“No. Wistful is a good word. Almost sad. And I don’t want to feel sad, but when I look at it, I can’t look away. I’m mesmerized. I keep looking for a key.”

“A key to what?”

“I don’t mean a literal key. But there’s secrecy here. Like something’s hiding, and it wants to get out, but…” I shook my head. “I’m probably making no sense at all.”

“You’re making perfect sense. Go on.”

Oh, God. Why had I started this? This man was brilliant, and I sounded like a high school art student trying to impress a teacher. “I can’t find any more words. I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry.”

“Did I come anywhere close to what you were going for?” I couldn’t help asking.

“It doesn’t matter what I was going for. What matters is that you like it, that it evoked an emotional response in you. That means I did my job, at least as far as you’re concerned.”

“As far as I’m concerned?”

“Art, as you know, is subjective. What one person loves another might hate.”

“No one could hate this,” I said.

He smiled. More perfection. I didn’t come to work the first day at a new job to have my body react to the first man I met.

But boy, was my body reacting.

“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Though I’d rather someone hate it than be indifferent. Hate is still a powerful emotional response.”

I stared at him, willing my mouth not to drop open. His words rang so true, yet I’d never considered hate in that way.

I glanced at my watch. Crap. I didn’t want to leave this man, but—

“Uh-oh. I’m going to be late. Nice meeting you.” I turned and walked—

“There is no key.”

His voice. It permeated me as though it had come from within myself.

I looked over my shoulder to catch one more glimpse of the gorgeous artist with more talent in one finger than I’d ever have.

He was already gone.

Lacey stuck her head into my office. “Settling in?”

“Yeah. I still can’t believe I’m working here.”

“Believe it.” She smiled. “We’re all going to be working our butts off until Derek Wolfe’s murder is solved.”

“It’s crazy that all of you are implicated.”

“I know. It’s ridiculous. I’m finally able to sleep at night, as long as Rock holds me. I know I’m innocent, but how can I prove it when the videotape from my apartment is missing?”

“And the others?”

“All their fingerprints are at the crime scene.”

“Why is that even an issue? Especially for Fonda. She was sleeping with Derek, for God’s sake. Of course her fingerprints are there.”

“They’re not leaving any stone unturned, so it’s up to us to figure this out.”

“Us?”