirty years. Kat wanted success on a grander scale. He hoped that happened for her but would like to see her open her eyes to other possibilities as well.
Something stirred inside Nick as he listened to Kat. Art gave her such joy and energy. How sad that a kid had to struggle to simply explore her interests and talents. Knowing this about Kat’s mother definitely changed his perception of her. He couldn’t wait to get the Andrews job done. The only snag was, he’d just spent the night with her daughter. And liked her—a lot.
Nick ran a hand over his jaw, remembering his last encounter with Kat’s mother. Man, he was going to have to work on his poker face before the next trip to her place. At least the job would be done before Kat’s exhibit—he could only imagine Rebecca’s reaction when he showed up.
“Does your mother know you do volunteer stuff like this?”
“I’ve mentioned it, but my mom believes in supporting the arts philanthropically as a member of high society. She doesn’t want to get her hands dirty down in the trenches.”
“Who does she think is going to train and inspire the performers of the future?”
“It would never cross her mind.”
