by Tina Michele
Table of Contents
Synopsis
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
About the Author
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Synopsis
Ainsley “Lee” Dencourt was born with her future drawn out as heir of the Dencourt Gallery in Washington, DC. She has mastered fine art and the art of controlling the details of her life, including the people in it—and the people she wants in it, like Morgan Blake.
For Morgan, the only thing more important than her family is art. Morgan has put her heart and soul into her education and her future—it’s what got her to Yale and to Paris. She can’t allow anything or anyone to come between her and her dreams of success. So why is it that every time Morgan gets a handle on life a dangerously sexy and hopelessly frustrating woman from her past appears and turns her world upside down?
From the City of Lights to the Nation’s Capital, Lee and Morgan search for their place in the world of art. Is that place together—or will fear, pride, and deceit destroy what they’ve found with each other?
Venus in Love
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Venus in Love
© 2014 By Tina Michele. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-277-9
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: December 2014
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Cindy Cresap
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
Acknowledgments
I want to thank, from the bottom of my heart, my family for their support and encouragement of my wild and crazy ideas. Mom, Dad, and T, you are the best parents that this “fickle” girl could have. You love me for ALL of my choices and stand by me even when I choose not to listen. My biggest fan and big sister, Angel, this book may not have happened if you hadn’t poked at me to finish it. (Every. Damn. Day.) You, M, & Em are always there for a good laugh or a cry, although I prefer the coveted laughing cry that occurs after I inevitably do something ridiculous and retell it with my trademark splendor. My little sister, Jen, for constantly trying to distract me with shopping trips and excursions to Disney—you know exactly how to feed my attention deficit and simultaneously recharge my brain.
Smooches to Kena, Kizz, Nancy, and Hollipops, you are inspiring, you give me great material, and you keep me (in)sane. So much love.
Hugs to Sarah, Teresa, Angel, and Kena for taking time out of your busy lives to read Venus and test my ability to take thoughtful criticism (with a heavy dose of praise and bowls full of sugar to help the medicine go down).
I am beyond grateful to Bold Strokes Books for giving me the chance to turn a simple personal goal into something so real, and to Cindy for page-after-page of truly brilliant lessons and advice.
And for you…this was always for you.
Dedication
“Forever and for always.”
Prologue
Lee Dencourt was late for class. Again. She didn’t know why she never seemed to make it on time, regardless of how early she woke up. It didn’t even matter if she got home at a reasonable hour the night before; inevitably, something or someone always held her up. This morning, it was the latter. Her chosen someone for the evening didn’t start her first class until eleven a.m., so she had no problem keeping Lee, or whoever else, up until she was completely satisfied. Lee was not one to leave a lady unsatisfied.
Professor Buerdett gave Lee the standard disapproving scowl when she flung open the auditorium doors twenty minutes late into his lecture. She half expected him to call her by her full name, Ainsley, like her mother always did. More than one of her professors had threatened to withdraw Lee from their courses, yet she always managed to avoid that fate. Professor Buerdett was no exception. Lee knew that it had a great deal to do with her name and the fact that her parents contributed large sums of money every year to maintain the university’s art gallery. However, Lee was also a gifted student, and there wasn’t a professor out there that could deny her that much. Lee cared about art, just like she cared about her family. Both were so much a part of who she was that she didn’t see her future without them.
Lee slid into an open seat in the back of the room. She was relieved since the few seats near the front were not an option. The 150-seat auditorium was full with burgeoning fine arts majors, all of them hoping that, one day, they would make their mark in or on the art world. Lee was no exception, except that she would not struggle like the majority of her classmates when it came to finding her place. She was born into that world. As Lee prepared herself for the remainder of the lecture, she heard what sounded like a harumph of disappointment come from the student in the next seat over.
Once settled, Lee ran a smoothing hand through her hair, thinking to herself that she should just cut it the rest of the way off. She looked over at her disgruntled neighbor. Lee was startled to see the sparkling set of eyes that stared back at her. She was afraid to breathe for fear that those eyes would look away. It was her. Lee didn’t know her name, but she knew that for the last four years, she had admired, from afar, the woman she called Venus.
Venus had golden strawberry hair that reminded Lee of Botticelli’s masterpiece, The Birth of Venus. It fell in loose tendrils down her back, and Lee always imagined that it would feel like spun silk in her hands. Venus didn’t have the striking features of a Hollywood starlet, but she captivated Lee nonetheless. Lee’s eyes remained focused on Venus’s, but she knew from memory that those eyes were the center of the face that filled her dreams and fantasies. Over the last four years, Lee has spent an extraordinary amount of time studying the classic beauty of her classmate instead of her actual coursework. After all, it wasn’t like she actually needed the degree to advance in her career field when the time came.
Lee had never really had any problems getting a woman when she needed one, straight or gay. Most had pursued her, and she always found that in
credibly accommodating. Yet there was one woman who never pursued her. As a matter of fact, she barely looked in Lee’s direction except to roll her eyes or scowl in disapproval. Venus never looked at anyone the way she looked at art, no matter how often she caught Lee staring from across the room, or in this case, right in front of her.
Just as Lee was about to speak, Venus blinked, and the spell was broken. Venus’s attentions were just as quickly refocused on Professor Buerdett and off of Lee. Lee felt the cold creep in quickly as those warm eyes looked away. As Lee forced herself to breathe, the scents of ocean spray and rain permeated her senses. She felt herself growing weak with each inhale. Each breath filled Lee with an intoxicating peacefulness. The anxiety she’d had moments ago dissolved steadily with each breath she drew in. Lee drifted into a daydream, as she had many times, while studying this living masterpiece.
She pulled Venus from the ocean, wet and dripping with the salty seawater. The ocean breeze flowed through her hair, and the cool air teased her nipples into tight pink tips. Lee felt a rush of heat between her thighs as she drew Venus into her arms, melding the smooth body into her own. Holding her tightly, Lee dipped her head to claim the warm, moist, and naturally pink lips with her own.
Lee was jolted awake by the rustling of papers and the loud chatter of students wrestling for the exit. She quickly glanced at the seat next to her, and a surge of disappointment rushed through her body as she realized it was no longer occupied. As Lee gathered her things to leave, she remembered the sweet scent of the woman who fueled her desires.
*
Morgan Blake didn’t even take the time to pack her books into her bag when class was finally dismissed. The last hour of class seemed to linger on endlessly as she listened to the soft, slow breathing of the woman sleeping beside her. The rugged, dark-haired woman pinched her nerves of both frustration and yearning. When she first sat down, Morgan wanted to express her disgust at the way she sauntered into class thirty minutes late nearly every day. Yet, she only managed the sharp intake of breath when their eyes met. Once her neighbor drifted off, Morgan couldn’t keep herself from appraising the curves and angles of the hands with long, slender fingers. Morgan imagined how those hands would feel running through her hair, gripping her neck, and pulling her in for a taste of those delicately parted lips.
Try as she might to focus on Byzantine architecture, she found herself drawn back to the sharp features of the woman beside her. The long, jean-clad legs that stretched out in front of her, and the hint of a tight tee under an orange plaid vintage button-up, complete with pearl snap buttons. As she brazenly surveyed the remarkably relaxed and confident woman, Morgan secretly wished she would open those deep soulful eyes and look at her once again.
As soon as Morgan recognized the professor’s telltale signs of lecture conclusion, she gathered her things and slipped past the sleeping figure. Morgan did not have time for such diversions in her final classes. She was leaving for Paris in three months, and letting her grades slip because of some roguish distraction was not an option. She didn’t get the Louvre internship by frequent tardiness and sleeping through class. She wasn’t about to let someone who did affect her future.
“Oh, I bet even an hour with her would be worth it, somehow,” she said out loud to no one when she stopped at a park bench to put her books away.
“Who would be worth it, gorgeous?” a man said suggestively into her ear.
Morgan jerked up and spun around to see her best friend and roommate, Freddy, smiling at her slyly.
“You know I hate when you do that! Why hasn’t it gotten old for you yet?”
“Because it makes me laugh.”
“Yes, it’s very funny,” Morgan said with thick sarcasm.
“So what would be worth it?”
“Ugh, nothing. I’m just telling myself that daydreaming about the campus hottie is not benefiting my future plans for greatness.”
Freddy poked Morgan in the ribs. “Ah, yes. However, it would undoubtedly benefit your shriveling vagi—”
Morgan cut him off with a mocking punch to his stomach. “Stop it! That’s almost as annoying as sneaking up on me. And I would appreciate it if you would stop thinking about my vagina. It’s…creepy.”
“Trust me, girlfriend, the less I think about your vagina, the better I feel,” Freddy said in his exaggerated femme voice.
“Speaking of that, shouldn’t you be off courting some hot stud across campus right about now?”
“While it pains me to say it, for once, we will not let this be about me.” He winked.
Morgan laid her head on his shoulder when he grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together. “Let’s go home.” She was going to miss Freddy very much when she left.
“So, is she really as hot as you say she is…while you’re sleeping?” Freddy whispered.
Morgan chopped him in the gut for real this time. “Shut up!” she screeched, laughing. “I hate you. And yes. Yes, she is.”
*
From the steps of the auditorium, Lee watched the banter between Venus and a handsome young man. Lee watched the woman’s hair blow around her in the wind as the man poked at her abdomen intimately, making Venus swirl away from him and return with a jab in his stomach. The playful exchange reminded her of siblings, and it was very likely that Venus was straight. Lee would not have been surprised to see him sweep her into his arms and kiss her. When he grabbed her hand and led Venus away, Lee couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. She wished she was the one Venus looked at so adoringly. It was then that Lee promised herself that the next time she had the chance, she would ask Venus out.
“What would it hurt?” Lee said despite the small warning her heart offered at the thought of rejection.
On a day that seemed so full of potential, Lee answered a call that changed her world forever. Lee listened numbly as the caller told her that her father, her mentor, confidant, and best friend, had suffered a fatal heart attack. She left for home that night and never returned to finish her final semester or see Venus again.
Chapter One
“Mother, you don’t need me there, you want me there. There’s a difference. Hold on a sec…” Lee paused the redundant conversation as she got into her Mercedes and enabled the wireless Bluetooth feature. She didn’t want to be having this discussion at all, but if she was going to while driving, hands-free was not only safer, it was required by law.
“Okay, what was I…oh, right. What I need is not to have to listen to another person offer sympathies for our loss or receive congratulations for my ‘unfortunate advancement’ to director of the gallery. And I certainly will not be cornered by Bernard Aleurest and forced to listen to him tout the benefits of ‘merging our houses,’ literally and figuratively.” Even the mention of his name made her skin crawl and brought up a knot of nausea in her throat. He was simply sleazy.
“I know, darling, but sometimes—”
“Mother, I’m not ready. And besides, what would I do without you handling everything so perfectly?”
“One day, you are going to—”
Before her mother could finish her sentence, Lee cut her off and merely informed her that she would call as soon as she got there. There being Paris, France. It wasn’t that Lee was in love with France; she was in love with the Musée du Louvre. It was her home away from home and the only place in the world she could go to get and be lost. The Louvre was 645,800 square feet of the art and antiquities that most visitors spent hours or even days wandering determinedly, seeking out the museum’s most celebrated pieces. Lee’s goal, however, was to wander aimlessly, deep into its heart to find something that offered answers to her questions and soothed her turmoil.
Art speaks without words and loves without prejudice. Listen and she will tell you all you need to know in that moment. Lee’s eyes filled with tears as she remembered her father’s words. “I miss you so much, Daddy.”
Before the tears could spill over onto her cheeks, Lee composed herself. She r
eally needed to get away, and she hoped she was picking the right place to go. She hadn’t been back to Paris since the week after her father’s funeral. Both events seemed like a lifetime ago. A year and a half ago, two things in Lee’s life were constant, fine art and her father, solid, stable, and everlasting. She always believed they would be there for her forever, whenever she needed them.
The thought of never being able to hear him tell her that, “everything rights itself in the end,” made her gasp for air. Lee could not think of a single time when her father hadn’t dropped everything to listen to her latest dilemma and offer his sage advice. She remembered the many times he had stopped a meeting, ushered everyone out of his office, and asked her to “start from the beginning.” She couldn’t recall a time when he wasn’t able to resolve even her most personal dramas. Until this trip to Paris, Lee had avoided any situation that required a decision short of her daily wardrobe selection. In college, before her father’s death, her life was carefree and uncomplicated.
That changed in the months afterward. Lee spent much of her time organizing and managing the things in her life that she could. Even her intimate encounters had become calculated. She left nothing to chance. Doing so made her feel helpless, and she refused to feel that way if she had the ability not to.
When she thought about it, she became very angry. She was angry with him for always coddling her. She was angry that he never said no, and he never made her learn anything on her own. She never had to learn things the hard way. But mostly, she was angry with him because he never prepared her for the day that he would no longer be there for her. He taught her everything she knew about the gallery, about art, about curating, fundraising, and managing staff, but he never taught her how to do it without him—the one and only reason why her mother did it all now.