Walking over to the panel on the wall, she pressed the talk button. “Yes?”
“It’s Ivan.”
Her knees buckled slightly before she recovered. He was early. Too early. She’d told him to pick her up downstairs at eight-thirty. Knowing she couldn’t leave him waiting until she finished getting dressed, she pressed the button, disengaging the door that led to the street.
Nayo managed to put away her bathrobe and slippers before she heard the soft knock on her door. Glancing around, she took a deep breath. Ivan Campbell would be the first man, aside from her brother and father, to cross her threshold.
A polite smile was in place when she opened the door. She took another breath. Ivan was so breathtakingly virile dressed completely in black that she was momentarily stunned. A V-neck sweater displayed his brown throat, and his cashmere jacket with its European cut was draped over his broad shoulders before tapering slightly at the waist. She recognized the fabric of his slacks as flannel.
Nayo opened the door wider. “Please come in. I’ll be ready as soon as I finish with my makeup.”
Ivan couldn’t pull his gaze away from Nayo’s face and body. The dress clung to every curve of her body. Nayo Goddard was sexy personified in one neat little package. His gaze moved down to her legs and feet. How had he forgotten those legs?
“I’m here early because my driver showed up earlier than I’d expected.”
“You hired a driver?”
Ivan smiled. “Yes. I own a car, but I rarely drive in the city because I can never find parking.”
“We could have taken a cab.”
His gaze caressed her flawless face. “I don’t take taxis.” The one time he’d tried to, he’d stood in the rain watching taxi after taxi pass him by because he was standing on the uptown side of the street. Angry and exasperated after twenty minutes, he took the subway back to Harlem. That was three years ago, and his vow not to take another New York City taxi was still in effect.
“You always use a car service to get around the city?”
“Most of the time I do. But that doesn’t mean I won’t hop on a bus or take the subway if I’m going a short distance.”
“Come talk to me while I put on makeup.” Turning, she walked to the bathroom, Ivan following.
His gaze lingered on the four-poster bed draped in embroidered mosquito netting. “I like your apartment.”
“Thank you. When my brother came for a visit with his son, my nephew wanted to know why I sleep in the same space as my kitchen. Even after I explained to him that this is what is called a studio apartment, he still couldn’t understand that if the bathroom had a door, why couldn’t the kitchen.”
Leaning against the door frame, Ivan watched Nayo apply makeup so subtly it appeared she was wearing nothing. Brushes and tiny pots of color accentuated her eyes, cheeks and lips. She ran a wide-tooth comb through her hair, adding height and volume. He straightened when she washed, then dried her hands. The sensual scent of her perfume wafted to his nostrils as she came closer.
Nayo tried getting around Ivan, but there wasn’t enough room—he blocked the doorway. “Ivan.”
Not moving, he stared at her under hooded lids. “Yes, Nayo?”
“You’re going to have to move.”
“What if I don’t want to move?”
She closed her eyes. “Then we won’t go to the party.”
“Is that such a bad thing, doll face?” Her eyes opened. “We could spend the night here.”
“No, Ivan. We will not spend the night here. Either we leave and go to the party or I’m going without you.”
“You’d leave me here alone?”
“Yes, I would. You can lounge on the bed, watch television or raid the refrigerator. The choice is yours.”
The seconds ticked by as they stared at each other. “I choose to go to the party with you,” Ivan said after an interminable pause.
“That’s what I thought.”
“You don’t have to sound so smug.”
Nayo winked at Ivan as he stepped aside. She went to the closet and took out a black, three-quarter-length mohair coat. Ivan was beside her, taking the coat. He held it as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. Gathering her keys and a tiny leather purse with a shoulder strap, she turned off the track lights, leaving on a floor lamp.
She locked the door and Ivan took the keys from her hand. “I’ll hold on to them.”
He descended the staircase, Nayo following closely behind. His arm went around her waist when they stepped onto the sidewalk. “The driver is parked around the corner on Madison.”
Robert was out of the car and waiting as they approached. He opened the rear door. “Good evening, miss.”
Nayo gave him a warm smile. “Good evening to you, too.”
She slipped onto the leather seat, moving over as Ivan got in beside her. In a moment of madness she’d tried imagining herself married to Ivan Campbell. Why, she chided herself, was she indulging in flights of fantasy? For that was exactly what it was—pure fantasy. Leaning against his shoulder, she sank into the comfort of his warmth and strength. She closed her eyes when he pressed his face against her hair.
“You smell good enough to eat,” Ivan whispered.
A shiver raced through Nayo’s body. How did he know she was thinking the same thoughts? From the moment she first saw him, she knew there was something very different about the man in whose arms she now lay, and it had nothing to do with his face.
It was the man, one she’d found herself fantasizing about when she least expected. Unknowingly Dr. Ivan Campbell had become her fantasy man.
CHAPTER 7
Brooke Simons had spared no expense for the Halloween party in her loft. Someone was on hand to check coats, and a waitstaff circulated among the guests offering hot and cold hors d’oeuvres. A bar, set up against a wall, was doing a brisk business, while a DJ played nonstop music that had most up on their feet dancing. Only a few partygoers had chosen to come in costume.
Nayo, her arm wrapped around Ivan’s waist, introduced him to their hostess. “Brooke, this is my good friend Ivan Campbell. Ivan, this is Brooke Simons.”
Brooke’s large dark eyes widened appreciably when she smiled at Ivan. She offered her hand. “My pleasure, Ivan.”
He took her hand, returning her smile. “The pleasure is mine. Your loft is spectacular.”
“Thank you. Please circulate and make certain you get something to eat and drink.”
Nayo had to agree with Ivan. Brooke had dimmed the recessed lights in the expansive space, and hundreds of flickering votives and tea lights twinkled like stars. A dozen, small round tables, each with seating for four, were set up at the far end of the room.
She spied Geoff as he walked with a beautiful young Asian woman clinging possessively to his arm. When she’d asked him who he was bringing to the party, he told her he hadn’t decided.
Geoffrey Magnus was a good catch for the woman who could get him to stand still long enough to propose marriage. His striking good looks, intelligence and family lineage made him one of the city’s most eligible bachelors.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Ivan asked quietly.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
Nayo smiled at Geoff as he approached, then offered her cheek for his kiss. “How are you?”
His gray eyes softened with an unknown emotion. “Wonderful, now that I’ve seen you.”
A slight frown marred her smooth forehead. Geoff had come to the party with another woman, yet he was coming on to her. She extended her hand to the tall, waif-thin woman with the dark, smoky eye makeup and curtain of straight black hair ending at her waist. “I’m Nayo.”
“Michiko,” came her throaty reply. “You’re the photographer.”
“Yes.”
Michiko smiled up at Geoff. “Geoffrey showed me some of your work and I told him I want you to take ph
otos of me for my portfolio.”
“You’re a model.”
Michiko nodded. “Yes. I was told by the booker at an agency that she could book me for a few jobs, but I need a more professional portfolio.”
“You want me to do your portfolio.” The question came out like a statement.
“Yes.”
Nayo gave Geoff a sidelong glance. He winked at her. “Geoffrey has my business card. Call me and we’ll talk.”
“Money is not an issue. I’ll pay you whatever you charge.”
Nayo wanted to tell the woman photography wasn’t only about money. It was satisfaction for the one being photographed and the photographer. Her expression changed when she saw Ivan closing the distance between them, holding a glass with a dark brown liquid in each hand.
Ivan nodded to the tall, blond man and the tall, thin woman talking to Nayo. He handed her one of the glasses. “Here’s your drink.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It looks like a cola.”
Ivan smiled. “But it tastes like a black dog.”
“What’s in a black dog?”
“Bourbon, dry vermouth and blackberry brandy,” Geoff stated confidently as he exchanged a high five with Ivan.
He’d told Nayo he’d become a professional “mixologist,” not because he needed to earn money, but to meet women. Those meeting him for the first time did not link him to the celebrated family who bought, sold, collected and loaned art to major museums throughout the country. She’d allowed him exactly sixty seconds to wallow in self-pity, then called him a poor little rich boy and told him to get over it.
“Ivan Campbell,” Ivan said, introducing himself. “I like a man who knows his cocktails.”
“Geoff Magnus, closet mixologist. And this lovely lady is Michiko.”
Michiko wiggled her fingers at Ivan. “Hi.”
Nayo did a double take, wondering if she was looking at the same woman. Michiko’s contralto had gone up an octave as she licked her lips and batted her lashes at Ivan.
“Excuse me, but Ivan and I are going to get something to eat.” Looping her arm through his, Nayo steered Ivan away from the couple.
“What was that all about?” he asked when they were far enough away for Geoff and his date not to overhear them.
“The nerve of that heifer!”
“Who’s a heifer?”
“Hi-eee,” Nayo said, mimicking the wannabe model.
A knowing smile tilted the corners of Ivan’s firm mouth. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”
“Hell, yeah, I’m jealous, Ivan. The woman’s normal voice is almost as deep as yours.”
“That’s because we have the same anatomical plumbing. Close your mouth, darling.” Her jaw had dropped open.
“No!” Nayo gasped.
Moving closer, he angled his head and brushed a kiss over her mouth. “Yes. And I’m flattered that you’re jealous.”
Going on tiptoe, Nayo pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “That’s because I like you.”
Ivan touched his glass to hers. “I’ll drink to that.” Putting the glass to his mouth, he took a deep swallow. “Nice.”
Nayo took a tentative sip, finding the drink much stronger than she was used to. “I think you’re trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me.”
Ivan’s expression changed like quicksilver. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
She also sobered. “What do you want?”
He leaned closer. “I want to make love to you.”
Nayo closed her eyes. How, she wondered, did he know what she wanted, had unconsciously wanted from the moment she saw him at the gallery? It’d begun when he’d shaken her hand and she’d felt a burning awareness, shattering her resolve not to become involved with a man.
When she opened her eyes, it was to Ivan gazing at her with a tender expression she’d never seen before. She had met him exactly one week ago, yet it felt as if she’d known him as long as she had Geoff. With Ivan she could be herself. There was no need to weigh every word that came to mind in the hope he wouldn’t be offended.
A hint of a smile parted her lips. “I know.”
“You know?”
Ivan wondered if he’d been that transparent or if he’d sent signals so strong that Nayo knew exactly what he wanted. He hadn’t said that he wanted to sleep with her but make love to her. And for him there was a distinct difference.
Sleeping together wasn’t anything more than sexual desire and gratification.
Making love translated into an emotional involvement, something that was so new to him that he was frightened. He’d thought himself in love only once in his life and it had ended badly—at least for him.
It’d taken years after losing his twin to learn to trust, to love, and his fear of loving and losing was never more apparent than when he admitted to a woman that he was falling in love with her. Even if he lived to be a hundred, Ivan would never forget the look on her face. She’d stared at him as if she’d never seen him before. After what seemed like an eon, though it was only seconds, she threw back her head and laughed in his face, telling him he was delusional. Just because she’d allowed him to sleep with her, she said, there was no need to get maudlin. Years later he’d run into her again, and she’d apologized. She’d admitted that her stepfather had sexually abused her as a child, and the trauma had left her emotionally dead. She didn’t hate men, but she couldn’t trust them.
For Ivan the apology had come too late. Her rejection had forced him to put up a shield to keep women at a distance. He enjoyed their company, but wouldn’t permit himself to get in too deep.
Nayo took a step, pressing her chest to Ivan’s. “I know, because I’ve been fantasizing about sleeping with you.”
A wry smile twisted his mouth. She’d said sleep, not make love. “Let me know when you want to sleep together and I’ll make it happen.”
Nayo recoiled as if he’d slapped her. “Did I say something wrong, Ivan?”
“No, you didn’t. You said exactly what you wanted to say.”
Her temper flared. “Why the attitude, Ivan?”
“I don’t have an attitude, Nayo.”
“Yes, you—” A hand on her upper arm stopped her from saying whatever it was she wanted to say to Ivan. Turning, she found Geoff smiling at her. Nayo didn’t have time to react when he pried her drink from her hand.
“Ivan, will you please hold Nayo’s drink. This is our favorite song.”
She didn’t have a chance to respond before Geoff led her to a raised platform that doubled as a dance floor. “What are you doing?” she hissed as he pulled her close. She tried putting some space between their bodies, but Geoff tightened his grip around her waist.
“I’m dancing with my best friend to our favorite song,” he murmured into her hair.
It took a few seconds for Nayo to recognize the Deborah Cox hit “Did You Ever Love Me?”
“It’s your favorite song, Geoff.”
Easing back, Geoff stared down at Nayo’s upturned face. “You look incredibly beautiful tonight,” he said for her ears only.
Nayo didn’t know why, but she felt like crying. She loved Geoff but not the way a woman loved a man. She loved his giving spirit, generosity and his willingness to support her in every endeavor.
He’d put her up while she’d gone apartment hunting, refusing to take any money from her. He’d told her if she ever needed money, he would give her whatever she needed. Thankfully she hadn’t had to go to him for anything. Four years of traveling across the country had taught her how to budget her funds.
“Shame on you, Geoffrey Magnus. You’re here flirting with me when you should be dancing with Michiko.”
His gray eyes darkened like angry storm clouds. “You know Michiko isn’t who she appears to be.”
“I didn’t know that until Ivan pointed it out to me.”
Geoff spun Nayo around and around in an intricate quick step. “Didn’t I see Ivan at your showing?”
&n
bsp; “Yes, you did.”
“Do the two of you have something going?”
“We’re friends, Geoff.”
“The way he looks at you says he wants to be more than a friend.”
“Like you?” she countered.
A beat passed. “Yes, Nayo, like me. I’ve never lied to you about my feelings. I’d marry you tomorrow if you’d say yes.”
“I’m not going to marry you or any other man for a long time.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not where I want to be in my career.”
“If you marry me, you wouldn’t have to worry about your career, Nayo.”
“If I marry you, I wouldn’t have a career.”
His brow furrowed. “Why would you say something like that?”
“Instead of being Nayo, I’d become Mrs. Geoffrey Magnus. No critic would ever take my work seriously because of the clout your family’s name wields in the art world.”
“That would never happen,” he argued quietly.
“You’re so isolated in your privileged world that you can’t see beyond the zeros on your bank statement.”
A flush began at Geoff’s neck, creeping up his face to his hairline. “That’s cruel, Nayo.”
“It’s true, Geoff. Do you think I could’ve pulled all the people who came to the showing if it hadn’t been held at your gallery? No,” she said, answering her own question. “Whenever Magnus Galleries opens their doors to showcase a new artist, everybody who’s somebody in the art world shows up. Are they curious? Maybe. But most of them come because they want to see and be seen. I don’t need some bloated, pontificating critic to tell me I’m good. The patrons who write checks are enough validation for me.”
The song ended and Nayo and Geoff stood motionless, staring at each other. “I’d better take you back to your boyfriend so he can stop shooting daggers at me.”
Shifting, Nayo turned to find Ivan standing with his arms crossed over his chest. His body language spoke volumes. He was not happy. “Ivan is a pussycat.”
Man of Fantasy Page 9