“Good! You’re on time.” The attorney waved her inside. She was a tall, big-boned woman who was probably in her early sixties. She wore a white pantsuit with a black and white houndstooth print blouse. From the crown of her upswept blond hair she pulled down her glasses and studied Rainey for a moment.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“You don’t look a day over twenty-one. Lucky you. Call me Grace.” She smiled and extended her hand which Rainey shook. “Sit down.”

Rainey took the chair opposite her desk. “I take it I’ve painted a celebrity by accident.”

The woman made a funny noise in her throat. “Ever heard of the Sterling bank of America?”

She bit her lip. “Who hasn’t?”

“Ever heard of Sterling Shipping lines?”

Rainey’s body started to feel heavier in the chair. She nodded.

“Ever hear of U.S. Supreme Court Justice Richard Sterling?”

“Yes,” Rainey whispered.

“Ever hear of Senator Phyllis Sterling-Boyce? Ambassador Lloyd Sterling? Rear Admiral Daniel Sterling?”

Her eyes closed tightly for a moment. “Of course.”

By now Rainey was squirming.

Grace handed her a recent publication of World Fortune Magazine. “The whole lot of them don’t even count compared to this Sterling.”

Rainey took one look at the man on the cover and gasped.

King of Glass New York Billionaire-soon-to-be-Trillionaire Payne Sterling discovers ancient burial ground while mucking about with fiber-optic cable in his underworld kingdom close to Wall Street.

She read the caption twice before she studied the man in hard hat and jeans resting against an enormous cable.

Like pure revelation she understood why she’d been so drawn to him that she’d felt compelled to put his face and body to canvas.

“Oh boy.” Rainey’s voice shook before she handed the magazine back to Grace.

The attorney eyed her with compassion. “Oh boy is right. He’s the embodiment of one of the sons of the Earl of Sterling who left England for America to build an empire of his own.”

She tapped the cover. “This one shuns publicity like it was the plague of mankind, but he’s so damned attractive it still comes after him, innocently or otherwise.”

She winked at Rainey who groaned out loud.

“Cynthia Taft, the newest attorney to join our staff, handled Manhattan Merger while I was on a leave of absence. She came to us from Los Angeles and probably didn’t catch the likeness because Payne Sterling is a celebrity in a very different pond than that of Hollywood.

“When I returned, I noticed his likeness on the cover and brought it to Claud’s attention. However he said not to worry about it because there’d been no trouble with the other covers. What was done, was done, and this wouldn’t be the first time an artist had unwittingly painted a cover that resembled a real person.”

“Except that I did draw his face from memory,” Rainey admitted.

“According to Don, you do that quite often.”

“Yes.”

“As I told you on the phone, I think we’re going to be fine, but it will take the rest of the day to prepare our case.”

Her pulse raced faster. “Case?”

“His attorney has already filed papers with the court. A judge is going to hold a closed door hearing tomorrow at two o’clock, so we have our work cut out.”

“What?” Rainey cried out aghast. “You mean he’s suing me?”

“You, the author Bonnie Wrigley and Red Rose Publishers.”

“Good heavens-”

Grace’s eyebrows lifted. “Don’t forget you’re dealing with a Sterling. The name moves mountains. But not to worry. He won’t win.

“By the way, who’s the person at Global Greeting Cards who will give us an affidavit to the effect that you haven’t put Mr. Sterling on any of their products?”

That was easy. “Saul Goldberg.”

She nodded. “I know Saul. Good man. All right. First things first. If we can get your mother and brother here in twenty-four hours, let’s do it. Red Rose will be paying their expenses.”

“Mom could come. But I don’t know if it’s possible to reach my brother in time.”

Grace eyed her intently. “Try. Mr. Sterling’s attorney, Drew Wallace, is the best there is if you know what I mean. He’s pulled this in the hope of catching us un-prepared, but we’ll show him.”

Rainey admired the other woman’s grit. Though she didn’t know anything about Grace Carlow, she had an idea the attorney was actually enjoying this.

“I’ll have to phone the company Craig works for and see if they can find him. My mother knows the number.”

“As long as you’re phoning her, tell her to bring that photograph with her. One more thing. Don said you do preliminary sketches before you start your paintings. Where are your drawings of Mr. Sterling?”

She gave Grace a sheepish glance. “The old ones are stored at my parents’ home.”

“Do you have pictures of them on disk?”

“No, only the finished portraits. Those disks are at my apartment.”

“I see. Tell your mother to bring the drawings too. When you get back to your apartment, burn the new ones!” she fired.

Rainey could weep for the sketches she’d done of him in cowboy gear as recently as three days ago. Sketches that would never appear on another book cover.

“Use my phone while I have a talk with Cynthia who’s trying to track down Bonnie Wrigley. I’ll be back in a minute to depose you.”

As soon as Grace left the room, Rainey hurried around the desk to call home. It was only quarter after eight in Grand Junction. Her father was a dentist and had probably left for his office already. He would have to get his partner to cover for him so he could drive her mom to the Denver airport with the requested items.

Later in the year, after all his little patients were back in school, her folks had plans to fly out to New York. They were going to spend time taking in the sights, then rent a car and drive Rainey through New England to see the turning of the leaves.

As it stood, her mom, and possibly her brother, were going to get an unexpected sneak preview of New York from the inside of a courtroom.

“Good news,” Grace announced ten minutes later. “Bonnie Wrigley will be at our office in the morning. How are things on your end?”

“Mom will fly in tonight with the items we need. The company Craig works for knows where he is and will get back to my father. Dad will call your office to let us know what’s happening.”

“Excellent. What do you want for lunch? They have great goulash and cheesecake at the deli down the street.”

“That sounds good.”

“Are you a coffee drinker?”

“No. Water or juice is fine.”

She nodded before buzzing her secretary.

“All right.” Grace sat forward with her fingers interlinked on top of the desk. “What Mr. Wallace will do is try to show that Red Rose Publishers willfully broke the law by using his client’s likeness on the covers for monetary gain without obtaining his permission.

“He’s asked us to bring the figures on the sales of those books to show that revenues went up when his client appeared on the covers.”

“This is all my fault,” Rainey whispered, feeling more and more ill by the moment. “He should be taking me to court, not the company.”

“We’re a family here at Red Rose. We defend our own, and we’ll prove it was an honest mistake. The worst to happen will be that we’re barred from using Mr. Sterling’s likeness on any more covers.

“It’s a shame, really,” she added. “Though he’s responsible for developing a whole new world-wide infrastructure, ninety-nine percent of our romance readership has no idea that Mr. Payne Sterling exists. All they care about is the man on those covers who is drop-dead gorgeous.”

Rainey averted her eyes. “He is that.”

“And you’re the remarkable artist who brought him to breathtaking life. Manhattan Merger ranks among the ten bestselling novels ever put out at Red Rose. That speaks highly for you and Bonnie Wrigley who wrote the terrific story in the first place. Red Rose is lucky to have both of you on the team.”

“Thank you. I hope you’ll still be saying that when the hearing is over.”

“I’m not worried. The truth will set us free, my dear. Why don’t you start by telling me the process you went through from the moment Don phoned you about Manhattan Merger until you shipped off your painting to New York. Don’t worry about dates. He has already supplied me with everything I need in that regard.”

Without preamble Rainey explained how she worked up a project. Grace interjected a question here and there. Lunch came and went. Still they talked. At three the phone rang through to Grace’s office.

It was Rainey’s father on the phone to tell her Craig’s company had flown him to Las Vegas by helicopter and he would be arriving at JFK airport before midnight.

Grace’s eyes lit up at that news. “Your brother will be one of the key witnesses in your defense. I couldn’t be more pleased to know he’s coming. This is going even better than I expected.”

“If you say so,” Rainey murmured.

“I do. Tomorrow morning we’ll assemble here at eight-thirty in the conference room down the hall. I’ll rehearse what’s going to happen and prepare your mother and brother for the kinds of questions Mr. Wallace will ask during cross-examination. Your job will be to perform for Mr. Wallace.”

Rainey frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I have a hunch he’ll show you a picture of a man or woman you’ve never seen before, then ask you to sketch them from memory. He’ll supply you with a sketch pad and pencils.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

“Of course not.”

“What should I wear?”

“The outfit you have on is fine.”

Rainey got up from the chair. “Thank you so much for your help. I’ll never be able to pay you back.”