by J. J. Sorel
“I don’t think I can make it,” she said.
“What are you doing now that’s so important?”
“I’m just here having a drink.”
“Are you still in pain?” I asked.
“I’m a little better.”
Standing in the corner of the gallery, away from the din, I was about to answer her when I noticed two tall men enter. Wearing sports jackets and jeans that fitted in a way that only expensive jeans could, they screamed of wealth.
Capable of smelling money a mile off, Marius ran straight to them.
I studied them a little closer, noticing that they were hot, particularly the dark-haired man, whose jacket, by the way it was molded to his big shoulders, looked sewn on.
My breath hitched. “Holy crap.”
“What?” asked Lilly.
“You’re not going to believe this, but guess who’s just walked through the door?”
“Who?”
“Those guys from the other night. Remember, the one who you liked and his tall dark-haired friend?”
Mr. Dark and Mysterious found my eyes and held on. I gripped my cell, and my breath stuttered. How could a gaze from a good-looking stranger do that to me?
“Really?” Lilly’s voice brightened.
“Jump into a cab, and get here now. The dark gorgeous one keeps looking at me. I’m nearly losing the plot. I need you here. Please.”
When she didn’t respond, I asked, “Are you there?”
“All right.” She exhaled. “Text me the details.”
“I gave them to you earlier. Remember that leaflet?”
“I don’t know where it is. I was a bit drunk at the time. I’ve already had a few tonight.”
“Then get here before the next drink. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll hold your hand. You’ll open your salon. I’ll help.”
“Thanks.” She sniffled. “It’s Brent’s night off, and he’s asking questions.”
“You can’t tell him. He’ll go crazy.”
“How am I going to explain the money?”
“You won it on a scratchy,” I suggested. “It’s buzzing here. You’ll enjoy yourself.”
“I should get out. At least that way, Brent won’t see me moping about. See you soon, babes,” she said, sounding jollier than before, much to my relief.
I closed the call, and Sheldon joined me with two glasses of champagne. “Here, lovey.”
“Thanks.” My eyes headed over to the handsome stranger who kept looking at me and making my heart race.
“Have you seen those tall hunks?” asked Sheldon.
“Sure have,” I said, forcing myself to look away.
“They’re a bit too good-looking for me. But great bodies, especially Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hetero.”
I laughed and let Sheldon take my arm. We ambled about with our noses in the air, playing our silly but fun game.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed the sexy stranger staring. I even sensed his attention when I wasn’t looking. When I turned, his eyes were on mine, leaving a smoldering afterburn.
We stood behind a group of people studying my paintings.
“That’s so wild… I love it. But I don’t think I could live with it,” one of the women said.
Sheldon squeezed my hand in support. He gave me a quick glance and shook his head as though to say, “Don’t listen to them.” He turned his attention to the door. “Oh, he came.”
“Who?”
“Drew. And he’s wearing Louboutins. Hell.”
“It’s all the rage, Shelly. Guys are dying to experience the crippling pain of fashion. It’s no longer a chick thing.” I grinned.
“I suppose,” he conceded, sounding flat.
“You’re just pining for your butch cop.”
“I am. Oh God. Here he comes—or should say, here it comes. I’m not allowed to refer to him as a he.”
“Then refer to Drew as a she,” I said.
His mouth tipped down at one side. “Mm… I suppose we can be friends. Drew’s so nice and supportive. I just wish she wasn’t so into me.”
I squeezed Sheldon’s hand, as Drew joined us.
Sheldon’s new lover’s face was masculine in that angular-jawline way, even though his voice was soft and his wrist dangled. “Hello. Nice to meet you.” He kissed me on the cheek before hugging Sheldon. “This looks amazing.” He gestured to the art.
I stood there by their side and listened to Drew ooh and aah over the art while helping myself to cheese and wine.
Thirty minutes later, Lilly walked through the door.
The gallery space, the size of an average shop, had filled to capacity. I couldn’t believe the turn out. Although I’d promised my triptych to Shelly earlier, given that he’d paid for the paints, I couldn’t get that woman’s passing comment out of my mind. Sadly, criticism lingered longer than compliments.
I headed over to Lilly and hugged her. “Hey, that was quick.”
“I got a cab straightaway.” Her eyes moved around the room and then lit up. I turned and saw that the sexy stranger’s friend had noticed her. He looked surprised.
“I need a drink,” she said.
I took her by the hand. “Come on, I’ll get you one.”
7
* * *
BLAKE
MAGIC. IT WAS PURE magic seeing her there.
Although her outfit looked very Oxfam, she wore it well. The fitted skirt revealed her swaying hips, and a loose red shirt did little to hide the fullness of her breasts. Her long, dark, plaited hair revealed a swan neck that made my tongue salivate. I watched how her breasts moved ever so slightly with her breath. Despite the fact that she boasted curves that would keep a man up at night, I found it hard to leave her eyes.
I sensed that, having recognized me, she tried to ignore me, despite her furtive glances.
Why is she here? Perhaps she was a friend of the artist. She stood close to a guy whose body language didn’t seem like that of a boyfriend.
“She’s here! The girl who’s been turning me upside down all week. I’m going to speak to her,” said James. “I feel like I know her.” He raised a brow.
I hadn’t seen James that distracted over a girl before, and that was saying something, because along with cars, fine wine, and art, women were James’s obsession.
Marius, the gallery owner, joined us. “Ah… Mr. Sinclair. So glad you made it.” He shook my hand. “Most of the oils are by Sheldon Sprite, a final-year student at LCCA, except for that enchanting triptych”—he pointed to three panels depicting women in long robes and flowing hair, floating among skyscrapers—“which is by a fellow student, that pretty little thing over there.” He cocked his head subtly at the girl who had my blood running hot.
“Tell me about her,” I said.
“She’s a third-year student. Her work’s pretty out there—not in that Tracey Emin way. There’s only one Tracey.” He chuckled as though it was our personal joke.
Joining in, James said, “There sure is only one Tracey. One wouldn’t quite know where to place that soiled bed installation she’s famous for.”
“Art’s not just about ornament. It’s a public statement—an individual’s take on life,” I said. “The audacity of the work is its appeal, although I prefer Banksy. He makes bold public statements with the skill of a craftsman.”
Marius hung onto every syllable I uttered. I could have described the color of a turd, and he still would have nodded obsequiously. As an avid collector of modern art—most of which hung on the walls of the estates I’d converted—I’d added to his bank balance
“Introduce me,” I said, cocking my head at the beautiful girl.
“Follow me,” he said.
Marius joined the girl who’d raised my temperature. “There’s someone here who’d like to be introduced.” He gestured toward me. “This is Blake Sinclair.” He regarded me. “This is Penelope Green, the creator of that fascinating trio of paintings.” He pointed to the art.
�
��Pleased to meet you. I’m intrigued by your art,” I said. Extracting my eyes from her beautiful face, I regarded her painting. When I noticed her considerable skill as an artist, she won my immediate respect.
“Thanks,” she said, shifting from one leg to another.
“Well, then, leave you to it.” Marius looked at me. “If you have any questions… or are interested in…”
“I want to buy them,” I said.
Penelope looked at me as though I’d admitted to killing someone. I shook my head. “Is that a problem, Ms. Green?”
“Call me Penny, please.” Her face relaxed a little, although her voice seemed tense.
“Have you got another buyer?” I asked.
Marius responded with a decisive “No.”
Sensing that my offer had startled her, I stepped back, giving her space. “Excuse me for a moment.”
I left Marius alone with Penelope. Artists were known to be precious about their work, and she had every right to feel that way. Her talent was on fine display—brilliant in a way I hadn’t experienced at student shows before.
Talent was an aphrodisiac, as the saying went. However, with Penelope Green, the aphrodisiac wasn’t so much her considerable talent but her natural beauty. That was rare in my circle, where beauty was as manicured as everyone’s nails.
Spying the waiter, I headed over and grabbed a glass of champagne. I took a sip and winced. Although it tasted awful, I needed something to ease the sexual tension. I stole another glance at Penelope, who looked over at me and then quickly away again.
I’d lost James. He’d cornered the girl of his dreams and was chatting away, making her giggle.
8
* * *
PENELOPE
I FOUND SHELDON DEEP in conversation with Drew. I tapped him on the shoulder and gave him an apologetic smile. “Can I have a quick word?”
Sheldon followed me to a quiet corner, where a passing waiter happened to be. I pounced on him, nearly making him lose his balance—such was my need for a drink. I passed a glass to Sheldon and then took two for me.
“Shit, you’re hitting it hard, babe,” he said. “Has it something to do with the blue-eyed sex god in that Italian designer jacket?”
I had to laugh. When it came to clothes, Sheldon seemed to have a psychic ability at reading labels. “Uh-huh.” I gulped down some champagne. “I’m sorry to lure you away like this.”
He shook his head. “Why aren’t you hanging out with him? Have you seen those shoulders? He’s looking right now. He’s interested. And he’s dripping in money.”
“He’s also a sleaze.”
His head pushed back. “He doesn’t look like a sleaze. And so what if he is? He’s a fucking sexy sleaze.”
“Remember I told you about that virgin auction house?”
He nodded. “I sure do.”
“He was there.”
“Oh. Really? He was buying?” Sheldon’s surprised glower made me chuckle.
I did wonder why a hot man like Blake Sinclair would need to buy sex. I could imagine plenty of virgins throwing themselves at him just for dinner and a sniff of that expensive cologne, which lingered flirtatiously, playing havoc with my senses.
“Well… let’s put it this way he was stepping in as I was leaving.”
“And so? People buy sex all the time.”
“I hate the idea of anyone I’m with buying sex.”
“You’re jumping the gun, aren’t you? You haven’t even unbuttoned that silk shirt that would pay my monthly art-supply bill.” He looked over my shoulder.
“What?”
“The way he keeps checking you out suggests you could at least run your hands down it. Mm… all the way.”
My tummy tightened, and a little fiery sensation traveled through me. “I want more than that. I want a boyfriend, not a one-night stand, even if he is gorgeous.”
“You’re an idealist, lovey.”
What Sheldon said made sense. And in any case, I had no right to judge Blake Sinclair. I didn’t even know him. But that burning gaze of his kept undressing me in a way that my body craved.
“He wants to buy my three panels. I thought I’d better speak to you first, because I promised them to you.”
“That’s sweet of you, but if he’s offering your price, you should take it.”
I was about to respond when Marius joined us. We both turned our attention to him.
“Penelope, Blake Sinclair’s offering a hundred thousand pounds.” Although he tried to remain cool, his words bubbled over with excitement.
My mouth dropped opened. I looked at Sheldon, who was equally shocked.
“Holy crap. Take it,” Sheldon insisted. “Don’t worry about me. I’m sure you can create something that will be just as good.”
Marius nodded in agreement. “Blake needs an answer. He also requested that you meet with him. He’s interested in getting to know you and your art. Privately.” His eyebrow lift spoke volumes.
Is it just art he wishes to buy?
I gaped at Marius as though he’d asked me to perform a lewd act in front of a crowd.
What does that amount of cash even look like? The thought of a studio, where I could live and paint, shook me back to reality. “Um… sure.”
Marius released a tight chuckle. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to refuse. You gave out a cold vibe, Penelope. I mean, if you want to survive in the art business, you have to smile when meeting a wealthy client. And Blake Sinclair’s in the Forbes top one hundred.”
Sheldon whistled. “That rich.” He stared at me as if to say, “What are you waiting for?”
I kissed Sheldon on the cheek.
Marius waited impatiently, his attention switching from me to Blake, who looked serious and disinterested, ignoring the attention his powerful, handsome presence attracted.
“Lead the way,” I said.
Blake Sinclair had his back to us, which made it easier for me. I could barely stand, let alone walk with his blue eyes smoldering all over me.
My heart pumped fast. What can I say? “You’re a sleazy, virgin-buying creep, but I’ll take your money anyway?”
He turned, and his beautiful face softened at seeing me. I let out a deep breath in a bid to relax my throat. By my side, Marius was all smiles. I thought he was going to kiss me. Blake Sinclair’s generous offer would deliver the hardworking curator a nice chunk of commission.
Taking his cue from my new benefactor, Marius left us alone.
My fingernails dug into my damp palm. I couldn’t look at him, because my eyes wanted to drown in those aquamarine eyes that kept changing from light to dark. Although he wore unaffected confidence as well as he wore his Italian jacket, I sensed a complex man.
“You’ll sell?” His deep voice resonated through my ribs.
I nodded. “I’d be crazy not to.”
He studied me for a moment, and his lips tipped up at one end, which was about as cheery as I’d seen him so far. “You’re reluctant to sell?”
I shook my head. “It’s not that.”
He waited for more, but I’d lost my ability to think. He gave me space, which I appreciated.
After I’d failed to elaborate, he asked, “How about if we leave here? Have you had dinner?”
“You’re asking me out?” I hated how shrill my voice sounded.
“It’s a bit noisy in here. And the champagne is a little off. I’d love a real drink, and I’m fascinated by your work. Your talent. That’s all. Nothing too serious.” He tilted his head and smiled for the first time.
A dimple in his cheek weakened my resolve, even though a voice within reminded me that he bought desperate girls for sex.
I glanced over my shoulder, looking for Lilly, and found her leaning up against a wall, wearing an unshifting smile and engrossed in whatever her Prince Charming uttered.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “Okay. I could eat something. I’ve been busy all day and haven’t had much time.” I bit my lip. �
�Um… should we say something to Marius?”
He lifted his large hand. A sapphire ring stole my breath. The blue stone accented his eyes, and I fell into a trance. As a painter obsessed in color, I tried not to drool over its beauty.
He smiled gently. I couldn’t believe he was the same man. His face had changed completely. I wasn’t sure which I preferred—the brooding, inscrutable version or the charming, sensitive one. Both.
“I’ll quickly have a word with Marius. Don’t go anywhere,” he said.
“I won’t.” My smile quivered.
For some reason, I thought about my dull underwear. Why that came into my fraught mind, I couldn’t tell. Maybe it was because after he passed me his scent lingered and traveled into my nostrils and all the way down to my crotch, which throbbed against my very unsexy cotton panties.
I watched him move through the crowd. Now that he wasn’t so close and robbing me of air, my senses returned. Firstly, I had to tell Lilly. Considering her tipsy state, I needed to know that she was okay, even if I would have preferred a quiet exit.
I looked over at Sheldon, who was chatting to an older couple, pointing up at his work.
I waited until Blake returned, and as he walked toward me, my legs weakened, and my heart sped up again. I didn’t know how the hell I could eat, especially with his eyes plowing into mine and those sensual lips, which his tongue had a habit of brushing, ravaging my faculties.
Wearing a faint, almost uncertain smile, he returned to my side.
“I need to see that my friend Lilly is okay. Do you mind waiting?” I asked.
“Of course not.”
I paused. “Can your friend be trusted?”
His brow gathered as he studied me. “If you’re asking if he’ll try to seduce your friend, then he probably will.”
“She’s a bit fragile, that’s all. What I meant to ask is…”
“Is he a womanizer?” He tilted his head.
I nodded.
“James likes his girls. He’s not really the marrying kind, by his own admission.” He stared at me. “Didn’t I see you both the other night?”