by Ember Dante
“You know, some local assignments would be nice. Yeah, I’ll go wherever they want, but…” Bowing his head, he squeezed his eyes shut and released a long, weary sigh. Before he exhaled the entire breath, he lifted his head. “Really? When?” His head swiveled toward me. “Possibly. Let me know when, and I’ll see if I can make that happen. Cool. Talk to you later, Mark.”
Ian disconnected the call and tossed the phone on the table before turning toward me and leaning close for a kiss. “Morning, baby. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No.” I tugged the shirt collar. “I hope you don’t mind, I helped myself.”
“Not at all.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “It seems my agent has developed the annoying habit of calling on Saturday morning when I’m trying to sleep in with you.”
“He’s just trying to keep you busy.” I blew on my coffee before taking a sip. “What was that look you gave me? When you said you’d see if you could make it happen?”
“How would you like to go to New Orleans with me?”
My heart rate spiked. “New Orleans? When?”
“Most likely the end of June or possibly the weekend after the Fourth. The shoot won’t take very long, and we’d have the rest of the time to ourselves.” He waggled his eyebrows. “It could be a fun trip.”
Hell yes, I wanted to go. “Would that just be a weekend, or…?”
“We would probably need to leave on Friday and come back Monday. Or we could do Thursday through Monday. You would potentially need three days off work.”
Biting my bottom lip to stifle the huge grin threatening to spread across my face, I nodded. “Yes, I’d love to go with you. Let me know which weekend as soon as you can, and I’ll schedule the time.”
“He’s supposed to get back to me later today or tomorrow.”
I set my cup beside his and lunged, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Thank you for asking.”
“I’m being selfish, believe me.” He laughed. “I want you with me.”
I kissed his cheek. "Do you have to work today?"
Ian wrapped his arms around me, his hands trailing down my back. "No." His lips brushed over my forehead. “Do you have plans today?”
“None that involved getting dressed.”
Hope flickered in his eyes. “So I get to keep you all to myself today?”
I nodded again, kissing him. “Yes. Tonight too, if you like.”
“Hell yes, I like.” He kissed me. “I’ll be gone most of next week, so I want as much time with you as I can get.”
“Isn’t tomorrow the ballgame?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t start until two.” His fingers stroked, then weaved through my hair. “I can take you home on the way to the ballpark.”
I backed away with a sigh. “I’m sorry about last night. There’s usually not that much drama during happy hour.”
“Why are you sorry? It wasn’t your fault.”
I backed farther away, letting my hands fall to my lap. My eyes squeezed closed just a moment before I met his gaze. “Was Becky right? Should I have just listened to what Brett had to say? What about everything else she said? Did I overreact about Kyle? Do I overreact about everything and get pissed off when I don’t get my way?”
Ian’s eyebrows knit together. “Hey—where is this coming from?”
I lowered my gaze from the intensity in his eyes, wishing I hadn’t said anything. “I don’t know. Maybe I deserved to hear all of all those things. Maybe I’m being selfish.”
His hands cupped my jaw, holding me in place so I couldn’t turn away. “It’s not selfish to avoid someone who hurt you. It’s not selfish to protect your professional reputation.” His voice was firm. “And it’s damn sure not selfish to stand up for yourself.” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I don’t know your friend, and I can’t begin to guess what prompted her to say that shit, but you are not a selfish person.”
“Aren’t I? One of the reasons I was reluctant to get involved with you was how it might possibly affect my job. Isn’t that being selfish?”
“Baby, everybody is selfish about something to varying degrees. It’s the way we’re made as human beings. We all think about ourselves first in most cases.” His hand drifted down to wrap around my bicep and gave me a gentle squeeze.
“You’re not selfish. Based on the things you’ve told me, you’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met.”
He laughed, then placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’m selfish about one thing.”
Now it was my turn to frown. His hands returned to my jaw and caressed my face with both thumbs.
“You, baby. I want as much of you as I can have.”
“Are you sure you’re not Buddha? How do you do that?”
“What?” he chuckled.
“Say exactly the right thing at exactly the right time.”
“What can I say? You inspire me.”
“How so?”
“To be a better man.”
I leaned closer and kissed him on the lips. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Being you,” I murmured. “Coming into my life when you did. You brought me back to life.”
“That’s the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“I’m just telling you the truth.”
“I like your truth.”
“So do I.”
14
Emmy
Everything was a blur once we arrived at the gallery. The exhibit didn’t open until eight, but a surprising number of guests were already in attendance. I usually had a great memory for names and faces, but the preliminary introductions were just too much. Most of the heavy hitters in Dallas society were there, the ones who kept galleries like Zone V in business, and as much as Ian fussed about all the glad-handing, it wasn’t long before he had them eating out of the palm of his hand.
I tried to remain engaged and pay attention, but found my eyes wandering around the room, trying to get a look at his work. I finally excused myself, citing a need to powder my nose, so I could dawdle on the way back and look around. I could feel Ian’s eyes on me as I walked away, and that knowledge added a little more sway to my hips.
The trip to the ladies room was a good opportunity to give my appearance another check, but I still didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me. I indulged myself by taking the day off and having a spa day in preparation for the evening being buffed, polished, painted, coiffed, and sprayed to perfection. Yes, I looked great, but it just wasn’t me. I liked nice things and looking nice, but I would never consider myself a “glamazon.” However, the process was worth it because Ian couldn’t take his eyes off of me from the time he’d picked me up until we got to the gallery. Even then, with his attention diverted to the other guests, I caught him staring several times, and he always found a way to touch me in some manner, usually his hand on my hip or lower back, or a slight brush of his fingertips down my arm. Each gesture let me know that although he was speaking to someone else, he was still thinking about me—and that is the way every woman wants her man to make her feel.
Grabbing a glass of wine from a passing server, I opted for a circuitous route back to Ian so I could see as much as possible. I thought the photographs hanging in his studio were good, but the ones on display were breathtaking. I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, even knowing what little I did about his work, but the man’s creativity was boundless. There were several pieces that, at first glance, appeared to be intricately draped fabric. It took several moments before I realized they were actually female torsos, and the images were cropped in such a way to give the initial impression of fabric. Stunning.
Moving on, I noticed several women dressed in latex or leather, some bound or blindfolded, yet the poses still tastefully executed. None of the images I studied were overtly sexual but were designed to leave the viewer wanting more. A familiar heat washed over me and I pressed my thighs together to stave off the dull throb of desire. It was neither the time nor th
e place to get swept away with lust. I didn’t think I could get away with dragging Ian into a dark corner so I could jump him.
I exchanged my empty glass for a fresh one from another server and moved on to the next series—a group of silhouettes with black backgrounds and a single light source. All of them showed only the vaguest hint of the model’s body, leaving her face mostly obscured by shadow. I was left speechless. Ian was a brilliant artist. There was only one image that came close to showing her face, in a three-quarter profile with a sheet draped over and around her, obscuring most of her body. Her head was tilted back, her mouth lax, as if in the throes of passion. The image sent my blood pressure into the stratosphere.
“Pretty hot, huh?”
I jumped, startled by the man beside me, whom I hadn’t noticed standing there.
“I’m sorry. You scared me.”
“My apologies. I suppose I should have said something when I walked up, but you seemed lost in your thoughts,” he said, nodding toward the photograph before us.
I had never seen the man before in my life, yet there was something familiar about him. He was roughly six feet tall with brown hair styled in a youthful faux hawk, green eyes, the obligatory scruff covering his jaw, and a fairly muscular build, from what I could tell. In a word—hot.
“It’s fine,” I replied, waving off his concern.
A dimple appeared with his crooked smile. “So, what do you think?” he asked, pointing to the photo.
“That’s what I was just thinking about—how I would describe this. I’m not sure saying the artist is amazing would suffice.”
He nodded and swiveled his head, peering around the room. I followed his gaze and noticed several frames had red dots on them, indicating someone purchased them. It looked like Ian was having a great night.
“Yeah, he’s definitely talented. I heard he’s an arrogant ass, though.”
The guy had some nerve. I bristled at his comment and decided it was time to get back to Ian. “Actually no, he’s not. Excuse me.”
“Oh. So you’ve met him then?”
I turned back to him. “He’s my boyfriend.”
“Ah, shit. I’m sorry. You know how rumors are…”
“Yes, well, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
Before I could turn away, heat covered my back and my senses buzzed with awareness. Ian.
“Is everything okay, babe? I was beginning to think you disappeared.”
“Sorry.” I blushed. “I was taking the long way back from the ladies’ room. Your work is ... incredible.” I gestured toward my new acquaintance. “Although, I think this gentleman may have a few questions for you.”
“Really?”
The two shared a look as if this entire scenario was a joke only they understood. I stepped away from Ian and faced both men...
And that’s when it hit me.
I was such an idiot.
“You must be Emmy.” The stranger extended his hand. “Finn Walsh. The artist’s brother.”
My cheeks were on fire as I returned his greeting. “Nice to meet you.”
“Ian’s told me a lot about you, but he failed to mention you’re smoking hot.”
His comment didn’t help what was surely a bright red hue covering my face and neck. “Uh, thank you? He’s told me quite a bit about you as well.”
“That could be good or bad.” Finn laughed.
I gazed up at Ian. “It was all good.”
He smiled at me, and then prodded his brother’s shoulder with two fingers. “You can stop hitting on my girl now.”
“As if. She’s not my type.”
I released a nervous giggle that morphed into full-blown laughter. They laughed with me, and then Ian pulled his brother in for the typical ‘man hug.’
“Did you bring Lukas?”
“Nah. Somebody called in sick, so he had to cover.”
“Well, I’m glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it, man. Wouldn’t miss it.”
Ian gave us a guided tour of the exhibit, explaining the inspiration behind each piece. It didn’t take long for our intimate group of three to swell in size, and there were easily a dozen or more guests following him as if he were the Pied Piper. I guess he was, in a way. Everyone wanted to know more about Miles Shaw, the intensely private artist, and they all hung on every word as he discussed his work.
I inched my way to the back of the group, partly to observe his interaction with the small crowd, but also so I could slip away to the ladies’ room again without drawing too much attention to myself. Several more red stickers had appeared since my last trek to the bathroom, which really didn’t surprise me. I was tempted to purchase one myself, but I wasn’t sure I could afford it. Then again, I had unrestricted access to the artist, and that was far more meaningful.
When I returned, Ian wasn’t immediately visible, but Finn looked agitated. As I drew closer, I saw a statuesque blonde in a skintight, blood-red dress that exposed far too much for this type of event. Unease crept up my spine as I watched the scene unfold. The body language between Ian and the blonde indicated they knew each other, but it appeared he was engaged in the conversation out of politeness rather than any real interest. The blonde stepped closer, pushing her voluptuous chest into his, her lips thrusting into a pout. Ian’s discomfort was palpable even at a distance, and he stepped away before she could wrap her arms around him. Not deterred, she moved closer still and smoothed her hands up his chest and over his lapels. The entire act made her seem pathetic. A dark look crossed Ian’s face as he grasped her shoulders and pushed her away.
Who was she? More importantly, who was she to him? Jealousy and insecurity reared their ugly heads, and I took several deep breaths to calm my racing heart. I pushed the darkness away and forced myself into action. I’d deal with the questions later. It was my turn to rescue my boyfriend.
Finn noticed me first and took a few steps back, giving me room to take my place beside Ian. I slid an arm around his waist and stretched to kiss him on the corner of his mouth.
“Hey, babe. Is everything okay?”
The look on the blonde’s face was priceless, as was Finn’s amused snicker. Exhaling with relief, Ian gave me a grateful smile before pressing his lips to mine in a lingering kiss.
“Hey, Beautiful. This is Blaire Fraser. She owns Release.” He looked at Blaire. “Blaire, this is Emmy, my girlfriend.”
Ah-ha. So she was the woman who called him the night I went to his place for dinner. I felt an immediate dislike for her, due in large part to the hungry looks she was sending toward Ian. I didn’t want to make a scene, but I had an overwhelming desire to punch her in the face. Jules’ influence, no doubt.
Blaire forced a tight smile and extended her hand. “Hello, Emily. It’s nice to meet you.”
My hand closed around hers, and the tips of her blood red nails pressed into my skin as a subtle challenge. I gave her my best saccharin smile.
“How do you do? My name is Em-MY, not Em-ILY.”
Blaire rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Ian. “So, you still plan to be at the club next Thursday? I won’t be there, but I trust you can handle it by yourself.”
“Yes. I also meant what I said. You need to find a replacement.”
Her lips parted in a malicious grin. “Oh, I don’t know. Once a girl has had the best, no one else will do.” Pausing for effect, she let her gaze drift toward mine. “Believe me.”
I stiffened at the subtle implication, and it was all I could do to keep from clawing the bitch’s eyes out. By some miracle, I managed to keep my breathing even, but inside I was dying. The arm resting at Ian’s waist tensed, and his arm tightened around me in return, pulling me even closer.
“Have a good evening, Blaire. I hope you enjoy the exhibit.” His voice was calm, yet pure ice. It was obvious he wanted to say more, but instead, he excused us from the group and ushered me to a quiet corner.
“Who the hell was that?” Finn demand
ed, following close behind.
Ian gave him an exasperated look. “She owns the fetish club I occasionally shoot at.” He turned his attention back to me. “Babe? Are you okay?”
I nodded but remained mute, angry at myself for allowing that initial stab of jealousy to fuel my imagination. I needed to get my shit together before Ian decided I was more trouble than I was worth.
A gallery docent approached us before I had the chance to say anything. “Mr. Shaw?” Her voice was timid at first as she quickly assessed the three of us but steadily grew more confident. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but could I borrow you for a few moments? A client has questions about your silhouette series.”
“Of course.” Ian turned to Finn. “Would you keep Emmy company for a few minutes? I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Finn waited until Ian walked away before folding his warm fingers around my elbow, a gesture I found oddly comforting. Looking up, I saw the same warmth in his smile.
“I was there the entire time, and he didn’t initiate anything with her. In fact, he looked surprised to see her.”
I nodded again and tried to rein in my emotions. In my heart I believed him but I was having a hard time reconciling my past and present.
“I’m not sure if this will help, but my brother is in love with you. He just may not realize it yet.”
His comment jolted me from my stupor. “What makes you say that?”
“I know my brother.” He smirked.
Ian returned before I could ask more questions. His eyes moved back and forth between me and Finn. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I waved in the general direction of the ladies’ room. “I just need a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Ian reached for me as I stepped past him, gliding his hand down my arm until he reached my fingers. It was a simple gesture, one that was intended as a reminder that he was with me, that he wanted me. Shame washed over me, followed by a momentary pang of revulsion with myself for making him feel I needed that level of reassurance. I had thought Blaire’s actions were pathetic but were mine any better?