Danielle Steel - Impossible

“I told you I hate being trendy,” he said, looking unconcerned. He had had a terrific time, and was proud to be out with her. “Besides, nine years is no big deal.”

“Maybe not to you,” she said with a giggle as she snuggled next to him and he turned off the light. “I'm not sure my kids would feel that way.” And on bad days, neither did she.

“When am I going to meet Tatianna?” he asked in the darkness.

“Probably at the opening this week. She doesn't always come, but she said she would this time.”

“Do you think she'll like me?”

“Maybe. It's hard to tell. Tatianna is tough to predict. She has strong opinions. She loves some people, and others she hates. It'll go a lot better if she doesn't know you're involved with me.” She had no intention of telling either of her children for the moment. It was none of their business. She and Liam were still taking their relationship out for a spin. They hadn't decided to make a down payment on it yet. But so far they were doing well. Even she had to admit it, although she had doubted it was possible. So far so good.

Chapter 13

Liam was excited about the show at her gallery that week. It was going to give him a sense of what they'd be doing for him in six months. And he liked the artist whose show it was. He was a young man from Minnesota whom Sasha had discovered at the art fair in Chicago the year before. He did powerful, provoking work. She had been at the gallery till two in the morning the night before, hanging his paintings, standing back and looking at them, then moving them around again, until she liked it. She was a perfectionist in all things.

Liam had stuck around till midnight to watch her do it. She was so lost in thought and concentration, she hardly talked to him, and finally he left. He was sound asleep in her bed when she got home.

The next day Sasha was at the gallery all day. She showered and changed her clothes there, and was greeting guests when Liam walked in for the party at six o'clock. She looked beautiful in a white linen suit, in stark contrast to her jet-black hair, dark eyes, and summer tan. Her eyes were a deep sable brown, and sometimes looked almost black. She smiled at him the moment she saw him walk in. She introduced him to the artist, and several more people, and then left him to greet others. He was wearing black slacks, a white shirt, his loafers, no socks, no jacket or tie. But in the uptown arty group, what he had worn seemed appropriate and didn't stand out. The artists wore all manner of dress, her clients wore suits and ties. There were several well-known models there, a famous photographer, who bought her work frequently. Writers, playwrights, art critics, museum people, and others who just came for the free ride and the champagne and hors d'oeuvres. It was a standard New York art opening, only better, because Suvery Gallery was top of the line.

Tatianna walked in at eight o'clock, the crowd was thinning out by then, but there were still plenty of people scattered through the exhibition rooms. She was on her way to dinner somewhere, and came because she had said she'd stop by. Her mother's openings were old hat to her. She was wearing a simple turquoise silk summer dress and sexy high-heeled silver sandals, and she looked striking as she walked in. With her halo of almost-white blond hair and big blue eyes, she looked nothing like her mother. Liam saw her stop to talk to Sasha and wondered instantly who she was, and then he saw her kiss her mother, as the two women exchanged a warm hug. He knew then it was her daughter, but nothing about their appearances, nor their style, would have suggested to anyone that they were related. Tatianna was slinky and sexy, and everything about her was standoffish and cool. Sasha was far warmer and more animated, introducing people to each other, smiling, and talking. The essence of Sasha was warm and inviting. To Liam, the core of Tatianna seemed cold. Sasha had told him that Tatianna was shy. She stood apart from everyone for a moment, as her eyes swept the room. He could tell from looking at her that she was used to men admiring her. At twenty-four, striking in her youth and beauty, she was at the height of her game. Her mother was much humbler, and although she was striking too, part of her charm was that she was unaware of her beauty, and always had been. Sasha had tremendous charisma and charm. Liam found Tatianna daunting, just watching her from the distance. He kept his eyes on her as people came to talk to her, and then as though sensing him, she turned her head and her eyes met his. He had the feeling she didn't like him, even from across the room.

He waited a while before going over to talk to her, so she wouldn't suspect anything. He didn't want to appear anxious, or as though he were pursuing her.

He nearly bumped into her as he walked by her, and helped himself to an hors d'oeuvre from a passing tray. She was standing, looking aloof, while three young men crowded around her, and she sipped a glass of champagne. He decided to join the group.

“Hello,” he said pleasantly, “I'm Liam Allison. Nice show, isn't it?” She looked at him as though he had said something rude. Everything about her body language told him not to enter her space. Sasha was far more nurturing and welcomed people in. She was the consummate mother.

“Yes, it is,” Tatianna said, seeming indifferent to him. “Are you an artist?” He looked like one, almost everyone there did, and she had met a lot of them in the course of her life. She wasn't easy to impress.

“Yes, I am. I'm having a show here in December.”

“What kind of work?” He explained his theories to her, and suspected she hadn't listened to a word, which would have been correct. She had heard it all before. She seemed to lack her mother's innocence, vitality, and excitement about life. He liked Sasha a whole lot better. Independent of his relationship with her mother, he would never have pursued this girl. She was far too cool and snooty for him. And he was far too old and arty looking for her. The men she went out with were preppy and traditional, and most of them worked on Wall Street. She thought the men she met in the art scene, even at her mother's gallery, were self-centered jerks. She assumed the same about him. With only a few words of conversation between them, they took an instant dislike to each other. In an effort to warm things up a little, if only for Sasha's sake, he mentioned that he knew her brother. She nodded, and seemed not to care. She realized then that she'd heard his name before, but Xavier always had crazy, badly behaved friends. Tatianna didn't.

A few minutes later, Sasha arrived to join them. She had seen them circling each other, and was worried. Tatianna looked annoyed, never a good sign. Liam looked curious about her, and Sasha was afraid he would give it away if he asked her too many questions, or was too friendly. Tatianna seemed to suspect nothing. She just didn't want to get to know him, and there was no reason why she should, that she knew of.

“Have you two met?” Sasha asked, appearing casual, as she put an arm around her daughter and stood apart from Liam, looking like an art dealer and a mother, and nothing more. And surely not his woman.

“Yes, we have,” Liam said with a warm smile at Sasha, which her eyes returned.

“Liam is one of our artists and a friend of Xavier's from London. That's how I met him. He scouted him for us. He's having a show in December. What are you up to tonight?” Sasha asked Tatianna. She looked beautiful, undeniably, but Sasha hated it when you could see her body through her dress, which one could. But she looked no different from the other young women at the party. These days they all dressed like that at her age. It always made Sasha nervous, but she said nothing. Tatianna was old enough to wear what she wanted, and do as she chose.