Holy smokes. He was, in short, quite simply the most attractive man I'd ever laid eyes on. A strange shiver ran through my body, spreading from my head right down to my toes.
When Ryan finally looked up, his eyes met mine, and his whole body froze. The stiffness ran from his feet, right the way to the top of his head, as if someone had suddenly shoved a giant popsicle stick up his ass, forcing him upright. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.
I stood, my heart pounding, "Alex Kline," I said, outstretching my hand toward him, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm from the Halt Institute. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Raynard. I'm a huge fan of your work—"
Ryan Raynard stared at my hand hanging there in the space between us, with a look of such utter horror I had to turn it over to ensure it wasn't covered in grease or something.
"You… you're a woman?" he whispered, his eyes boring into mine. The muscles in his face twitched, and I could see the veins in his neck standing out. Something was really wrong here.
"Last time I checked." My hand still hung awkwardly in the air. Ryan tore his gaze from mine, physically wrenching his body away from me. He backed away toward the door, his handsome face shot now with panic.
"Simon!" he yelled into the hall. "Come here, now!"
The butler rushed into the room, a tea tray clattering in his shaking arms. "Sir?"
Raynard was inching toward the door, his hard eyes glaring at me like I was a bug he wished to be squashed immediately. "Why did you let this… this…woman into my home? You know I don’t want to be disturbed."
"You told me I could let her in, not five minutes ago, Mr Raynard. She needs your paintings for the exhibition.”
“You told me her name was James!”
“That’s what she told me, sir—"
Ryan Raynard whirled around and faced me, his eyes burning. "You said your name was James."
I bristled, a sure-fire sign I was about to say something inappropriate. But he was acting like a jerk, so I allowed my voice to drip with scorn. "Forgive me; I didn't know my birth name had to be approved by the great Ryan Raynard. I was named after an ancestor on my mother's side, James Fauntelroy. Apparently, he used to help women accused of witchcraft in the village escape before they were trialled—"
"While I'm really enjoying this fascinating history lesson," Ryan faced into the hall so he didn't have to look at me. "You need to leave."
I shook my head, a stupid gesture, since he couldn’t see me. "I can't leave until we've cleared up a few details for your exhibition. Where are the paintings? I know you've never done an exhibition before, so maybe all this organising is new to you, but if you want this one to go well, you need to co-operate with me. If I don't get those paintings to Halt tomorrow, the exhibition can't go ahead."
His shoulders sagged. I observed the movement with interest. It seemed the exhibition meant more to him than his attitude had led me to believe. "Simon, show Mrs Kline—"
"Ms Kline," I corrected him, cursing myself inwardly as I felt a blush appear on my cheeks. Luckily, Ryan was still avoiding my eyes, so he didn't see.
"—to the painting hall. Answer all her questions. If you want me, I'll be in the studio, but don’t bring her in there. Please deal with Ms Kline on all aspects concerning the exhibition, and make sure she understands that even though my paintings will be available to the public for the first time, I will not. Don't let anyone else in."
Without even another glance in my direction, Ryan Raynard slipped back into the hall and disappeared. The clomp of his boots faded away into silence.
Simon inclined his head toward me, indicating I should follow him. Picking myself up, I followed the butler out of the cold drawing room and back down that drab hall, through another dark, gloomy sitting room, and along a narrow corridor.
My whole body buzzed with a strange energy. It must’ve been the surge of righteous anger. How dare he treat me like… like I wasn’t even a person, like I didn’t even deserve his eye contact? No wonder he hides from the world, if he doesn’t even have the decency to act pleasantly to those helping him. I can’t believe that’s the same guy who created all that beautiful art.
“Is he always so… abrasive?” I asked Simon, by way of making conversation. “How do you stand it?”
“Mr Raynard has his proclivities,” the butler replied, his drawn face indicating he thought he might have said too much.
“And what’s his problem with women? This isn’t the bloody stone age. Does he think the art world is only for straight, white, rich men like himself?”
The butler didn’t reply.
We walked on in silence through the dark, drab hallway, Ryan’s ancestors staring disapprovingly down on me. All the while I replayed the meeting with Ryan Raynard over in my mind – his handsome face hardening to stone when he realised I was female, his body going rigid like a statue, his aversion even to meet my eyes. The way he swaggered in, those gorgeous curls flopping in his eyes, his shoulders bulging from that black vest…
I shook my head. Hot artistic visionary or not, the man was a complete tosser. It wouldn't do for me to dwell on his looks.
We stopped in front of a heavy steel door – at odds with the drab wood panelling that surrounded it. Simon hunched over the lock, keying in a complex combination. The door clicked open, and I was greeted with a sight that took my breath away.
A long, white room stretched in front of me, the other end a distant blur on the horizon. Rectangular skylights flooded the space in natural light, and after the gloom of the house, the light, airy space made me feel giddy, almost drunk. Simon flicked a switch, and rows of low-hanging spotlights flickered on, illuminating the artwork hanging on the walls. Every spare space on the walls was taken up with paintings – a hodgepodge of different styles and eras, all chosen with the keen eye of someone who understood colour and light and beauty. I noticed what looked like a Banksy print to the left of the door, butted up next to a Chagall. I turned, dizzy with the splendour of it all, and came face to face with some of Monet's water lilies, the beauty of the lines leaping from the canvas, pulling me into the gardens of Giverny, filling my nostrils with the scent of spring. I turned again, and this time my eye fell upon a Cézanne still life, the repetitive, exploratory brushstrokes creating a dramatic tension between the objects.
Nestled amongst these great words were pieces I recognised as belonging to the hand of Raynard himself. Impressionistic views of forests – great oaks with branches twisting, birds flying in lazy circles over a foggy grove, deer drinking from the brook. A beautiful red fox frolicking between the trees. I stepped closer, admiring the dappled light streaming from the gaps in the leaves, touching the fox's fur.
I glanced at the title. Vixen.
"Why isn't this painting in the exhibition?" I breathed. The title wasn’t on the list Simon had given me. Ryan's exhibition was called The Hunt, and his images, we'd been informed, took inspiration from the animals in Crookshollow Forest as they went about their nocturnal wanderings. This remarkable piece should have been the focal point of the room.
Simon shook his head. "He will not part with that one for anything," he said. "And don't you even ask. Come, I have packaged up the ten pieces for the exhibition. Three of them are quite large, and I shall help you carry them to your car."
TO BE CONTINUED
He’s an arrogant, reclusive artist, and a complete and utter prick. So why can’t she get him out of her head? Fall into Ryan and Alex’s story in Art of Cunning, book 1 in the Crookshollow Gothic Romance series, free from your favorite store - READ NOW
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Haven’t read the Wolves of Crookshollow series yet?
Sink your teeth into the hot werewolf paranormal romance from USA Today bestselling author, Steffanie Holmes.
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Anna
It’s been five months since my boyfriend was tragically killed in a climbing accid
ent. I didn’t think I was over him … until Luke walked on to the archaeological site.
Tall, dark, sexy, tattooed, funny, dangerous. Everything I want in a man.
But he’s hiding something. He acts strangely in the moonlight. He won’t tell me anything about his life. And I caught him trying to destroy an important find.
My body aches for him, but my heart tells me I’m not ready to make myself vulnerable again, especially not for a guy who isn’t being straight with me.
If only ...
Luke
Anna Sinclair – archaeologist, geek girl, totally and utterly delectable.
I knew from the moment her intoxicating scent wafted across my wolf senses, she's meant to be mine.
And that knowledge is terrifying.
The last thing I expected was to find my fated mate on an archaeological site. Whenever I’m near her, all I want to do is claim her.
But she’s broken. The last thing she needs in her life is a werewolf out for revenge. I’m here to destroy the site, to keep my family’s past buried forever.
If Anna finds out the truth, she’d never speak to me again.
But I can’t deny the bond between us. I’ll do anything to make her mine.
Digging the Wolf is a standalone paranormal romance by USA Today bestselling author Steffanie Holmes. Read if you love archaeological mysteries, badass wolves, a broken heroine, and a hero so hot he’ll have you howling for more.
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Other Books By Steffanie Holmes
This list is in recommended reading order, although each couple’s story can be enjoyed as a standalone.
Briarwood Reverse Harem series
The Castle of Earth and Embers – READ NOW
The Castle of Fire and Fable – READ NOW
The Castle of Water and Woe – READ NOW
The Castle of Wind and Whispers – READ NOW
The Castle of Spirit and Sorrow – READ NOW
Crookshollow Gothic Romance series
Art of Cunning (Alex & Ryan) - READ NOW FOR FREE
Art of the Hunt (Alex & Ryan) - READ NOW
Art of Temptation (Alex & Ryan) - READ NOW
The Man in Black (Elinor & Eric) - READ NOW
Watcher (Belinda & Cole) - READ NOW
Reaper (Belinda & Cole) - READ NOW
Wolves of Crookshollow series
Digging the Wolf (Anna & Luke) - READ NOW
Writing the Wolf (Rosa & Caleb) - READ NOW
Inking the Wolf (Bianca & Robbie) - READ NOW
Wedding the Wolf (Willow & Irvine) - READ NOW
Fallen Sorcery Fae (shared world)
Hollow - READ NOW
Witches of the Woods
Witch Hunter - READ NOW
Coven - READ NOW
The Curse (coming in 2018)
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About the Author
Steffanie Holmes is the author of steamy historical and paranormal romance. Her books feature clever, witty heroines, wild shifters, cunning witches and alpha males who always get what they want.
Before becoming a writer, Steffanie worked as an archaeologist and museum curator. She loves to explore historical settings and ancient conceptions of love and possession. From Dark Age Europe to crumbling gothic estates, Steffanie is fascinated with how love can blossom between the most unlikely characters. She also writes dark fantasy / science fiction under S. C. Green.
Steffanie lives in New Zealand with her husband and a horde of cantankerous cats.
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