Divine Desire: A Lotus House Novel: Book Three

by Audrey Carlan

  “Will I meet him?” I asked.

  “Of course, although he wanted to stay anonymous until the time was right.” She batted her lashes and smirked. “Guess you’re special to him.”

  I gasped. “I just have no idea why.”

  She shrugged. “Secret admirer perhaps.” She leaned forward, as if to share a golden nugget of gossip. “He’s really good-looking and every time he mentioned your name, his entire face lit up like a Christmas Day parade. I think you’ve got a crush on your hands.”

  I laughed out loud. “I don’t know anyone in the art world besides Steven, and he’s gay!” I shook my head.

  Right then, I felt a little tug on the bottom of my dress and looked down. My baby girl was cheesy smiling at me, her hair in perfect pigtails with little pink bows. I crouched down and scooped up Lily. “Hi, baby.” I snuggled against her neck, her sweet baby lotion smell comforting my nerves.

  “We are here to see art!” she said with glee and clapped her hands together. “Mommy says you a star!” She crunched up her nose and tilted her head one way and then the other. “I see no stars on you.”

  I laughed and snugged her again as Moe chuckled behind us. I spun around. “Hey, Moe. Thanks for coming.”

  She looked affronted. “As if I’d ever miss this. I saw the entire gang from your work parking cars. Oh, there they are now.” She pointed to the door.

  True to her word, in came Trent with his arm wrapped around Genevieve. He wore a slick suit with a pocket square and tie that were the exact hot pink of Vivvie’s dress. Total class. Behind them were Dash and Amber. Dash was wearing dress slacks and an artsy button-up shirt. Amber, always prim and proper, looked like Audrey Hepburn in a cream-colored sheath, and her hair was up in a high bun. Next in line was Nicolas Salerno, who had Dara Jackson on his arm. I knew they were best friends, but together they did look like a model duo. He wore a suit with no tie, the collar of his dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck to show a bit of his golden chest. His hair was slicked back perfectly. He led Dara, who wore a navy-blue sequined, strapless cocktail dress with her dark skin seeming to glow along with the sequins and her tawny hair falling down her bare back and around her shoulders. Simple elegance.

  They all made their way toward me. “Hey, guys! Thank you for coming.”

  I hugged each of them individually as the men went to get drinks. Clayton Hart came through the door, spotted me, and smiled as he walked over. Before I knew it, he was hugging me. “Proud of you. Atlas is, too,” he whispered in my ear.

  Just the mention of the man I loved and hadn’t seen in a month was an icicle to the heart. I stiffened in his arms, forcing that armor around my heart to harden. “Yeah, well, I wish he were here to see this.” My voice shook, but I swallowed down the emotion. This was no time for breaking down now. Not tonight. Not when everything I’d ever worked for was hanging on the walls for all the world to see.

  Ingrid rushed over to me. “Excuse me. We need her.” She pulled me away as I waved at my friends. Clay looked at Moe, then at Lily, and then turned and left them standing there. I had no idea what that was about, but I planned to ask him when I got a chance.

  “You’ll never believe this,” Ingrid spoke speedily in my ear, her overwhelmingly fragrant perfume invading my senses and tickling the back of my throat.

  I coughed trying to expel some of her scent. “What?”

  “Every nude has already sold and several of your architectural ones as well. You may end up with a sellout show. That would be the first time that has ever happened in the two years I’ve worked here!” She was practically bouncing. I wanted to hold onto her wrist to make sure she didn’t fall over in her shoes, but then I heard the strum of a guitar.

  I attempted to listen to Ingrid, but the guitar and the murmured voice that went with it was too familiar. The notes dug through my pores, went into my bloodstream, and wrapped around my heart.

  “I’ve got to…” I started walking away, and she grabbed my hand.

  “Mila…” she said, concern coating her tone.

  “No, I know that voice. It’s…” The crowd cleared a path, and there he was. Sitting on a stool, his foot resting on one rung, his acoustic guitar resting on his thigh, the most beautiful smile adorning his lips. And he was looking at me. Atlas’s eyes shone under the light, and in that moment, he was more stunning to me than any piece of art in the entire place.

  “Aw, there’s my girl. The woman of the night. The artist we are all here to see. Mila Mercado everyone. Let’s give her a hand for sharing this beauty with us tonight.”

  Everyone around applauded as I made my way to where Atlas was sitting. I still couldn’t believe he was here. I stopped about ten feet away in the semicircle that had been created around him. All my friends were there, the guys grinning and the women tearing up.

  “You see everyone, a month ago, I walked away from the only woman I ever loved. Tonight, I’m here to grovel, beg, borrow, and plead to win her back. I love you, Mila, and I wrote this song for you. It’s called, ‘Wildcat.’”

  ATLAS

  Mila was a vision in red. The dress clung to every inch of her beautiful mocha-colored skin in the most delectable way possible. I wanted to run my tongue down the silky fabric and see if her natural taste and scent would bleed through the fabric. I’d bet every last dollar I had that it would.

  Her hair was filled with curls, one side swept back so that I could easily see her caramel-colored eyes. Christ, I missed her. Not until that very second did it hit me how much I ached for her presence in my life.

  I addressed the crowd but kept my eyes on the woman I loved while she stood there, as still as a statue. Not a hint of her facade cracking. Only I knew better. Inside she’d be an emotional wreck. I could see it in her eyes, the way she wanted to run to me, the way she hurt for me. It broke my heart how very much I’d screwed up what we had by not fighting for her, for us. I’d never make that mistake again. Never. My only hope was that through being here tonight, showing her work, singing this song, she’d find it in her to forgive me.

  I cleared my voice, strummed the melody and then let my soul speak.

  Seeing you is seeing my future

  Painted brushstrokes on a picture

  These days away, have broken me down

  With our love we’ll rebuild it now

  I never meant to break your heart,

  Please, please, let me start,

  To find a way, to make it right

  Wildcat, I’ll work so hard,

  all day, every night

  Until you believe it’s just you and me,

  Us forever

  It’s what’s meant to be

  I belted out the chorus, singing only to her.

  I never meant to break your heart,

  Please, please, let me start,

  To find a way, to make it right

  Wildcat, I’ll work so hard,

  all day, every night

  As I sang, I swear I saw her body tremble, the armor around her heart cracking and crumbling as tears made her eyes glassy.

  I’ll never let you go this time, I swear

  Promise you forever, forever there.

  My work will never be done

  Until our lives are lived as one.

  Please, wildcat, I need you to see,

  Please believe, it’s just you and me,

  Us forever

  It’s what’s meant to be

  Please, baby, just dazzle me.

  Mila sobbed as I sang the last note. I stood, placed my guitar on the stand behind my stool, and went to her. Her body shook and tears poured down her face. I cupped her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Mila. I’m so damn sorry. I was selfish, inconsiderate, despicable…”

  She swallowed once. “Shut up.” Her voice was rough and gravelly, as if she’d spent too long not speaking.

  “But, baby, I was wrong, so wrong. I should never have left you. I love you.”

  “I said, shut up.”

  My heart p
ounded so hard I couldn’t hear anything else but the whooshing inside my head and her words. “Please…”

  “Shut. Up. And. Kiss. Me,” she spoke between hiccoughing sobs.

  For a second, I was going to continue groveling, get on my knees and beg, but then her words resonated, and I watched a small smile slip across her beautiful lips.

  “Are you deaf, curly?” She had more control over her voice then.

  “But I…but you…I left and…”

  She nodded. “Yes, you did. You fucked up huge, and I’m going to take every opportunity to throw it in your face. But not tonight. Not after you sang me that song. Not after you said you loved me and shared that with the entire room. Now, are you going to kiss me or what?” She tipped her head coyly.

  I grinned, wrapped my hands around the sexiest woman alive, the woman by which I measured all others, and kissed her. I kissed her for every day I missed kissing her. I licked and nibbled and practically fucked her mouth in front of a room full of people, and I didn’t care. The best part, Mila didn’t either, because she was mine. All mine, and my girl wanted to stake her claim as much as I wanted to mark her as mine.

  Our tongues tangled and danced until I ran a hand down the bare back of her dress and groaned. Her skin felt like silk as I let my fingers caress her spine from nape to the swell of her ass. She shivered in my hold and then pulled back.

  “Jesus.” Her low, sultry tone spoke of sex and sin. Two things I wanted to explore with her right then.

  “Yeah, you could say I missed you.” I swallowed, my throat feeling like it was coated in wool.

  She chuckled and cupped my cheek. “I missed you more.”

  “Really?” I croaked, my voice still not working properly.

  Mila swept the hair out of my eyes. “When you drove away, you took my heart with you,” she said, shyly mimicking my exact feelings that night. “Simple as that. You had to come back because otherwise I wouldn’t have made it.”

  I ran my thumb across her bottom lip. “Never again.”

  “You said that last time,” she warned. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I can’t live through it a third time.”

  I lifted her hands and kissed the tops and then proceeded to kiss each knuckle. “I can’t give you anything more than my word. I know that’s shit after what we’ve gone through, but I’m different. I’ve learned. After meeting my dad, dealing with my career, and taking ownership of this gallery, I realized that nothing in this world was going to make me a whole person, unless I had you to share it with.”

  “Atlas,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

  “I’m prepared to take the time to win you back, to do right by you. Tonight, this…” I gestured with one hand around the room. “It’s only my first attempt.”

  She smiled. “Pretty good one. How did you come to own the gallery anyway? Last month you were a struggling artist like me.”

  “Turns out the old man was good for something. He left me Second Chances Gallery. Aptly named, don’t you think?”

  That made her laugh. “I would say so.”

  “And Ingrid tells me that your paintings are selling like wildfire.”

  She grinned and looked around the room. People had left our little spectacle to mill around, partake of the food and drink, and enjoy the art. “Yeah, well, most of them are of you. Who wouldn’t want a sexy specimen like yourself, naked, hanging on their wall?”

  I chuckled and then pulled her back into my arms. “Are we going to be okay?” I asked, hope lacing every edge of my words.

  Mila ran her hands down the lapels of my jacket. “I don’t know. I’d like to think we are.”

  “I’m never going to stop trying to make things right.”

  She pressed her forehead to mine. “This was a pretty great way to bridge the gap, curly.”

  “I love you, Mila. So fucking much, and baby, I’m sorry. I promise never to abandon you again. Please forgive me. Love me again. Be with me again. Be an us. Whatever that looks like.”

  She scraped her fingernails over my scalp, and I shivered, my dick perking up and taking notice.

  “Okay,” she whispered so low I could barely hear her.

  “Okay? That’s it?” I confirmed.

  “That’s it. I love you, and I’m not just going to stop loving you because we had a falling out. A pretty big falling out, but that doesn’t change that I don’t want to live my life or create art in a world that you’re not in. I’m not even sure I could anymore.”

  I kissed her forehead so softly. “Me either. I love you.” I kissed her lips hard and fast. “I love you.” Kiss to her right cheek. “I’ll never stop loving you.” Kiss to her left cheek.

  “You better not. Now come on.” She laced her fingers with mine. “I’ve got some new paintings to show you, and I want to hear all about Second Chances Gallery and your work with Knight & Day Productions.”

  I looped my free arm around my girl and kissed her temple as she led me over to one side of the gallery. “You’ve got it, wildcat.”

  “No, but I do have you.” She smiled and grinned up at me.

  “This is true. This is definitely true.”

  Epilogue

  Six months later…

  “Wait, wait, don’t you dare change it!” I slapped Atlas’s hand away from the radio dial in his new Alfa Romeo 4C Spider. Boys and their toys…yeesh.

  He groaned and changed gears and sped forward toward Second Chances. “Not again. Please God, make it stop!”

  I squinted at him and turned my song up. Way up. “Wildcat” was playing on the radio. Knight & Day Productions had let Atlas pick the talent that he wanted performing his songs. The twenty-two-year-old singing my song had added an entirely new level to it. His voice was far richer than his age in years, and during the time Atlas worked with him, the love of his young life had broken up with him. That gave the guy an extra depth to the lyrics, and it showed in his rendition.

  “It’s on all the time. I’m tired of it.” Atlas flicked the turn signal and sped around the corner as if the car was on rails.

  I braced my arm on the dash and held onto the “oh-shit bar” to keep my body from slamming into the console and then the door. “Do you have to drive the damn thing like you stole it?” I growled, righting myself and pushing down my dress that had ridden up.

  He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Yes. This car is sex on wheels.”

  I snorted. “I’ll remember that the next time you want to take a ride in me.”

  Atlas moved his hand from the gearshift to my thigh where he started pulling up my dress. “You know, we haven’t christened her.” His voice took on a seductive tone.

  I shoved his hand away. “And we’re never going to, because you’re going to kill us before we ever even get the chance! Keep your eyes on the road, pervert, and not on my dress.”

  He pursed his lips and shifted into fourth gear. The car jumped forward as if it had been given a power boost.

  “Really?” I quipped.

  Atlas laughed. “Wildcat, you need to relax and enjoy the ride.”

  “I would if you didn’t act like this thing was a race car and all of San Francisco was your racetrack,” I protested as he whipped around another corner.

  He slowed down as traffic got thicker the closer we got to downtown San Francisco where the gallery was located. “Babe, seriously, relax.”

  I cringed and turned up the radio, singing along with the platinum hit that had been written for me.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re tone-deaf?”

  I opened my mouth, shut it, opened my mouth again, but no words came. I kept trying to figure out a smooth, razor-sharp comeback but was failing miserably.

  He looked at me, then at the road, and then back at me. “Hotness, no, I was totally kidding.”

  Preferring to ignore him, I crossed my arms over my chest, then crossed my legs too and looked out the window.

  He placed his hand on top of my thigh. “Mila, rea
lly. I was playing around with you. Baby, your voice is fine. No, it’s great. Really great. I would totally take you on as new talent,” he lied.

  I huffed, working my irritation into a good little snit internally.

  By the time we parked in our reserved space at Second Chances, he’d locked the car so I couldn’t jump out, and then he turned to me. “You know I was kidding, right?”

  I shrugged, playing it up, because truly, feigning hurt was the only ammunition I had when he was dead right. I did have a shit voice.

  He curled a hand around my nape. “I’m sorry, baby.”

  That was when I smiled huge. “You owe me two orgasms for that.” I held up two fingers, and he grinned sexily.

  “I’m happy to pay up.” He slid his hand back to my leg until he reached between my thighs. I wasn’t wearing underwear. He growled, and I closed my legs in a lockdown, not allowing him to get in.

  “But not now. I have work to do in the gallery.” I clicked the lock and freed myself from my seatbelt so fast he was still trying to figure out how we went from his hands up my dress to me bailing from the car.

  I ran into the gallery, leaving him in the dust and feeling super proud of myself until his arms came around me from behind, and he pushed and walked me to the back office. The staff wouldn’t arrive for another hour, so we had some time to fool around, not that I planned on letting him after his wild ride through the city and the catty comment about my singing.

  “Let me go, curly!” I growled through clenched teeth.

  He didn’t listen. Instead he bodily lifted me up so my feet no longer touched the ground, and I was kicking forward.

  “Nope, we need to make up.”

  “We don’t make up! We have normal sex!” I reiterated a long-standing joke of ours.

  He chuckled all the way to the desk in the office where he sat me. “I’m fucking you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He plastered my butt to the top of the desk and locked my legs around his waist.

  “Is that right? You think you can just lift me up, using all your big man muscles on the poor defenseless little woman, and get your way? No way, nuh-uh… Oh yes, fuck…” I said when his thumb rolled around my sweet spot and two fingers slipped home.