by T Gephart
Figuring I’d make it easier for him, I turned and walked to the nearest painting. I didn’t bother turning around to see if he was still standing there, doing my best to give him permission to ditch me. It was what we’d agreed to, and considering he hadn’t taken a cent from me, it was the least I could do.
“It looks like someone shot a bunch of paintballs on a canvas.” A voice came from behind me, forcing me to turn around.
The owner of the mystery voice was gorgeous. Shorter than Dave, but still taller than me, his sandy-colored hair longer at the front, flipped to the side to reveal his green eyes.
“I think it’s interesting.” I turned back around, examining the work that indeed looked like it had been shot with paint pellets.
He came to stand beside me, tilting his head to the side like he was studying it from a better angle. “Nope, it still looks like shit.”
It was curious that whoever he was, he didn’t seem worried someone might overhear him. He didn’t look like an actor or model—even though he was handsome enough for it—and he seemed too young to be a director or producer. Maybe he was some famous musician?
“So, do you generally hate art, or just Jimmy’s work?” I asked, hoping to find out more about him.
“Just Jimmy’s.” He smiled.
I was almost positive he was feeding me a line but I was intrigued nonetheless. “Well why are you here? On opening night? These tickets were almost impossible to get.”
“And yet, here we both are.” He laughed, grabbing a glass of champagne off a tray from a circling waiter. “If I had a choice, I’d be somewhere else, but as his brother, I’m expected to show up.”
“Ooooooh?” My eyes flashed in surprise.
Jimmy Ferrara was a New York native with dark hair, dark eyes, and a stunning olive complexion. He was a world away from the light-haired, green-eyed, and pale-skinned man standing in front of me now.
He chuckled. “I never get tired of the reaction. I’m adopted. Lachlan.” He held out his hand. “Lachlan Ferrara.”
“Pleased to meet you.” I returned his handshake. “Jessica Dawson.”
“Well, Jessica.” He held my hand even though we’d stopped shaking, his lips spreading into a grin. “I might not admire what is on the wall, but I am definitely a fan of what’s in the room.”
“Thank you.” I politely extracted my hand. “But I’m here with a date.”
While that wasn’t technically true—and Lachlan was incredibly handsome—it just didn’t feel right to allow him to flirt. And yes, I knew Dave could just as easily be making gaga eyes at someone else at the same exact moment, but I couldn’t let that be the reason I pretended to be interested in Lachlan.
Because that’s what it would have been.
Pretend.
“Your date is an idiot.” He leaned in closer. “There’s no way if I was here with you, I’d be anywhere but by your side.”
“Maybe my date knows I’m not the kind of woman to be tempted by mysterious strangers,” I countered, his compliment saying more about him than it did about me. “Do you travel from gallery to gallery picking up women on your brother’s coattails? Or was it just this one?”
“Beautiful and smart, your date is a lucky man.” He grinned. “But I have to do something to keep myself entertained.”
I turned back to the painting, my eyes floating over the canvas as I finished what was left in my glass. I was positive my date didn’t consider himself lucky. “Well hopefully you’ll have more success with your next target.”
My body froze as an arm wrapped around me, a hand gripping my hip.
“Hey, beautiful, what did I miss?” Dave sidled up, pulling me closer as I turned back around.
“I was just talking to the artist’s brother, this is Lachlan Ferrara.” I introduced the man who, despite my disinterest, hadn’t left.
“Dave Larsson.” He didn’t bother extending his hand, leaving it possessively fixed around my waist. “Your brother is a talented man.”
“As is yours.” Lachlan raised his glass. “I was just passing the time with your beautiful date.”
“Girlfriend,” Dave corrected him as I tried not to look surprised.
“My apologies, girlfriend.” Lachlan looked anything but apologetic as he turned to me. “Jessica, it was a pleasure meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you in another gallery.” He shot me a wink before taking his leave.
“Was he harassing you?” Dave asked coolly, tipping his head in the direction Lachlan had walked.
I shook my head, placing my empty glass on a nearby table. “I had it handled. He might have been flirting, but he was harmless. At no time did I feel threatened.”
“Does that happen a lot at these sort of things?”
He hadn’t moved his hand, holding me tight even though Lachlan was no longer watching.
“What?” I lifted my chin, realizing how close we were. “Me feeling threatened?”
He blew out a breath, his gaze locking on mine. “No, men flirting with you.”
Was he jealous? Curiosity spiked in me as I folded my arms and narrowed my eyes. “Why don’t you tell me, Dave? Do you flirt with a lot of women when you’re at these sorts of events?” I tilted my head, waiting for his response.
“I wasn’t tonight.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
He didn’t need to confirm it; I’d seen him in action. Hell, he’d been on a date the night he’d met me in the coffee shop. So not sure why he had suddenly decided to play coy.
“So, how did your meeting go?” I decided to shake off feelings of him with other women and focus on what I was here to do—be his arm candy.
His gaze softened, a boyish grin spreading across his lips. “Your approach worked, it’s the first time he’s said more than two words to me.”
I squeezed his arm, genuinely pleased. “Good, I’m glad.” My eyes moved from his face to where his hands were still on me. “You can let go now, Lachlan left a while ago.”
Dave seemed to hesitate but finally let go, sinking his hands into his pockets. “Sorry, old habit.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” His words feeling like an insult even though he’d probably not meant as one. “You don’t have to worry about me, that’s why I’m here instead of someone else.”
There was no doubt he could have gotten another date, and to be honest I was surprised he hadn’t. But then he didn’t want to seem rude, leaving her to wander while he networked. And with me he didn’t have to worry.
About leaving me or being rude.
“Why don’t you come with me?” he suggested, shifting awkwardly on his feet.
I looked around, confused. We were already in the gallery, where the hell did he want to go? “Go where with you?”
“To meet people, have conversations.” He gestured to the crowd.
If he’d asked me the minute we’d walked in, I’d have probably been excited. Because I was lame and wanted him to want to spend time with me. But his suggestion had come after he’d seen me talking to someone else, which made me feel a little like he didn’t want someone else playing with his toys. Not that I was his toy or anyone else’s toy—damn it, it was a bad analogy.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here to flirt or make you look bad, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I assured him, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice.
His hand reached out, grabbing my arm. “That wasn’t what I was worried about.”
I glared at his hand prompting him to lift it, raising his palm in surrender. “Look, I’m sorry. I need you, okay. I need you to help me with all your insider information.”
His honesty made my heart sink. He didn’t want me to stand beside him while he chatted and laughed with important people, he wanted my brain. To use me for the information that I could provide him with, which was fair considering I’d used him too. But deep down, I wanted to be more than that.
“Sure, whatever you want. Lead the way.” I plastered the smile on my face waiting
for him to take the lead.
“Jess.”
There was regret in his voice, but I didn’t want to hear it. There was no point in him being sorry, he was just sticking to the plan. I was the one who should be sorry.
“It’s fine, Dave. Let’s go, I’ll help you wow them.” I slid my arm under his, pretending everything was fine. I’d been doing it a lot lately, so I should have been an expert by now.
His eyes dropped to my arm, standing up straighter. “Let’s go.”
As we wandered around the gallery it was like I was his chief of staff whispering into the ear of the president.
With his natural charm and my additional insider information, it was no wonder he had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. And the stellar impression he was making was for more than just being Eric Larsson’s brother. And while I was merely performing some duty, after a while it didn’t seem so bad. I relaxed into the role, forgetting the obligation and enjoying the evening more than I thought I would.
“Is there a reason you’re here with Dave Larsson?” Jeremy startled me, waiting until Dave had gone to the bathroom before sneaking up on me.
Hilary groaned, her hands anchored on her hips like she’d been trying to keep him away. “I told him to mind his own business.”
“Thanks, Hilary.”
It had been a challenge avoiding the conversation, and I was impressed I’d managed to make it this long. Our paths had crossed a few times over the course of the night, and I could see the vein bulging in Jeremy’s forehead with his need to know.
“Dave and I are just friends. I’m helping him network.”
For a refreshing change, it was the truth. Although the jury was still out on the friend part. But other than networking, there sure as hell wasn’t any other reason why we would be together. Especially not now.
Jeremy laughed, the tension in his face fading as he gripped his chest. “Oh thank Christ. For a second I thought you were on a date and I almost had a stroke. But, you being with him is fucking brilliant, it will make sure he meets the right people and doesn’t say something stupid. Only person better to hold his hand would be me, but we all know I don’t have the patience for that shit.”
“He doesn’t need his hand held,” I shot back defensively, not allowing my boss to take potshots at Dave when he wasn’t there to defend himself. “I’m doing this as a friend, but he is more than capable of handling this on his own. You really underestimate him, you know that? ”
Jeremy narrowed his eyes, waiting like he was expecting a punch line. When he didn’t get one, he did what he always did and tried to smooth it over. “Of course, of course. I’m just saying I’m glad you’re here. Makes me worry less.”
Hilary sighed, shaking her head at her husband. “You’re so giving, Jeremy. I don’t know how you haven’t been recognized for sainthood yet.”
“Probably because I’m not a catholic.” He shrugged, answering the question like she’d been seriously wondering why.
Dave returned from the bathroom, seeing Hilary and Jeremy but still put his arm around me. “Hilary, you’re looking lovely tonight. You know you’re too good for him, right?”
She threw her head back, giggling like a teenager as she slapped his arm playfully. “I’d divorce him, but I’ve already broken him in. I don’t have the energy to start again.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes, forcing the smile. “Yeah, yeah. Hilarious. Meanwhile the man is trying to steal my personal assistant and flirt with my wife.”
“I wasn’t flirting with your wife,” Dave responded calmly. “The personal assistant part, well the night is still young.” He turned to face me. “You ready to go?”
My chest hurt as I sucked in a huge gulp of air, holding it as I let the words settle. He hadn’t meant it—that part about trying to steal me. Instead he was probably just needling Jeremy because he thought it would be funny.
The crowd had already started to thin, with most people making plans to move to some after party I had no interest in attending. And Lachlan had managed to secure two new friends, giving me a wink as he waltzed out the door. “Sure, if you’re done?”
“Jeremy, Hilary, we’ll see you both later. Let’s go.” Dave brought me closer and led me to the door.
“You’re going to give him a heart attack.” I chuckled, glad things weren’t as strained between us as when we walked in. “You know he’s going to spend the next three hours obsessing whether or not you were serious about stealing me. I hope Hilary didn’t have plans for them tonight.”
“So let him obsess.”
When we stepped outside, Riff Raff—the old doorman—had disappeared. The two younger guys who’d replaced him were pulling valet duty with startling efficiency. If only I could implement the same system to my life, maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess. Although, to be fair, parking a Porsche three streets over and then bringing it back was a hell of a lot easier than unraveling my chaos.
Dave handed over his ticket, one of the guys disappearing to retrieve his car.
“I’ll see you next time you’re in the office.” I gave him a quick hug, pulling away before I did something stupid like lay my head on his chest. I distracted myself further by fishing inside of my clutch for my phone.
My hug surprised him, his hands not having time to react as I pulled away, his eyes still wide as he watched me silently.
“Ma’am, you have a ticket?” one of the valets asked, wrongly assuming I was looking for my stub.
I pulled out my phone and waved it victoriously. “Ah, no. Thanks. I’m just going to get a cab.”
“You’re not getting a cab, I can drive you home.” Dave didn’t so much as offer as declared, finding his voice as his black BMW pulled up to the curb.
The valet hopped out, standing at the driver’s side while Dave held open the passenger’s side door, ignoring everyone but me.
“Are you sure? I don’t want you going out of your way.” I hesitated.
I’d wanted nothing more than to be alone with him the whole night. And in my head, I had imagined the conversation, asking him if we could find our way back to friends. I knew things were irrevocably changed, and it wouldn’t be the same as it had been before, but I hoped there’d be a chance to find something new. Through the evening I’d seen glimpses, small windows of hope that I held onto, praying it wouldn’t slip through my fingers like sand.
His arm rested on the door waiting for me, his voice was so sincere. “It’s not out of my way. It would be my pleasure.”
“Okay,” I agreed, hoping to God I wasn’t pushing my luck too far for one night. After all, we had managed to get through most of the evening acting fairly cordial, I didn’t want to ruin it at the end.
I slipped into the seat and he shut the door, walking around the driver’s side and hopped in. The car pulled away from the gallery, the engine rumbling as we merged into traffic.
It was so familiar, the two of us being in a car together, going home after a night out. Even though we’d only shared it briefly in Shreveport, it was amazing how good it felt sitting beside him.
And then I remembered, we weren’t going home together, and things weren’t the same.
No, I wouldn’t allow something like reality affect my mood, watching his hands locked around the steering wheel as I indulged my stupid fantasy.
“What are you thinking about?” Dave speared me with a look before returning his eyes to the road.
My back relaxed against the seat, stretching out my arms in front of me. “Who says I’m thinking about anything?”
He laughed, pulling his lips into a smirk. “You have a look.”
“Well you’re wrong. I wasn’t thinking about anything. My mind was totally blank.” I did my best to neutralize my face, annoyed it had betrayed me in the first place.
His eyes cut back to the road and I could tell he didn’t believe me, choosing to drop it as he continued to drive in silence.
And suddenly the situation had become very real.
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With the date now completed, all our transactions were finished.
There was no reason to see him outside of work—no more obligations to fill—and that thought alone was enough to terrify me.
Our relationship—both real and fake—was well and truly over.
THE ENERGY IN THE CAR only intensified by the time we’d gotten to my apartment. Not entirely sure what an appropriate goodbye would be, but I reached across and gave him an awkward one-armed hug.
“Enjoy the rest of the weekend,” I said, sounding like I had just bagged his groceries and was giving him the change.
His arms—both of them—wrapped around me and stopped me from leaving. “Don’t,” he whispered, bringing his face closer. “Don’t pretend with me.”
I should have mumbled something incoherent, said goodbye and got the hell out of Dodge while I still had possession of my faculties. That would have been the smart thing to do. Instead I lifted my eyes—bad move.
He was so close, every part of him overwhelming me in the tiny space of the car.
“Dave.” I said his name because I wasn’t capable of saying much else.
He brought his mouth closer, skirting the edges of my lips. He didn’t kiss me though, just hovered, driving me crazy. “Invite me in.”
It was a bad idea.
Terrible.
Completely the wrong thing to do.
“You want to come into my apartment?” I asked like a moron because stalling for two minutes while I got clarification would suddenly make it easier to resist him.
“Just to talk, I promise.” His thumb caressed my cheek, not convincing me it was talking he had on his mind. “But either way, we need to be done with this bullshit between us.”
On that, we could agree.
I wanted the chance to apologize and see if there was a way to set it right. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do that, but I knew getting out of the car and leaving things as they were wasn’t an option.
“Dave, come inside with me.”
He slowly released me, taking away his beautiful lips as he undid his seatbelt. I quickly undid mine, exiting the car, hoping the night air might clear my head.