by Larissa Ladd
“Lisa!” My cheeks burned. “I thought you were seeing someone.”
“Fucking someone. I’m not seeing anyone, unless he’s naked and worth it.”
I let out a nervous laugh. She was rowdy as all get out, but rarely did she talk about her love life. “What happened to Terrance?”
“He’s out.” She pointed to her chair before reaching out and running her fingers through my long hair. “Let’s put some red in this today. Sit down, and let me make you look like the manager of an art gallery.”
“I’m pretty sure most managers are conservative looking.” I dropped down in the chair and let out a long sigh. Life had been boring for so long that I was used to it.
The shakeup with Hawke taking over the gallery wasn’t expected or welcomed.
“For an art museum maybe, but not a gallery. Girl, you get to express yourself any way you want. Let’s make a splash with a new layered haircut and some red highlights.” She looked up at me as I stared at her in the mirror. Her own hair was funky, several colors, and super sexy.
“All right. Yeah. Why not?” I clasped my hands tightly together as she put a cape around me. “I need a change in my life, at least one I can control.”
“One you can control?” She moved back and ran her hands through my hair again, her nails scratching my scalp softly. A chill ran through me, and I realized how long it had been since I’d felt any type of pleasure.
“Yes. The owner of the gallery passed away from cancer the other day. He gave the business to his son.”
“Son? How old is this son?” She gave me another teeth-showing smile.
“I think he’s around my age.” I shrugged and averted my eyes from her stare.
“That’s fucking great!” She tugged at my hair and leaned around, resting her chin on my shoulder as we stared at each other in the mirror. “You need to get this new look and let it seep deep into your soul. Let yourself be free for once, hm?”
“Sleep with him?” I widened my eyes and shook my head ‘no.’ “Not happening.”
“You don’t know that.” She moved back and gathered the supplies for my new do. “He might be the type of guy that makes even you shiver and moan.”
“Stop it.” I laughed under my breath at the thought. “I’m not even going to entertain that idea.”
“Okay, but if he’s hot, and you’re not willing to ride his wild stallion, then at least hook me up?” She moved back toward me and started to work on my hair. “Someone needs to break the man in.”
“Well, it’s not going to be me. Sleeping with my boss is out.”
“Hell, sleeping with anyone for you is out, but sister, we ain’t talking about sleeping.” She thrust her hips forward, hitting the back of the chair and jolting me a little. We both laughed loudly.
“Who knows, Lisa? He’s probably a snot-nose brat with a stick up his ass.” I could only hope.
“Or he’s a Billy Badass with tattoos, a great sense of art, and a huge cock.”
I let my chin drop to my chest as I closed my eyes. I prayed with all my might that he wasn’t Lisa’s version of an alpha asshole. I didn’t know how to put up with badasses, tattoos scared the shit out of me, and big cocks were for someone else altogether.
I was a virgin, and I planned to stay one until the right guy came along.
One that my mother would approve of so life wouldn’t get harder.
And that’ll happen... right. Never.
5
Hawke
“You got this.” I grabbed the rear-view mirror to pull it back up where it belonged as I sat in my car outside of the art gallery. I knew my father owned a lot of shit, but an art gallery? Never in a million years would I have guessed.
I jerked the mirror back down and locked my jaw, staring at myself for a minute.
“Don’t fuck this up. Don’t be the loser he thought you were. You got this shit.” I nodded and fixed the mirror, feeling like a pansy and a half. I laughed at myself as I got out of the car and thought about any one of my brothers reacting to me pep-talking my damn self in my beat up old car. “Whatever.”
The gallery was in the heart of the art district. Never had I noticed it before, though. It sat off the main street, and the plainness of the building threw me off. Red and brown brick and not nearly enough windows.
“That’s the first thing we’re changing.” I walked up to the door and reached for it, tugging to find it locked. After checking my watch, I realized I was there two hours before the place opened. “Idiot.”
I turned and looked around. There had to be a door in the back where the staff went in. I’d contacted Mister Collinger over the weekend to see if he had any more information on the gallery, like who the fuck was running it.
He didn’t answer, nor did he return my damn call.
“Typical lawyer.” I turned and walked around to the back of the building, rolling my sleeves up as I went. Button-up shirts and slacks were for monkeys usually, but I found myself wearing what I’d worn to Dad’s funeral.
It was a gallery, not a museum, but I figured a first impression of being a guy with my shit together would serve me better than the truth.
I pushed the back door open and stepped in. “Hello? Anyone here?”
A shrill yelp caused me to stop in my tracks. The lanky dude standing a few feet from me, surrounded by unopened boxes, looked like he might faint.
“Who are you? We’re not open. Get out!” He marched toward me, his large brown eyes filled with fear and accentuated by eyeliner.
“Hey, I’m Hawke Miles. My father owns this gallery.” I lifted my hands. “Sorry I scared you.”
“Oh, dear baby Jesus and shit stains.” He closed his eyes, dropped his head, and let out a soft laugh. “I am so sorry, Mister Miles. I thought you were coming after lunch.”
He glanced up, and I offered him a smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. My alarm went off at the wrong time, and I figured I’d get up and get the day going.”
“Dallen McIntosh. So nice to meet you.” He walked toward me, hand extended. His blue fingernails should have thrown me off, but they didn’t. He was an artist all the way. I knew a million guys and girls like him. Expressive to the point of being rebellious about it. I liked the kid already.
“Hawke. Please. Just call me Hawke. I’m no one important.” I glanced around as the kid shook my hand. “So, do you manage the gallery?”
“No, I do.” The female voice behind me was both sexy and filled with annoyance. “We planned to spend time with you around one today. Is there some reason you’re in early?”
I released Dallen’s hand and turned to find the most beautiful woman I’d seen in a long-ass time staring me down. A chuckle erupted from me unexpectedly.
She pressed her hand to her hip and lifted an eyebrow. How cute. She thought to intimidate me.
“I own the place. I’ll show up when I want to, Miss.” I paused and took her in while she fumbled with an apology. Her hair was back, braided maybe, I couldn’t tell. A dark red streak ran from the front of her bangs and disappeared behind one of her ears, but it didn’t fit her. Long, lithe legs, small breasts, and a tight dancer’s body. My cock woke up and threatened to put on a show if I didn’t pull my thoughts back from envisioning her in a leotard.
“I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s been a long morning.” She dropped her hands to her side as her cheeks burned pink.
“What Jenna meant to say is that we’re missing a shipment, and someone spray painted the sidewalk again.” Dallen moved up beside her and turned to face me. “After being here all weekend for the last showing, she’s a tad bit tired.”
The beautiful girl nodded. “Yeah. Forgive me.” She extended her hand, and I took it.
“Nothing to forgive.” I shook her hand and searched her face. Where I half expected to find condemnation oozing from her gaze, I didn’t. I found a weariness I’d known in my own life from time to time. “Hawke Miles. Nice to meet you, Jenna.”
&n
bsp; “Jenna Camden. I manage the gallery.” She pulled her hand back when I didn’t release it. “Would you like me to show you around? We can take a quick tour and then chat in my office about anything you’d like to go over.”
“Sounds great.” I nodded toward Dallen. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too, sir.” He turned and walked back toward the inventory behind us.
“Let’s start down at the west hallway.” She turned and continued to talk, but I was lost to the scent of her perfume. How many women had tried to get into my bed in the last few years? None. All of the crazy artsy types that wanted to spend the night at my place weren’t women. They were girls in their twenties, trying to outrace life as fast as they could.
Jenna seemed like an old soul stuck in the beautiful, tight body of a twenty-something ballerina.
“And this is our contemporary studio. Sometimes, artists will come in for a day of show and tell.” She paused by an open studio door, and I moved up beside her, trying hard not to let my eyes linger on the thick swell of her ass in her tight as hell pencil skirt.
“You’re a dancer?” I bit my tongue the minute I let the question loose.
She blinked a few times slowly and looked down as if she were bothered by my question. “Yes. I mean, I was.”
“Are you an artist as well?” I moved into the studio and walked up to one of the half-finished watercolor pictures.
“No.” There was a sadness in her voice.
I turned and smiled. “But you love art?”
“I do.” She pursed her lips and paused for a moment, maybe expecting me to say something. I didn’t. I just watched her gather her thoughts. “You’re awfully young to be the new owner of this old, beloved art gallery, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.” I slipped my hands into my pockets and walked toward her, stopping at a comfortable distance. “But life didn’t ask me what I wanted, nor did my old man.” I looked up to see the ceiling painted in a beautiful sky-scape. “He thought this was the best gift he could give me in death. I wasn’t so sure when I received the news, but I feel very much at home here.”
“Speaking of your father. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” I lowered my chin and locked eyes with her. “Ask your questions, Jenna. I can tell you have some.”
“Right.” She backed out of the room and nodded toward her left. “Let’s keep walking.”
“Sure.” I moved up beside her and took in the hallway ahead of us. Something caught my eye, and I couldn’t help but interrupt the tour to fix a beautiful Rembrandt-style painting on the wall. “There.”
“Ha!” She shook her head as I glanced back her. “I told Dallen that needed to be tilted to the left.”
I winked and moved back down the hallway. “They’re tricky paintings.”
“So you know something about art?” Her tone lightened.
“A little bit.” I slipped my hands back into my pockets and continued to study my inheritance. I loved the place with a passion I hadn’t expected to feel. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was the bright colors and warm accents. Maybe it was that my father knew me more than he’d ever let on.
“Not to be disrespectful, but your father was absent. I mean, I never met him. He never came by.”
“He came by.” I chuckled. “My dad might have been involved in a million things, but he was far too much of a control freak not to come by. If you never saw him, it means he came at night and that he trusted you.”
“You think so?” She stopped in front of the main door and turned to face me.
Something about the way the stained glass hit her left my heart skipping a beat. She had no clue of how beautiful she was. How feminine. Without a ring on her finger, I wanted to know if she was taken, but it would have been inappropriate. Maybe.
“I do.”
She smiled but let the expression slip from her face as quickly as it had appeared. “Are you going to micromanage us or let us continue our work like we’ve done in the past?”
“Good question.” I turned from her and walked back toward her office. “Unfortunately, it’s not one I can answer just yet. I’m not a manager at all. That’s your job, but this is my gallery now.”
“I understand all of that. It’s just that—”
“What?” I turned to find her almost too close. I didn’t step back, and crazy enough, she didn’t either.
“Nothing.” She moved around me, her shoulder brushing by mine. “Feel free to look around. I have to leave a little early for a dinner date tonight, but I’ll be here most of the day if you need anything. There’s an extra office at the other end of the hall you’re more than welcome to use.”
“Great. Thanks, Jenna. Nice to meet you again.” I turned and walked down the hallway. Dinner date? Fuck.
Funnily enough, she didn’t return my compliment.
6
Jenna
“Dammit to hell,” I cursed under my breath as I walked toward Lisa’s apartment. Why the hell did Hawke Miles have to be so damn hot? Everything about him had my blood burning. I hadn’t had such a strong reaction to anyone before.
It was confusing.
Maybe a mixture of tension and lust?
“Hey. You coming to get me?” Lisa walked out of her apartment looking like a million bucks. Her long legs were on full display thanks to the slit up the side of her black dress. Her heels were over two inches, and her hair was done in curls, leaving her to look far more innocent than she was.
I glanced down at my pencil skirt and button-down shirt. “I look like your nerdy secretary.”
“Boys like secretaries.” She laughed and moved past me, grabbing my hand and tugging me back toward the car with her. “Stop judging yourself. You look amazing. You always do.”
“Whatever.” I tugged my hand from hers and tried not to focus on how sexy she was. Lucky bitch. I had no clue how to dress myself beyond a ballet outfit or my work getup. Sweats didn’t count.
“I’m looking forward to this. Nobody’s ever tried to take me somewhere fancy.” She smiled over the top of the car and blew me a kiss. “You know you’re the best thing that’s happened in my life in the last three years, right?”
I snorted. “Lisa. You’re the only good thing that’s happened in my life. Period.”
“Aww.” She got into the car and buckled up. “Tell me all about this new boss.”
“No foreplay?” I teased and buckled up.
“Nope. Get to the goods. Is he young?”
“Probably my age. A little older maybe?” Butterflies woke up in my stomach and started flapping around. Hawke wasn’t my type in the slightest, but the way he looked at me had me coming undone. “He’s really good looking.”
“Really good looking?” She huffed. “That’s all you got?”
“He’s fucking hot.” I put the car in drive and pulled out of her parking lot. “He’s tall, maybe six-four or so, jet-black hair, tats up his arms, but he wore a suit shirt and slacks. He’s filled out really well, and he seems pretty confident of himself.”
“Is he an artist?” She pulled at the seatbelt before giving me a puppy dog face. “Can I take this off?”
“Not a chance.” I shook my head. “And I don’t know if he’s an artist. He pegged me for not being one pretty quickly when he walked in this morning.” I shrugged, trying to stave off the disappointment that it was that obvious.
“Wait. Not a chance on the seatbelt or him being an artist?”
“Seatbelt.” I pulled onto the freeway, glancing over my shoulder briefly. “He’s going to be a challenge for sure. He was dressed up like a business man, but my instincts tell me that he wasn’t at all prepared for this gift from his father.”
“His daddy must have been pretty rich.”
“A billionaire at least.” I leaned back and tried to relax. My short-term future held a fatty steak and a night of watching ballet, which I loved with a passion.
“Wow, and he’s dead?”
I
laughed. “Yes. You sound hopeful that he might not only be alive, but available.”
“So, sue me.” She gave me a cute look. “I’ve tried love. I’ve tried lust. Both are great until your electricity bill comes in. This next time, I’m thinking I’ll go for money.”
“Not a bad idea.” I ran my hands around the steering wheel. “Although my parents are super wealthy too, and I’d rather break a toe on purpose than take money from either of them.”
“I thought you and your dad were good?” She turned to face me.
“We are, but he’s terrified of my mother, and for good reason.” I let out a short sigh and pulled off the freeway. “No talking about my parents tonight. I’m hoping for a break from my own personal hell.”
“No problem. Back to the hottie. What’s his name?”
“Hawke.” I hadn’t gotten his name out of my mouth before she moaned it—loudly. I laughed. “What are you doing?”
“Moaning it.” She gave me a look. “Oh, come on. You know when you meet a hot guy that might be a lover in the future that you have to practice moaning his name.”
I laughed louder and pulled up to the valet. “Um, no. There’s no way in hell I would moan someone’s name.”
“Don’t be a prude. Do it. For me. For my birthday.”
“No!” I put the car in park as a cute younger guy walked around to my side of the car. “Happy Birthday, by the way.”
“Thank you. Moan it. Come on. Just for me?” She pleaded with me, her eyes big and filled with false innocence. “Just one time. Please?”
“Fine.” I rolled my eyes but moaned “Hawke” about the time the guy opened my door and gave me an odd smile.
“Evening ladies.” He moved back, and I realized his name tag said, “John”. The color of his cheeks gave away the fact that he thought I’d moaned his name.
“Good grief.” I walked around the car and explained the situation to Lisa. We were in fits of laughter together by the time we walked into the restaurant.