Keeping Her Close
Page 20
“Mr. Sargent?” she asked.
I inched forward. “Please, call me Gabe.” Giving in to temptation, I took her hand and placed my lips on her knuckles. Instead of being smeared with globs of primary colors, her fingers were shaped and polished with professional care. I wondered if she regretted giving up painting like I regretted giving up basketball. Then again, perhaps some things were better left behind in the past.
“I didn’t know you spent time in the military.”
The comment took me by surprise until I remembered my profile on the website. Sal had helped me craft the fake background so that I could explain away my disciplined nature. “Two tours.”
“In Afghanistan.” She furrowed her brow for a moment in thought. “I thought you were going to become a cop.”
“Plans change.” I shrugged and tried to appear nonchalant. “People change.”
She dropped her gaze to her fingers. “Yes, they do.” Tightening the death-grip on her clutch, she turned to the woman behind her. “It’s okay Violet, you can go.”
I blinked and turned my attention to the raven-haired woman studying me from behind her dark-rimmed glasses. I had been so busy ogling Scarlett, I hadn’t seen her at all. That was a dangerous thing, considering the circumstances. I was going to have to start throwing up some of my own walls tonight, or both Scarlett and I could be in a heap of trouble.
“Are you sure?” The woman asked as she raked her gaze over my torso. “I mean, I could—”
Scarlett met my gaze and held it. “Mr. Ferreira and I have a lot to discuss.”
I knew I needed to correct her if I wanted to keep my cover, but hearing my name on her lips sent a bolt of desire through me that was difficult to control. It took all of my mental energy not to scoop her up in my arms right then and there.
“Of course.” After casting a long, wistful glance in my direction, Violet turned her back. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” She glanced over her shoulder and winked at her friend. “And I expect all the details.”
As soon as Violet was out of earshot, Scarlett motioned toward the front door. “Come. We’re late.”
“Late?” I glanced at my watch. “How can that be possible? I’m ten minutes early.”
“I asked for you to come two hours ago. The party is already starting.”
I hurried to catch up with her. Man, the woman could walk fast. “My car is parked in the garage.”
She stopped and raised her brow. “You brought a car?”
“Of course.”
“What kind?”
I furrowed my brow in confusion. “A Toyota Camry.”
She snorted and shook her head. “I thought you were a high-end escort.”
“I am.”
She started walking once more. “A high-end escort in a Camry?”
Was that a jibe? I wanted to correct her, but she was already heading toward the revolving door in front. Grimacing, I quickly went through the rental places in town as I hurried to catch up. “If you need something fancier, I could—”
“We can take my limo.” She paused just inside the door to speak with someone from the hotel staff.
I barely had time to catch my breath before she pushed past me once more, heading out onto the sidewalk. “You have a limo?”
“Of course.” She moved purposefully toward a long, black limo that had pulled up as soon as she stepped outside. A man in a gray uniform emerged from the driver’s side as we approached and walked around to greet us.
“Good evening, Ms. Bishop.”
“Good evening, Raul.” Scarlett’s smile was brilliant and genuine. It lit up her face, transforming all of the worry and stress lines around her eyes. Jealousy rippled through me as I remembered how she used to smile at me like that in high school. Before the night was over, I was determined to have her smile at me that way again.
“To the convention center?” Raul asked.
“No, to the Morales Estate.”
I moved to open the back passenger door, but Raul brushed me aside.
“Of course.” The chauffeur opened the door with a flourish, and Scarlett hurried inside.
Raul looked down his nose at me in distaste. “I suppose you are coming, too?”
“I-of course.” I started to climb into the back of the limo, but the old man put his hand on my arm, stopping me.
“If you make her cry like the last one did, I swear I will hurt you.”
I raised my brows. “Is that a threat?”
“No, it’s a promise.” He let go of my arm and stepped back.
I straightened and made a production of adjusting my jacket, showing him that his words didn’t scare me. It was odd for staff to be so protective of their employees. As I slid into the back seat of the limo, I wondered what Scarlett did to spark such devotion.
“What was that about?” she asked as Raul closed the door.
“Nothing.” I adjusted my cufflinks as my mind raced to process this new information. The chauffer’s loyalty made me wonder exactly what had happened to Scarlett. I made a mental note to do some research on the matter once I was back at my apartment.
“So, Gabriel Sargent, eh?”
I cleared my throat. “We don’t use our real names when we’re working.”
“I see.” She eyed me suspiciously as the limo pulled away from the sidewalk. “How did you come to work at Cox Services?” she asked after a long moment.
“Oh, it’s a long, boring story.” I was quite sure she didn’t want to hear about the ‘Escort Killer,’ or how I enjoyed undercover work because it allowed me to pretend to be somebody different. Tonight was about her needs, not mine. Besides, the less she knew about the real me, the better.
“So, what are the plans for tonight?” I asked in an effort to change the subject.
She lifted her chin and turned towards me. “Have you heard of the Mystique Art Show?”
I shook my head. “Sorry.”
“Well, it’s the most influential art shows in the world.” She waved her hand in the air as her voice took on an authoritative tone. “It’s open to gallery owners, collectors, and the public. Some of the largest contemporary art deals of the year are made at Mystique.”
“Sounds fancy.” I tugged on my collar. Man, how did those high-society types stand to wear these monkey suits?
“It is. It opens tomorrow, and it’s tradition for the CEO of Mystique Art, Rocco Morales, to invite all of the gallery owners to his estate for a cocktail party the night before it opens to the public. Everyone who is anyone in the art world will be there.”
“And you don’t want to show up alone.”
A look of surprise flashed over her features, but she quickly recovered. “Yes.” She lowered her hand and focused out the window. “Look, I don’t normally do stuff like this. It’s just . . . I broke up with my boyfriend, and things have been so busy—”
I reached over and took her hand. Her skin felt smooth and delicate, just like a China doll’s. It was so different from the rough, paint-splattered fingers I remembered. “No explanations are needed. I’ll be anything you want. Just tell me.”
Scarlett frowned slightly as she looked down at our joined hands. “Yes. Well.” She slipped her fingers from mine and shifted in her seat. “Tonight, you are to be a distraction.”
I leaned back and raised my brow. “A distraction?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “My ex is a famous collector and will be there tonight. You are to stay close to me and pretend to hang on my every word.”
I twisted my lips into a half smile. “Want to show the ex what he’s missing, eh?”
“Not really.” She took in a deep breath, then let it out. “Henri was my biggest client. The revenue from him alone was enough for me to expand into international markets.” She shook her head. “Once my buyers hear that we’ve parted ways, they’ll start to get nervous. They’ll wonder if my gallery is still viable without his backing.”
I nodded in understanding. “And you n
eed to let everyone know that it’s business as usual.”
“Yes. I need to show potential buyers that my head is still in the game and that I’m still a contender. That’s where you come in.” She cleared her throat. “I need you to make me look desirable.”
“I see.” Desirable, huh? That could be arranged.
“Nothing improper, mind you. Just . . . act as if you are really into me, and explain how it would be wise for people to invest in my assets.”
I dropped my gaze to her breasts, tracing the upper curves that poked out over the seam of her tight, emerald dress. “Your assets.”
“Yes. My assets. My art.”
“You don’t need me to tell people the advantages of your assets. Anyone with two eyes can see that for himself.” Take those breasts, for example. They were so round, so perfect. I imagined tracing my tongue over each mound and feeling her shiver under my touch.
Scarlett waved her hands in the air, oblivious to my innuendos. “Yes, well, hopefully you’ll be able to stop a lot of the rumors before they start.” She fidgeted in her seat and glanced out the window. “I’m sorry if this is inconvenient, but there simply wasn’t enough time to find anyone else. I needed someone who not only was good looking and intelligent but knew that this had no chance of developing into a relationship.”
“Excuse me?”
She faced me and nibbled her lip, causing a bolt of desire shot through my core. “I don’t want anyone to misunderstand my invitation as something more than a one-night thing. I don’t have time for the drama of a boyfriend right now.”
Interesting. This Henri guy must have really done a number on her. Still, I could appreciate her philosophy when it came to the opposite sex. I had a very similar one myself.
“You just want me to be a . . .” What did she call it? “A distraction. Nothing more.” I twitched my lips in an effort to hold back a laugh. If there was one thing I excelled at, it was providing women with a distraction.
“Yes.” She let out a sigh of relief. “This is all about image.”
“Just so we are clear, I’m to hang on your every word, and act like a besotted teenager.”
“Yes.”
Easy enough. I nodded and slid my arm over the back of the seat. “I think that can be arranged.”
“Good.” She let out a long breath. “There will be a lot of people there, so you’ll have to be convincing.”
“Oh, I can be very convincing.” I eased my fingers through her hair and was surprised at how soft and smooth it felt. I had read once in a magazine about an artist who had sex with women on canvases filled with paint, then sold the paintings for thousands of dollars. I imagined what it would feel like to lay Scarlett down on a palette of colors and create a masterpiece of my own.
“And don’t talk too much,” Scarlett said. “I want you to come across as intelligent.”
Was that an insult? I stilled my hand and fought the sudden need to correct her. Why did I care what she thought of me? Like she said, this was one date, nothing more.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I’m sure you’re very intelligent.” She wrung her hands in her lap. “This cocktail party just has me a little nervous.”
Ah, that explained it. I relaxed and twisted my hand to push back a stray hair from her face. As I moved, the air seemed to heat around us. Her lip trembled, and an odd possessiveness surged through me. It was a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. I wondered what had happened between her and this Henri, and instantly hated him for making her life so difficult. If I came across him tonight, it would take a lot of willpower not to punch the guy in the face.
She slid her head away from my touch, and I suddenly realized that I had no right to feel so possessive. I had given up the right to those emotions when I broke up with her in high school.
Fisting my hand, I placed it on the seat between us and tried to get my emotions under control. I didn’t expect such a strong reaction to seeing Scarlett again. It was going to make things rather inconvenient. I couldn’t very well keep an eye out for the escort killer if I was punching all of the men at the party in the face for glancing at my date.
“What if someone should ask about us?” I asked. “What do I tell them?”
Her gaze softened as she looked up at me. “We tell them that we recently started dating, but you have a thing back in Boston tomorrow, so you won’t be able to go to the show.”
“A thing?”
“We’ll make it up as we go along. Like one of those improve games they used to do in drama club.” She dropped her gaze to my lips, and I watched her eyes start to lose focus.
Drama class. How could I forget? My so-called friends had been making fun of her because she was part of some drama group at school. Curious, I had showed up at one of the meetings. It wasn’t long before I was hooked. While the acting bug never lasted beyond high school, some of the techniques I learned there did. Perhaps that was part of the reason why I was so damn good at my undercover work.
“So you want me to improvise,” I said, trying to make sure I heard her right.
“Yes.” She moistened her lips and shifted her gaze to my mouth. I wondered if she was remembering how I had stolen a kiss during one of our improve games, or one of the many times I had walked her home after rehearsal was over. Our relationship in high school never got beyond second base, but the sexual tension between us was enough to set fire to the entire school.
She was quite the kisser.
Was she still an excellent kisser? I wanted to know. A quick glance outside showed that we had arrived at the estate. Soon everyone would be crowding around us, and I’d be reduced to little more than arm candy for the rest of the night. If I wanted to make a move, now would be the chance. If I timed it right, others would see it, and it would be hard for people to say that Scarlett Bishop was still pining after some loser with more priceless paintings than good sense.
As we pulled up to a stop, I slid my arm across the seat, leaned in close and lowered my voice. “How’s this for improvising?”
Her breath hitched as I brushed my lips against hers. Every instinct I had wanted to possess her, to consume her like I did those lazy afternoons after drama class in high school, but I forced myself to keep the kiss soft and inviting. For now.
When I heard Raul open the passenger door and clear his throat, I forced myself to pull away.
“We’re here.” I slid my thumb over her lip, wishing that the moment could have lasted longer. There was so much to catch up on, so much to taste. Scarlett wanted a performance from me, but I knew that there would be little, if any, acting tonight.
Ignoring Raul’s scowl, I stepped out onto the long driveway and helped Scarlett out onto the sidewalk. Whispers rippled in the air around us as I tightened my grip.
“Let the games begin.” I tucked her hand into the crook of my arm and followed the small crowd into the large, stately mansion before us.
As we walked, my attention was drawn toward a group of young men laughing off to one side. One man flashed his toothy grin and raised his cocktail glass to me. I nodded in reply.
Now that’s interesting. Why would the head of Cox Escort Services attend a private opening night of an art show? As far as I knew, he was not a collector.
One thing was for certain. It was going to be an interesting night.
About the Author
A lifetime New Englander, Suzanne Rock has been married to her college sweetheart for more than two decades. In addition to being a self-published authors whose boxed sets have hit the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists, Suzanne is a chauffeur, a maid, a chef, an event planner, a hairdresser, a wardrobe stylist, a tutor, and a sometimes masseuse. Visit www.suzannerock.com to learn more.
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Praise
Praise for At His Service
“Deliciously seductive. At His Service will leave you breathless in the best way possible.”—Lisa Renee Jones, N
ew York Times bestselling author of the Inside Out series
“A forbidden affair, a masterfull hero . . . oh baby, get ready for some real heat!”—Opal Carew, New York Times bestselling author
Praise for For His Pleasure
“A fast-paced plot, appealing lovers awakening to their true feelings, unnerving antagonists, and entertaining sex scenes make this an absorbing, satisfying romance.”—Publishers Weekly
Books by Suzanne Rock
Protecting His Interests
Keeping Her Close
At His Service
For His Pleasure
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
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
Excerpt: PROTECTING HIS INTEREST
About the Author
Praise
Books by Suzanne Rock
Copyright Page