Exhaustion had her leaning back against the heavy oak surface to stay upright. “Dinner was delicious. I must admit, you’ve been spot-on about the best places to eat out here. Even that little rundown, crypt looking hole in the wall you took me to yesterday turned out to be really good. How do you even know about these places? Some of the locations where we’ve gone—” She paused, giving him a once over in his tailored designer suit, silk tie, and buffed black shoes. “Let’s just say a mom and pop locale doesn’t seem like it would be your speed.”
His features tightened slightly, his stare intense. “Don’t assume to know me, Miss Keller.” Just as quick, his laidback, buoyant expression smoothed back into place. “Ready for that drink?”
“I’m pretty worn out.” At five-ten, rarely did she have to look up at a man. He was easily six-four, all chiseled angles and fierce strength.
She’d never been the sort to get all googly-eyed over a handsome face, but whenever she took the time to study him, really look at Gavin Crane, there was something about the man’s exceptionally attractive features and cerulean gaze that tended to arrest her. He definitely fell into what she and her girlfriend, Bailey, coined as the hottie column.
“We had a great week, wouldn’t you agree?” he commented, breaking into her thoughts as he peeled out of his suit coat and draped it neatly over his forearm.
She gave a subtle study of the broad expanse of his shoulders in the well-fitted, pale blue button down, then met his eyes. “Yes, it was. My goodness, those guys had my work packed up in minutes. The same can be said for New York. Not one item had been damaged when it arrived here. Let’s see if that holds true when it reaches Vegas.”
“It had better if they want to get paid. I don’t want to see so much as a chip in a frame.”
His expression was stern for a moment before he replaced it with a small smile and came in close, close enough she felt his heat, but maintained just enough distance to hold the control. And he smelled good, awfully good, even after a full day of mingling and brushing elbows. A forearm came to rest against the door at her left shoulder—personal space effectively invaded. Why didn’t it ever kick-start her barrier’s alarm? Whatever the reason, a hottie he may be, she didn’t have time for it. If ever she needed a reminder on where his sort of distraction could lead, all she had to do was turn to her mother.
I’d been hand-picked by my instructor out of twenty girls to study at the Ailey School. Alvin Ailey, himself, saw me dance. Then you happened, and that father of yours disappeared along with my full scholarship getting yanked right from under me. It should’ve been my face up there on that studio window display.
Sienna’s stomach flipped suddenly. She couldn’t walk past the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater without wincing with a sea of guilt for being born.
Shaking herself loose from another of her mother’s little lullaby antidotes, she took a quiet breath to let the tension within uncoil and forced the thought back behind her heavy safety barrier. “Thanks for handling the arrangement to get everything shipped off.”
“You’re welcome. Have I told you tonight how stunning you look in that dress?” His eyes dipped to the conservative V of her cleavage, then slowly tracked upward, returning his cool gaze to her face. “My offer still stands to rub your feet.” He wiggled his fingers then, with a thumb gesture over his shoulder at the rich mahogany double doors across the wide hall, he grinned, that charming-cheek grin. “Your place or mine? I don’t live very far. I promise to have you home at a decent hour.”
Though her heart punched against her ribs as before, she maintained her detachment. “Nah, I’m going to take a hot shower and crawl into bed.”
He came out of his relaxed pose, stepped back, and sighed with expressed disappointment. “I’ll have to let my imagination run with that, I suppose. You have your room keycard?”
She pulled it from her black leather clutch purse. He took it from her, and with a quick swipe at the lock, opened, and stood just inside the room with his back braced flush against the door, giving her a wide area to pass without them making contact.
Just then her cell phone rang. She took it from her purse to view the display and quickly connected. “Hey. Hold on a moment.” Pressing the phone at her chest, she looked at Gavin, whose attention was laser focused on the phone in her hand. “I have to take this.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said with little inflection as he reached to his right and set the keycard on the entry table, then his steady stare held hers briefly. “Sleep well.” He stepped out. The door closed quietly behind him.
Sienna waited for the resounding clank of the door across the hall before she let go a breath, and her pulse managed to calm. Wow. She’d expected he’d ask to come inside. A small part of her, that perverse side of her, wanted him to, only so she could turn him away. Turning down his invitation wouldn’t have been just because she felt he was a player or a pain in the ass on occasion, it was something else, some kind of deeply embedded feeling that her mind fought against.
Judging from the scrapbook articles from various local papers, her mother had once been a spectacular dancer, and had things been different, she may have even become renowned. Sadly, she’d never know. All the more important why Sienna needed to stay focused, not become distracted by a handsome face. She refused to become a scrapbook page cut-out. That being said, whatever it was about Gavin Crane, it didn’t trigger the alarm whenever he came near. And that scared the hell out of her.
Remembering her call, she brought the phone to her ear. “Hey, Faith. Are you back home in Cape Cod?” They’d been friends since freshman year at Georgetown and recently had a falling out over Faith’s attempts to hook up with Bailey’s then boyfriend turned husband, Lucas Marx. Apologies had been made, but Bailey and Faith’s friendship had pretty much severed over it. However, Sienna tried to maintain a friendship with Faith. Faith felt responsible for the death of her mother and was convinced her father still blamed her for it; Sienna understood why the girl was so messed up, why she tended to make really dumb choices.
“Uh, soon. I wanted to wish you a belated happy birthday. I’m sorry I didn’t call last week.”
“It’s fine, and thanks.” Hearing a rustle of sniffles on the line, Sienna grew concerned. “Are you okay?” She slipped out of her heels and dropped down on the couch, propping her feet upon the glass inlayed white marble coffee table.
“I . . . I’m good. No worries.” A soft chuckle. “Well, it’s late. I better get off. Best of luck on your art tour.”
“Thanks. Faith, are you sure you’re okay? We can talk. What is it?”
“I’m fine. I need to get some sleep. We’ll catch up soon. Good night.”
The line disconnected. Sienna frowned. “What the hell?” An uneasiness had her thumb prepped to hit redial, but she refrained. It was always hard to gauge her friend’s mood. Faith tended to ride an emotional seesaw. Rest usually got her back on track.
Deciding she’d check on her friend in the morning, she rose to her feet and headed off to bed.
Sleep. That was what she needed herself.
• • •
Gavin tossed his suit coat onto the couch and tugged loose his tie on his way across the room to the bar caddy. He picked up a bottle. Maker’s Mark. Not his first choice, but it would serve its purpose. He poured a small amount and tossed it back while pulling from his pocket the scrap of paper with the redhead, Courtney’s, cell number scribbled on it. He filled the glass again about a fourth and carried it over to the couch to retrieve his cell from his suit coat pocket. The phone chimed before he could even pull it out. Sean. He read the text:
How are the rooms?
Free
Gavin texted back.
Lol, cheap motherfucker.
Presidential suites. At $1,200 a night, damn right.
Let me know if Sienna needs anything. Your ass can sleep outside.
As Gavin searched for the middle finger emoji, the phone rang. Ignor
ing his buddy, he took the call from Lucas. “What’s doing?”
“Just wanted to see how things were going. I was reviewing the expense sheet you sent over yesterday from the tour so far. Do you have Sienna eating peanut butter sandwiches or something? Cost is substantially lower then I’d expected.”
“You can blame or thank Sienna for that. Among other things, she came up with this ridiculous daily budget. The woman is excruciatingly frugal. As for her art work, man, the orders for her pieces are coming in left and right.”
“That’s no surprise to me. She has an exceptional skill. Make sure she has everything she needs outside of her self-imposed budget.”
“I got it covered.” Gavin set his whiskey on the table in front of him and relaxed back against the couch, releasing a deep sigh. “Dude, she gets pissed at me over just about everything. I can’t do anything right according to her.”
“Well, I’m sure you make that easy to do . . . the pissing off part. I heard you fired her curator.”
“You know about that?” Gavin grunted, but it was no surprise. Lucas had a direct pipeline to the goings-on through his wife. “Damn right, I fired his ass. If he’d spent more time doing what he’d been hired to do, instead of staring at Sienna all starry-eyed most of the damn day, he’d still have his job.”
“But of course, you’re not staring at her starry-eyed.”
Gavin dismissed the remark as he studied the slip of paper with Courtney’s number. “One thing is certain. She needs me here to deal with these vultures, whether she’d admit it or not. She’d priced her pieces far below what I felt they were worth. Hell, far below market in this industry. Even that became a battle with her. Lucas, man, she’s . . . Her work is incredible. She has this oil painting in her collection that blows me away. Every time I look at it, I find something new that I like about it.”
“You’re a lover of art now, is that it?” Lucas chuckled lightly.
“I wouldn’t go that far. I admire her contemporary style. What’s wrong with that?”
“So, you took off work for three and a half weeks merely out of the goodness of your heart to help her on her tour and because you appreciate her work. You have no ulterior motive?”
Gavin retrieved his glass from the table and took a swallow. “Dude, you already know that I was feeling her.”
“You wanted to sleep with her,” Lucas said dryly.
“Okay, I’ll own that. But I see it’s not something she’s into. It’s cool. My purpose now is to help her. I don’t think she realizes just how much money she’s made and can potentially make on her work. I’m talking fucking ridiculous money, man, if she’d let me guide this tour.”
“I’m aware. I have the report. Well, I’ll catch up with you at the end of the week.”
“Sure thing. Later.”
“Oh, what did you all do for her birthday?” Lucas asked.
Gavin blinked. “Sienna had a birthday? When?”
“Last week. Wednesday. I only know because while we were lying in bed, Bailey called her to wish her a happy birthday. Bailey mentioned that they call one another at the precise time of their birth every year.”
“I didn’t know it was her birthday. She didn’t mention it.”
“Bailey also said Sienna’s mother was supposed to attend her exhibit that day but was a no show. The woman hasn’t been a solid figure in Sienna’s life. Hey, keep that info to yourself.”
“Got it.”
“Later.”
Gavin hung up. He’d thought he and Sienna had become at the very least friends, if only in the barest sense enough to share birthday news. Damn. Talk about keeping your guarded gloves up. The woman was seriously closed off.
His attention shifted back to the scrap of paper in his hand. There had been no question Courtney wanted to play tonight. When he’d walked her to her car, she’d extended him an invitation to her place.
She had a terrific set of breasts and a body that offered up all sorts of promises. He needed to work off some energy; it had been damn near two months without sex. Why, then, was he hesitant to call her?
Sienna Keller.
Exaggeratedly cropped dark hair, slant-angled ebony eyes, full suckable lips, a perfect ass, legs that went on for days and all set on smooth summer-wheat-brown skin.
She’d been tumbling around in his head from the very night he’d met her at the art competition in D.C. He’d been awed by her talent, by her intellect, by her no nonsense attitude, by the woman as a whole.
When she wasn’t battling with him over every damn thing, which he actually found kind of hot, she hardly gave him a second glance. It was probably for the best. It wasn’t like he’d let anything grow beyond the physical between them anyway, and he’d learned rather quickly that she wasn’t the sort for just a hookup.
The moment she’d want to know more about him, he’d have to cut things off, so what would be the point? Courtney was the sort he was used to. It was easy. No strings. Hit it and move on. A grimace of distaste flooded over him at the thought.
Sienna.
He finished his whiskey and headed off to the bedroom, but not before tossing the scrap of paper into the wastebasket.
Chapter Three
The final three-day exhibit would be held at the Grant Royal Hotel and Resort, located in the pulse of the Vegas Strip. The fact that Sienna would be staying at the hotel made it very convenient.
The elegant ballroom had been prepped to receive her work. Easels and pedestals, both in rich mahogany, were staged about the ecru marble floor.
Sienna walked around the room, examining and cataloging each of her pieces. Not a single scratch. That relieved a ton of stress. She’d been sure something would end up broken or damaged in transport, but to her surprise, every piece arrived intact.
“All good over here.”
She turned in the direction of Gavin’s call from across the room. Crouched over several of her oil paintings that lay flat upon the floor, he closely checked the canvases, running his fingers over the corners of the frames. She’d come to learn that he was partial to the brightly colored pieces.
He’d given quite a bit of his time to help her. When asked if being away from his duties at MVC for such a long period would put a strain on his position, he’d replied, “It’s not an issue.” She still found it odd that a man in his position would assist her. Surely there had to be someone he could have assigned to the task.
MVC was footing the bill for all of this. Perhaps he wanted to be up close and personal to ensure the company got its money’s worth. That was precisely why she’d been such a stickler. It was important to be taken seriously. She may not have much going for her, like a Chanel handbag and a pooch to carry it in, but one thing was certain: she was a damn good artist, and a successful exhibit tour would broaden her art career.
“How’s it looking over there?” he called out, breaking into her thoughts and the echoed silence of the large space.
“Same over here. Everything looks good.” She strolled over to him.
He glanced up from his crouch over one of her oil on canvas. “I think this one is my favorite.” He pulled out the title tag from the frame’s corner edge. “Rustling Rainy Night.” Meeting her gaze again, he gave a soft smile and returned his attention to the painting. “Right here,” he pointed, “I like how you have the street lights reflecting the tree leaves onto the pavement in a multitude of colors. And how the couple sharing the umbrella are walking along the path arm and arm with their shadows blending into the wet pavement. I can’t explain it in that artsy way I’ve watched you do it with buyers, but you get what I’m trying to say.” His focus remained locked on the painting as he came to his feet. Then, he turned to her and stared wide-eyed as though he’d found some newly discovered wonder. “It’s the most beautiful painting I’ve ever seen. You have an amazing gift.”
He slipped into an intense stare, knocking her off guard. He’d never spoken or looked at her like that before, that look of pure warmth
, no flirty undertone.
“Thank you. It’s one of my favorites as well.” She was too startled by his expressed sincerity to maintain her detached, all-business persona. A sudden, irrational yearning washed over her, the desire to want more, share more, but she pushed the feelings down, sealing them under a tightly closed lid. “I’ve made a sketch of the room’s layout and put coordinating numbers in the squares where I’d like the staff to place each piece.” She angled the paper for him to view.
He blinked once, warmth dispersed, cool blue eyes back to normal. “I’ll see that it gets done. You go rest up.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s twenty past two. The exhibit opens at 5:00 p.m. sharp. When I’m done here, I’ll get a quick shower and pop over to your room around 4:45.”
Before Sienna could respond, he took the paper from her hand and started barking out orders to a young man attempting to situate one of her rather large metal abstract sculptures.
Mr. Pushy. That said, she appreciated all he’d done for her.
Out of nowhere, a yawn built momentum and stretched her cheeks wide. She hadn’t gotten much sleep over the past several weeks. It was starting to catch up with her. A quick nap sounded heavenly.
She made another circle around the room, giving everything one last check. Catching a glance from Gavin, he shooed her with his hand and mouthed silently, go. Offering a smile, she left without objection.
Chapter Four
The hard pounding against the door woke Sienna with a start. She looked at the clock on the nightstand and leaped out of bed on a cursed breath. It was four thirty. The rumble of knocks came again as she hurriedly tied her robe, crossed to the door, and yanked it open.
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