by Lilli Feisty
“About one hundred so far, but I told you most people don’t bother responding.”
He grunted. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Joy.”
“Don’t worry. It’s all under control.” Not for the first time, she silently thanked Ruby, who was endlessly patient with Joy’s constant questions about event planning.
He gave a look that let her know he doubted anything was under control, grunted again, and made for the front door. “I’m going to the framer’s,” he said on his way out.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Joy,” she said in a mocking tone, all the while wondering the exact same thing.
Chapter Twenty-six
Hi. I’m Joy Montgomery. I’m here to inventory Ash Hunter’s pieces.”
The museum curator looked up from the set of slides he was peering at, his gray eyebrows bushy over a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. “Hunter?”
“Yes. I need to take some photographs for an upcoming exhibit at the Cartwright Gallery. I have an appointment.”
He shook his head. “There must have been a misunderstanding. Hunter picked up his work early this morning.”
“W-what?” She felt a cold sweat break out under her breasts. “That… that’s impossible.”
“I apologize for the mix-up, but I spoke with him myself. In fact, you just missed him.” He stood. “Miss Montgomery? Are you okay?”
She could feel the blood draining out of her face—she must look like a ghost. “Yes.” She clutched her bag to her chest. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” Turning, she rushed through the hallway, the lobby, and exited the museum.
Pausing on the steps, she sucked in a breath, blew it out, and tried to calm her rising pulse.
Now what was she going to do? She could rush over and try to sneak the sculpture back, but, knowing Ash, he’d already noticed it was missing.
With trembling hands, she dug her cell phone out of her purse and dialed.
“Hey, woman,” Erica answered.
“What are you doing right now?”
“I just broke for lunch. Why? What’s up?”
Joy moved aside to let a teacher lead a group of elementary school students into the museum. “I need an emergency meeting.”
“Where are you?”
“In front of the museum.”
“Okay. There’s this new place I want to check out that’s just a few blocks from where you are. Meet me there in ten?”
“Sure.”
Erica gave her the address, and Joy began walking to the restaurant. This wasn’t good. No doubt about it, she had to come clean now. She had to tell him what she’d done. Her throat closed down as panic washed over her.
Now she knew exactly what her future held. Hell. Or jail. Or both.
Picking up her pace, she raced toward the address Erica had given her and hoped the place had an extensive cocktail menu.
What had Joy done now?
Standing in the foyer of Z-Café, the latest trendy spot, Erica waited for her friend to arrive. She could tell by her voice that something major was wrong, and Erica had learned that, with Joy, that could really mean anything.
Sighing, she glanced around the newly opened restaurant. Just like all the others, the interior left her cold. But Blaine was right—she needed to be aware of the latest trends so she could graduate with the competitive knowledge that would help her land a good job.
Blaine. Thinking about him sent those little flurries through her stomach. At first the feelings had scared her, but now she was beginning to actually enjoy them. He liked her. He’d been coming over for dinner, calling her, sending her text messages. And now that they were lovers, every time they cooked together, her heart beat faster just knowing he was near.
And knowing what was underneath his long-sleeved shirts didn’t help her reaction to him. Those gorgeous tattoos. It was like a little secret, one only she knew, and she liked it.
Just thinking about him caused her to bite back a smile.
What was he doing to her?
She pulled her phone out of her backpack, checking for any messages from him. She hadn’t seen or heard from him yet today, and she realized she missed him.
“Erica!” Joy barged through the door. “Thank you so much for meeting me.”
“Joy! What’s wrong?” Her friend looked pale, and her hands were shaking.
“I’ll tell you over lunch. I need a glass of wine.”
“Okay.” Erica motioned to the hostess, who led them through an alcove toward the dining room.
Just like the foyer, the rest of the restaurant looked like every other “trendy” place in the city. Sheesh. More concrete floors? And the bar had no personality whatsoever. And the male patrons all looked alike, in their business suits and conservative haircuts. Any of them could have been one of those guys she’d seen from Blaine’s law firm. In fact, there was one particular man who looked, from the back, a bit too much like Blaine.
For some reason, as she followed the hostess and got closer to that table, the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Yeah, this guy looked a lot like Blaine—he had the same haircut, same solid build, same laugh.
She paused as she rounded the table and saw his face, unable to stop the sharp intake of breath as her fear was confirmed.
He looked up. She saw a flash of pleasure in his eyes, but it quickly turned into something else. Discomfort.
He wore a navy suit, just like the others. And the best part? Sitting a bit too close to him was an impeccable blonde in a red sheath dress. A shiny strand of pearls rested daintily around her long neck.
“Erica? What are you doing here?”
What? She wasn’t good enough for one of his fancy restaurants? She touched the amethyst at her throat. “Checking out the competition,” she managed.
The blonde took a sip of Blaine’s white wine. “Are you another culinary student?”
“Yes. I am.”
“We’re trying to lure our Blaine back from his little hobby.”
She glanced over at the man who’d spoken the words. She recognized the receding red hairline and thick glasses. Chip, his former partner.
“Right. Well, good luck with that. I better be going.” She grabbed Joy’s hand and tugged her toward the exit.
“Erica! Wait!”
But she ignored Blaine’s call and raced away, through the door and down the block, pausing only when Joy pulled her to a stop.
“Hold it! What’s going on?” Joy asked.
“Nothing. I just…” What was going on? Why had Blaine been dressed like that? Was he going back to his old job? Was chef school really just a hobby? If so, what did that make her?
And, who the heck was that blonde?
“Oh, look,” Joy said. “How convenient.”
Erica followed Joy’s gaze to a sign that read O’DONELL’s PUB.
“Come on.” Joy pushed through the heavy wooden door. “I think we could both use a drink.”
Numbly, Erica followed her friend inside.
Friday traffic clogged the streets, making the drive to Ash’s place take longer than usual. But Joy didn’t mind; she wasn’t exactly in a hurry to do the deed. Sitting in the back of the taxi, she settled into the backseat.
For some reason she wasn’t as nervous as she had been about telling Ash what she’d done. Of course, the three beers she’d had for lunch had helped with that. By the time they were finished, she and Erica had been downright lively about everything.
So a sculpture had fallen into her purse? It was for his own good. Now he had a big show coming up, and she was responsible for it. He liked her. He’d forgive her.
If he was being difficult, she’d simply use the feminine wiles she’d recently discovered she possessed to distract him.
He’d get over it.
Right?
Definitely. She’d come to realize he was reasonable and good. He’d be mad, that was for sure. But, especially after the night she’d been robbed, she couldn’t imagine him hating her ove
r it. And calling the cops? Never, not after the other night.
Just remembering the way he’d kissed her in the bathtub, the way he’d massaged her feet, the way he’d played with her hair with such force while kissing her so gently…
God, she was getting turned on just thinking about it. She felt a throbbing between her legs, and when she remembered the look on Ash’s face when she’d been sucking his cock, a shiver raced through her.
Stop it! The last thing she needed to do was show up at Ash’s door wet and horny. She’d jump his bones and find another reason to procrastinate.
But now that the images were in her head, she couldn’t get them out. She kept thinking of the way the candlelight flickered over Ash’s taught, golden skin. She kept thinking about the way his cock had felt in her mouth. So smooth, so hard.
She felt her pussy begin to drip with her own arousal.
Goddamn it! Why did she have to start thinking this now?
Because you always think about Ash, and that inevitably leads to thinking about sex.
Scooting to the side of the taxi seat, as close to the side opposite the driver as she could, she slipped her hand under her dress.
Just one little touch, she told herself. Opening her legs a few inches, she slowly, discreetly, ran her fingertips across her thigh until she touched her pussy, her panties already damp and warm.
And then it was so easy to slip her fingers under the fabric and touch her needy flesh. She gasped and then put a fist to her lips.
Ah, but it felt too good to stop. She leaned back slightly and parted her legs just a little more. No one could see. Then she touched her clit, pressing on the sensitive nub, using her own moisture to draw little circles there, harder and harder, until she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.
She couldn’t stop then. She slid her hand deeper into her pussy, rubbed her lips until she was trembling. She shoved a finger inside her vagina and flung her other hand against the window, palm out. If the driver suspected anything, she didn’t care.
Hell, maybe he was watching her. The thought shouldn’t turn her on, but it did, and she continued to stroke herself, faster and harder, thinking of Ash’s cock, thinking of the thrill of what she was doing, thinking she was so fucking close to coming….
A shudder ripped through her, and she barely kept from screaming Ash’s name. Instead, when she came, the word came out as a whisper and seemed to hang in the air.
When reality returned, she felt herself blushing as she put herself back together. What had she just done? Masturbated in the back of a taxicab? What had gotten into her?
She knew, without a doubt, that she never would have done such a thing before she met Ash. What had changed? What had changed inside that had emboldened her?
She wasn’t exactly sure, but she couldn’t help but smile; she liked it.
Absently, she pulled a wipe out of her purse and cleaned her hands. Yes, she’d talk to Ash about the sculpture, and then she wanted to talk to him about more. Them. Tomorrow was her birthday, and she wanted Ash to go out with her and her friends.
Her heart fluttered. Was she going to introduce Ash to her friends? It seemed like such a big step but one she wanted to take.
She just hoped he’d forgive her. She’d make him listen, make him understand.
And it wasn’t like she’d planned on keeping the sculpture, it just…
Happened.
And then the taxi was pulling up in front of Ash’s place. As she paid the driver, her hands shook, and she dropped the money twice before finally handing it over.
Getting out of the taxi, she paused on the sidewalk, staring at the door. Deep breath. Okay. You can do this!
You will do this.
All too soon, she was standing at his front door, knocking. He appeared a moment later, looking surprised to see her.
“Sorry I didn’t call. I was just, um, in the neighborhood.” Actually, she hadn’t called because she’d wanted to leave herself the option of running away if she became overwhelmed by cowardice.
“Can I come in?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” He stepped aside and she entered his place.
Her heart was hammering in her chest as she made for the living room. And then, when she got there, everything in her froze.
Ash wasn’t alone.
A woman stood and held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Heather.”
“Joy,” she managed, shaking hands.
“Heather models for me sometimes,” Ash said, strolling into the room.
Of course she does. Because Heather was everything Joy wasn’t. Nearly six feet tall, with perfectly placed blond highlights and the bone structure of a supermodel. Her jeans clung casually to her long legs, stretched tight across a stomach that was flat as a board. Her breasts were petite and perky, mocking Joy from beneath a fitted T-shirt.
This was the kind of woman who epitomized all the things Joy saw missing in herself. This was the kind of woman her grandmother would have loved. This was the kind of woman men like Ash dated.
She swallowed. “Um, I just came by to take a few pictures of some of the pieces.” Then she said, trying to sound casual, “I understand you picked up the sculptures. Where would I find them?”
“Still locked in my truck.”
“Great! I mean, good. I can take some pictures while you, er, visit with your friend.” The supermodel in the tight-fitting jeans.
Today Joy wore a floral skirt, a silky ivory blouse, and a tweed vest. On her feet were brown knee-high boots that she’d purchased that day with Ruby. The outfit had seemed bohemian and cool when she’d put it on, but now she felt frumpy next to Heather’s casual elegance.
Ash shifted on the sofa. “Actually, it’s all packed up. Come back later tonight?”
“I’m pretty busy later. I’m sure I can manage now. Can I have the keys to your truck?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I need to unpack it myself.” Ignoring her statement, he said, “Come around later. I’ll be ready for you.”
Come by later. She knew what that meant, and damn it to hell, she couldn’t repress a jolt of lovely anticipation at the thought.
Focus! “I’m really busy. Can I just do it now?”
“Later.” She knew that was the end of the discussion. Damn it! Now what?
He turned to Heather. “Joy works for the Cartwright Gallery and is curating a show for me next week. You should come to the opening reception, Heather.” He turned to Joy. “Do you have any postcards with the reception information on you?”
“Um, I think so,” she said, digging through her bag. Great. Heather’s coming to the show. Why doesn’t he just bring her as his date? They could be supermodels together—
“Don’t bother,” Heather said.
Joy looked up to see her lift a tiny clutch off the sofa. She unsnapped it with a click, and her long, dainty fingers reached inside and plucked out a business card.
“Why don’t you just e-mail me the information?” Heather said.
“Oh, okay. Thanks.” Joy took the card and dropped it in her bag. She couldn’t help but notice the way Heather eyed her purse with a look of anxiety, as if the card would never be seen again.
“So, anyway,” Heather said. “I was really hoping you could take some pictures of me for my boyfriend.”
“What kind of pictures?” Ash asked.
“Something sexy. Remember that shot of me you did where I was tied in a total-body harness? I think I was wearing the leather bra and panties and those really hot stilettos.”
Joy dug her Tums out of her bag and popped one into her mouth.
“Yeah, sure,” Ash was saying. “I loved that shot.”
“I was thinking something like that, but instead of leather maybe some transparent lingerie. Oh, can we do one with the spreader bar?”
“I need to go to the bathroom,” Joy announced.
Ash and Heather just looked at her.
“So… I’ll go. To the bathroom.” She turned and went to
the downstairs bathroom. Once inside, she collapsed on the toilet seat and threw her head into her hands. She couldn’t help but think about what Ruby had told her, that Ash had cheated on her. If he was taking sexy shots of women like that all the time, if he was tying them, his hands on their perfect bodies, his eyes always staring at submissive, feminine perfection—
Her stomach lurched, and for a second she thought she might be sick.
Shooting to her feet, she blasted into the living room and picked up her giant bag. Plastering a smile on her face, she looked to Ash and Heather. “Okay. I guess I’ll just be going.”
Ash stood. “Are you sure?”
Joy started backing toward the door. “Mmm. Yeah, I gotta… go.”
Ash started after her, catching her at the door. “What’s going on?”
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Heather watching them as she crossed her spidery legs.
“I just… I have some work to do tonight.” She laughed nervously. “You know, for the show. Busy, busy. That’s me.”
He didn’t look like he was buying it, but he let it go. “Okay. Is your phone charged?”
“I think so.”
“Good. I’ll call you later.”
She kissed him quickly on the cheek and left.
“I don’t know why I freaked out like that.” Joy tilted the margarita to her lips and took another gulp. “I mean, he’s a bondage artist… I know that, but oh my God. You should have seen her.”
Kate rolled her eyes, her heavy eye makeup exaggerating the look. After Joy had run away from Ash’s place, she’d rounded up the group for an emergency drinking session. Now she sat in a booth at Mario’s, surrounded by Kate, Scott, and Erica.
“I bet she was tall,” Kate said scornfully.
“Of course,” Joy said. “And gorgeous.”
“You’re gorgeous, too, Joy,” Erica said.
“But not in that way. I’m cute,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“Nothing wrong with being cute, Joy,” Scott said.
“Anyway.” Joy drained the rest of her margarita. “I don’t know why I felt so threatened.”
“Well, you don’t always have the best luck with men, sweetie,” Kate said gently. “Maybe it’s your selfprotection instincts kicking in.”