by Sara Daniel
“Don’t move, or I won’t last,” he warned thickly against her ear.
Her body convulsed at his words. He thrust, and she grabbed his ass. He pinned her hard against the wall, his vitality flowing into her, and she shattered. As much as she’d tried to pretend she had a full life without him, Zane DeMonde had been and always would be the force that filled her world with bright, blazing color.
He’d come like it was his first time. And he’d nailed her against the wall. Jesus, this was Julianne. She deserved flowers and romance and forever. Not this. He lifted his head and slowly eased himself out of her. “I am so sorry.”
She opened her eyes. The dewiness of satisfaction instantly turned wary. “For what?”
“For taking you like this.” He released her slowly, making sure she could stand. Her satin skin slid against him, and his body shot to attention, as if he hadn’t just found fulfillment.
“I told you I wanted it.” She kept her arms around his neck, her breasts molded to his chest through his thin shirt.
“You at least deserve a bed.” She’d always been his princess. It didn’t sit well in his gut that he’d never treated her like one.
“I can fix that.” She took his hand, entwining her fingers with his and led him to her room. He reached for the light switch, but she captured his hand with hers. “We don’t need a light to find each other.”
She unerringly reached for the first button on his shirt and worked her way down his chest. If he couldn’t offer her anything else, he at least meant to give her pleasure and explore her body. But he liked her taking control too much to stop her.
Her fingers softly pushed away the layers of fabric, until he was as naked as she was. Then she pressed her hands on his abs, laying him back on the bed. She leaned over him, first touching his chest with her hair, then her hands, then her mouth.
He was powerless to do anything but accept what she offered him and moan for more. He was used to being the artist, but for her, he was the clay. She molded him exquisitely until he could stand it no longer. Then he gripped her hips, guiding her down on top of him.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she rode him, sensuously drawing him out and plunging him into her. He felt her shaking, tightening, falling apart around him as she showed him exactly who he was—hers, now and forever.
Much later, he got his chance to worship her body, communicate his devotion with his touch, and drink her cries of ecstasy as she called his name. Then with her bare hip thrown over his and her hair spilled across his chest, he succumbed to a deep contented sleep.
He woke to an empty bed with the sun streaming across his pillow. He squinted and shifted to get out of the direct shaft of light. Julianne walked into the room with a towel around her body and her hair wet and tousled across her shoulders.
“You should have woken me to shower with you.” After fifteen years, he didn’t want to miss out on another moment with her.
She paused. “Next time. If we have a next time.”
Zane sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed, trying to judge what she meant by that. But she’d already turned away and walked into her closet.
He couldn’t swallow. He was pretty sure it was because his heart was lodged in his throat. “I think this is worth a next time.”
She looked back out at him. Zane could feel his heart beating fast. Julianne wasn’t a one night stand girl, but she had her brother’s disapproval to contend with. Even if she wanted more from him, how much was he prepared to offer? After he’d walked away from her last time, he’d banished the temptation of having any woman in his life on a long-term basis. If he was going to come back to Julianne, she deserved more than long term. She deserved forever.
“I have a lot to do today,” she said, her hands shaking, as she took an emerald green shirt off the hanger. “Can we talk about this after the auction?”
The auction, where she was going to sell his art, because even though she’d slept with him, nothing had been resolved. His eyes roamed her room. For the first time he noticed the four picture frames, one on each wall. There was a sketch of a couple dancing in an empty gymnasium. He’d given it to her to make up for not taking her to prom and dancing with her for her real.
Then there was the sketch of what had really happened when she first approached him in that familiar art classroom. A girl hovered over a boy intently working on a drawing. Although he couldn’t see it across the room, he knew if he looked closely, the drawing within the drawing would reveal a half-finished portrait of the girl.
The third sketch was the portrait, the only one he’d ever done because no other subject could have competed with Julianne’s laughing, glowing face.
The final picture on the wall behind him was a simple painting, a close-up of two hands, fingers entwined on a concrete ledge. He turned back to look at her, wanting to entwine his fingers with hers in real life. “How long have you had my art in your bedroom?”
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she hugged her towel tighter around her chest. “Since I bought this house.”
He wanted to ask if she’d had them in her bedroom in the places she’d lived before here, but his aim wasn’t to embarrass her. He wanted them there, thrilled in knowing a part of him had been in her room with her every night. “And you’re going to sell them?”
“You saw what else I own. Nothing else is worth money.” She pulled a pair of brown dress pants off a hanger and walked out of the closet to her dresser.
He forced himself not to give in to the endless temptation to peel the towel off her and explore her naked body. They would have a next time. He would make sure of it. “These are worth more than money. I gave them to you when they weren’t worth anything, but they meant something.”
“And they still mean something, Zane. They’ll always mean something to me.” Julianne set down the clothes she needed to change into. Her heart beat hard enough to crack as she reached for the picture nearest to her. “But I promised my students. They’re the people in my life that I’m living for. It’s time for these to go.”
Zane bolted across the room and caught her hand in his. “No, leave them.”
She didn’t need him to make this harder than it was. She was as in love with him as ever, and he was focused on the art. Had he thought sleeping with her would make her change her mind about selling it? She hated that she could even consider the idea. “I have a lot of things to get ready. I planned to be at the school an hour ago. I need to leave now.”
“I’ll bring the artwork to the auction.”
“You will?” Her heart leapt. The sex had been as pure as it had felt last night. He hadn’t had ulterior motives to use her heart against her. Maybe after the auction was over she could take the chance and ask him to stay and create something permanent with her. Although what a simple schoolteacher could offer an internationally recognized artist she didn’t know.
“I’ll take care of it. Trust me, Julianne. We have something special here. I’m not going to lose it a second time.”
She wrapped her arms around him in a hard hug, so relieved they were going to work out a future that hadn’t been there for them when they’d been too young to know how to hang on to what they had. His mouth touched hers, and fireworks exploded. Her towel fell away. She stretched across the bed, and he buried himself inside her so exquisitely that she had to squeeze her eyes shut to keep from crying.
“Am I hurting you?” He started to pull out.
“No.” The only way he could hurt her was if he walked away from her again. Last time she’d offered her whole future to keep him by her side and it hadn’t been enough. This time she’d refused to compromise on anything, giving him no reason to stay.
She lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around him, urging him back home. Then she pulled him down on top of her, and pressed her mouth to his neck so he wouldn’t see her tears of fear that this was goodbye.
Julianne was inexcusably late by the time she showered again—wit
h Zane—and finally made it out of the house. The cafeteria was a whirl of activity. Students and parent volunteers were hanging decorations and arranging tables. Everyone had a question they needed her to answer. She was sucked into the swirl of preparations with no time to think about Zane and what kind of future they could possibly have.
“Everything is perfect,” Marco observed, hours later. “We just need to hang Zane’s artwork. Is it in your car?”
“No, he’s going to bring it.” She looked around. The caterers had arrived and were setting up food. An art dealer entered through the front door, hoping for an early look so he could make calls to clients and decide how much he was willing to bid. And she had nothing for him to see.
She caught Marco’s panicked expression and hoped that it didn’t mirror her own. “I’ll call him. He’s probably on his way.”
She walked outside with her cell phone, but Zane didn’t answer. She called her house, but no one answered there either. In desperation, she called Wyatt.
“I haven’t seen him. Do you want me to put out an APB?”
“No.” She immediately regretted turning to him and giving him any ammunition for his grudge. “For God’s sake, he’s not a criminal. I’m just expecting him, and I didn’t tell him what time I needed him to arrive.”
She walked to the parking lot. Although Zane had left his car here all night, it wasn’t here now. She drove to her house. His car wasn’t in the driveway, and the front door was locked. She would pick up the paintings herself and deal with Zane leaving her without a word after the night was over.
Wyatt pulled in the driveway behind her. She didn’t wait for him, hurrying through the house to her bedroom. She walked straight to the wall to gather the artwork.
It wasn’t there. She turned to the next wall. It was bare too. She stopped and turned in a slow circle. All four walls were bare. The bed was made. There was no evidence that Zane had been here.
With the artwork gone, there was no evidence he’d ever been part of her life. And she had absolutely nothing else to offer her students.
Chapter Five
JULIANNE SLOWLY SANK TO THE FLOOR. She’d fallen in love with him and thought he was beginning to feel the same way. She’d dreamed that they could finally have their happily ever after.
She’d been duped.
She’d understood the risk to her heart from the beginning, but her stupidity was going to cost her and her students on many more levels. Without the money from Zane’s pictures, the mural would be sanded down and painted over. The art department, including her job and the students’ beloved art club, would be axed.
Wyatt entered the room. His hand automatically went to his holster.
“He’s not here. He took the art. I have nothing for the auction.” She turned and let him see the tears she couldn’t stop from falling down her face. “I failed, Wyatt. My kids are going to be devastated.”
He put his gun away and held out his hand to her. “Your students will be fine. They’ll know you tried.”
Tried but didn’t get them the funding they deserved. Tried but wouldn’t be back to teach them next year. Tried but couldn’t make Zane interested enough to stick around to even say goodbye.
“I’ll drive you back to the school,” Wyatt said quietly.
She didn’t argue and was glad he didn’t rub in the I-told-you-so he was surely thinking. She touched up her makeup and returned to the school. Nothing had changed. Zane hadn’t suddenly arrived with the artwork. She had nothing to show the art collectors.
Except, she did have something. She straightened her shoulders. Her students had fantastic pieces that deserved notice and recognition. She pasted on a bright smile and took a tuxedoed gentlemen by one arm and a woman in power suit by the other and led them to Marco’s complex bright red painting.
The buffet lines were open. People ate and returned for seconds. The silent auction bidding was going strong. She watched Wyatt place an outrageous bid on a pink shoe collage picture he had absolutely no affinity for. God, she loved her brother.
The auction wasn’t going to be the amazing crowning achievement she’d hoped for, but her students were going to get the supplies they needed, and she might be able to persuade the school to keep her job if she agreed to go part-time. She could apply to teach some park district art classes to fill her personal financial gaps.
“Hold the door open.”
Julianne’s head snapped up, just as it had when Zane had arrived yesterday afternoon. This time he had two men with him, wielding an oversized canvas covered with a drop cloth.
She jumped to her feet, but Marco was closer to the door. The men came through, and then Wyatt went out, striding toward Zane. She hurried after them, intent on separating what was sure to be a bloody fight.
Just as she got to the glass doors, Wyatt and Zane walked toward her, carrying a second canvas covered with another drop cloth. The cafeteria buzzed with activity. People stood, anxious for a look at what was under the sheets. Wyatt, Marco, and Zane’s workers positioned the canvases until Zane was satisfied.
One of the men roped off the area, so no one could get close enough to touch. Then Zane carefully removed the cloth, revealing bold, daring Zane DeMonde art that took her breath away.
He turned and faced the crowd. “I know these weren’t the originals you were promised.” His gaze seemed to touch everyone but her. “But I think you’ll find they’re exactly what you’re looking for. Bid generously. All proceeds go to the Dentonville High School art department.”
Finally his gaze turned to her, and he gave her the slightest of nods, acknowledging no doubt that he’d fulfilled his promise to deliver his art—if not the pieces he knew she’d expected. Already, the collectors, dealers, and agents were on their phones and combing through their contact lists.
Julianne sat back, needing a moment to take in what had just happened. She wasn’t sure what she was more amazed by—the art he’d gifted them or Zane himself. On second thought, Zane. It was no contest.
He ducked under the ropes, but didn’t come to her. She could hear him explaining to the professionals and students alike the type of paint and brush techniques he’d used. Then he relieved the focus from himself by turning the tables on her students.
He accompanied them to the silent auction area. He studied each work of art, nodding and asking the students questions, as if each of their masterpieces was just as important as the ones he’d unveiled. And they were.
“You still love him.” Wyatt walked over to stand behind her shoulder. It wasn’t a question.
“I never stopped.”
He knelt next to her chair. “I don’t say this very often, but I’ve been wrong. I’m sorry. I’m not going to come between you again.”
She pressed her knuckles to her mouth, relieved more than she could say because if he did try to break them apart, she knew without a doubt she would side with Zane. She turned to him. “You’re always going to be my favorite brother.”
“Your only brother,” he reminded her drily.
“That too.” She laughed and hugged him. When she pulled back, she found herself surrounded by parents and students who wanted to congratulate her on her amazing coup of bringing in the latest Zane DeMonde art. No matter how much she protested, they seemed to believe this had been her plan all along.
The bidding was fierce for Zane’s art and brought in more money for her art department than she’d dreamed possible. Zane arranged to have the canvases delivered to the winners, and his employees covered the paintings and took them away.
Townspeople and gallery owners collected their winnings from the silent auction. Wyatt shook Zane’s hand, exchanging words that Julianne couldn’t hear before he left the school with two pen and ink sketches and the shoe collage.
When the last of the guests left and the caterers packed up the serving dishes, she stood on a ladder and peeled away the red streamers and auction banner spanning the cafeteria. A hand gently covered her calf. She l
ooked down and saw Zane looking up at her, his rugged face earnestly serious.
She hadn’t spoken to him since the shower this morning. So much had happened that she didn’t know what to say. Shakily, she climbed down the ladder. He held out his arms when she was two steps from the bottom.
She took the invitation, diving against his solid chest and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”
“Sorry I was late. It took longer to get the canvases packed than I thought.”
He could have called, but it no longer mattered. She clung to him, taking refuge in the strong arms holding her. “What did you do with the art in my bedroom?”
“They’re in the guest room closet. I was afraid you’d come back for them and auction them off if I was late.”
“I did. I just couldn’t find them.”
He closed his eyes and touched his forehead to hers. “I want you to keep them. To me, they’re a symbol of us.”
“To me too. I thought I lost both you and the symbol this time.”
His breath came in ragged, and his face pinched in pain. He opened his eyes and looked at her with naked honesty. “I didn’t intend for you to think I was leaving you. I’m here to stay, and I’m willing to fight to keep you in my life. Your brother and I, we’re not going to be best buds overnight, but we’re going to try.”
“Wyatt’s not an issue,” she assured him.
He hugged her tighter. “I love you, Julianne. I know it’s probably too soon to talk about marriage and making our relationship permanent, but that’s what I want when you’re ready.”
Her heart swelled. “Too soon? Are you kidding? I’ve waited fifteen years for this.”
He kissed her tenderly. “We won’t waste another minute.”
No they wouldn’t. She was already planning the pencil caricature of the two of them holding each other in exactly this position for her guest room collection. “Have I told you that I love you?”