Seduction’s Canvas (Crimson Romance)

by Jackson, K. M.

  Mika laughed. “We wouldn’t be the best of subjects.”

  Sam shook her head as the elevator opened. “Don’t try it. I’ve seen Alejandro’s book and you are a gorgeous subject.”

  Mika’s blush couldn’t be hidden. Alejandro spoke up, “See, it’s what I always told her.”

  She turned to him with a warning in her eyes. “Don’t start.” Then, turning back to Sam, “We’ll see, Sam, maybe one day. I’d much rather photograph you. Perhaps we can do a trade,” she said, stepping into the lobby.

  “You two are funny, but really I’m no model.”

  Mika piped up. “I’m thinking I’d like to do something in your studio. The artist at work. Get some buzz for your show?”

  Sam paused. Now that did appeal. Even though she had the show booked. Getting buzz on her own, without her father’s help would be great and Lauren would be thrilled. Although she still was unsure about something so intimate as a shoot. She nibbled on her bottom lip.

  “No need to stress,” Mika said. “I’ll call you and we’ll chat. We’re due for a hang out anyway. Now you go. I think your chariot is waiting.”

  Sam looked toward where Mika’s eyes went and she saw a black Maybach parked in front of the building. Way to keep it low key, Peter.

  She watched as Mika and Ale made their way arm and arm up the block into the New York night. It was clear they were headed out to a casual dinner with no fanfare. Looking back at the black car that was sure to get attention as it made its way through the midtown traffic, something she was sure that Peter knew, Sam envied them their probably relaxed and easy evening.

  She took a few steps forward and paused, expecting the driver to come around to let her in or for Peter to step out, but nothing happened. Maybe this wasn’t Peter’s car after all and she had jumped to conclusions. She couldn’t just go and open the door of any random Maybach.

  At the very least that could get a person cursed out on the streets of New York. She was about to pull her cell from her little jeweled purse when she spotted the driver running over from across the street with a small bag in his hand.

  “So sorry, Miss. Be there in a minute.”

  She gave a don’t-worry-about-it look. Where was Peter? It was then that the air around her seemed to crackle and change as all her senses went on high alert. Her stomach did a little flip as a hand came from behind to open the car’s passenger door. A hand she instantly knew wasn’t Peter’s.

  “I’ll get that for you.” Low, rumble on gravel.

  She let out a breath and closed her eyes briefly as his voice washed over her. “Really, Mr. Thorn you don’t have to. As you can see there’s a man for that.”

  But still he opened the door anyway and she looked down into the car’s sumptuous interior to see a tuxedo clad Peter, intent on his cell and deep in conversation. He looked up at her and gave a grin. “Gotta go,” he quipped into the phone as he hung up on whoever it was, not waiting for a proper goodbye. “Babe, you look gorgeous.”

  With his now overly familiar “babe,” Sam couldn’t keep her frown from going from her eyes to her lips.

  It was then that the chauffer made it across the street, working his way around Mark to be sure that Peter could see him. “Sorry I couldn’t get your door, ma’am.” He turned his attention to Peter. “Sir, I have that item for you.” He then turned back to Mark, who still had a hand casually draped across the open door frame. He looked up. “Um, sir, I have it. Thanks.”

  It was then that Peter looked around Sam and over toward Mark. He bared his teeth, showing off a smile loaded with anger that didn’t come close to reaching his cold eyes. “Ahh, the trainer!”

  Sam inwardly winced. Peter knew good and well Mark wasn’t a trainer. “You looking to add chauffeur to your resume? Thanks, man, but as you can see the lady is well taken care of.”

  Mark threw off a cool grin. “Is she? Because I couldn’t help but notice when she needed an assist you and your man were late.”

  “You think?” Peter’s gaze swept over Mark in a dismissive gesture. “I doubt that. From where I’m sitting it looks like I was right on time.”

  Sam grimaced, taking in the masculine posturing and the now clear uneasiness of the guy whose actual job it was to open the door, left holding the brown paper bag with who knew what, while these two went at it.

  Besides, who was Mark to walk up on her, bold as he wanted, after not a word for days?

  She mentally kicked herself at her girly rules. Sure she was the one to kick him out of her apartment … still, it was the principle of the thing.

  “Can we just go? I don’t want to be late. Peter, you know Mother is a stickler for her dinner times.”

  It was then that she felt something simmer and the tension seem to actually physically rise from where Mark was behind her. Sam moved forward toward the car and paused at the sudden distinct feel of Mark’s warm knuckles running slowly down her spine, toward her lower back. She sucked in a breath as her legs turned to noodles and her center suddenly went to pudding. She felt her cheeks flame. The chauffer coughed and Sam’s eyes shifted just in time to see him suddenly engrossed with the building’s upper architecture. He saw exactly what Mark did, even if Peter didn’t. Sam leaned in toward the car and gestured for Peter to scooch over.

  “Yeah, man, I can see that you’re right on time,” Mark said behind her back as she got in.

  The door was about to close as Peter leaned across her to look up at Mark. “Thanks again, neighbor, and I’d still love to train with you. The offer is always open. Looks like you’re a monster in the gym. And hey, if it’s a money thing, just name your price. You’ve got my card.”

  • • •

  “Why are you so quiet?” Peter asked as the car slid seamlessly into the New York night. He dug into the brown bag and pulled out an energy drink, popped the top, and tipped it back.

  Sam eased her head from the florescent and moonlit view and slid Peter a cool glance. “Was I being quiet? I hadn’t noticed.”

  Peter’s eyes narrowed on her before they widened back into his usual casual gaze. “Aww, come on now, Sam. I know this can’t be about the trainer. You can’t let a guy like that ruin our night.”

  Sam raised a brow. “He’s not a trainer and you know it.”

  Peter gave a dismissive shrug, barely making the effort to put his shoulders into it. “Well, I know he’s no run of the mill security guy or whatever it was he called himself.”

  “Well, what should it matter to you what he does? And really, you’re letting your inner snob show a bit too much.”

  Peter smiled, flashing teeth so perfect they could make a top periodontist weep. “Please excuse me, Miss Leighton,” he started, the “Miss Leighton” causing her to bristle in a way it never did with Mark, “but I didn’t know you were so sensitive about the man. I hope you accept my apology.” He leaned in and ran a finger lightly along her bare shoulder, sending a chill down her arm that had nothing to do with being cold.

  Peter suddenly leaned back, patting her leg. “Now come on, let’s make this a decent evening. Does it really have to be about the neighbor? I thought we were getting to know each other.”

  Sam felt her brows knit together as she thought she caught a hint of vulnerability creep into his voice. He was right — this wasn’t about the neighbor, as he so very well put it. And that’s just what Mark was, the neighbor, the neighbor she happened to be wildly attracted to, that somehow brought out a new freshness and passion in her work that she had been lacking, the neighbor that was fast becoming her reluctant muse and the neighbor that, damn it to hell, had given her the best couple of hours of her life and try as she might, she just couldn’t shake. But like it or not he was still just that. The neighbor.

  She let out a sigh and looked over at Peter. Ease, grace, and charm plastered all over his well bred f
ace. “You’re right. Let’s make this a nice evening. “Time to meet the parents.”

  Chapter 15

  “Well it’s about time, you two. Where have you been?” Liv Leighton rushed — well, if you could call her socialite two step shuffle a rush — past Tanner, their butler, to make her displeasure formally known.

  Sam was about to chime in with her excuses when Peter spoke up, cutting her off. “I’m so sorry. It was my fault, Mrs. Leighton. Business held me up and I therefore was late in picking up Samara. You have my sincerest apologies.” He then flashed his best “sell it baby” smile and leaned in, taking Liv’s hand lightly in his own and giving it a perfectly overdone, but somehow seemingly natural brush across her knuckles.

  For the second time that night, Sam almost teetered on her new heels. What was happening? In all of two seconds, Peter had Liv wrapped up and when he smoothly let her hand go, she gave a coy wave and an “Oh, I do understand business” as she took his arm and ushered him down the marble hall to the Leighton formal living room.

  Sam raised a brow at the stony faced Tanner. “Who would have thought it was so easy?”

  “Who indeed, Miss Samara,” was Tanner’s only response.

  Sam let out a puff of air and started down the hall behind them.

  The supposedly intimate gathering was already in full swing as Samara glanced at the assembled crowd. As she’d guessed, it was a who’s who of the New York social scene. Gathered around the carefully rearranged seating and highlighted amongst the perfect lighting for diamonds to glint back against the backdrop of the perfect moonlit view of Central Park, were bankers and real estate moguls hobnobbing with judges and statesmen, with the occasional nefarious nondescript “businessman” thrown in for good measure. The kind where you never quite knew what business they were dealing in but you knew you wanted them on your side.

  Sam reached out and took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter just as a booming voice came down upon her.

  “If it isn’t little Sammy all grown up! And to think, I used to have you across my knee.”

  Sam steeled her back and turned, flashing her best venomous smile onto Robert Blake, CEO of BFG Industries, one of her father’s main builders. The towering older man wore his darkened hair well oiled and swept back from his forehead, and despite him being her father’s age, he didn’t try and cover up his obvious perusal of Sam’s figure. She raised a brow at him and put up at hand when he swooped in to kiss her cheek.

  “Really, Robert, or should I be calling you Uncle Blake after all these years? I’m glad to see you’re getting along so well. Must be that new wife keeping you young.”

  Sam watched Blake’s eyes go hard for a second and then he stretched his mouth wide, going into a booming laugh. “Oh, Sam, that’s what I like about you. You don’t take any bull. It’s what I always told your father. That Sam can hold her own. I wish he’d have let me steal you way back when. I’d surely have a spot for you in my company.”

  Sam was stunned. Mr. Blake had thought of stealing her and for something besides a new young bed partner? She frowned. “Steal me for what?”

  Blake took a sip of the liquor he was holding. “Why to work for me, of course. A mind like yours could do great things. I remember the work you did for your father back in the day, before … ” Blake paused and his eyes clouded over as Sam felt a familiar knot form in her stomach. She looked down at her champagne glass. “Well, that was a long time ago,” he continued. “Hey, I hear you’re painting now, kiddo. That’s great too.”

  Sam looked up and forced a smile, fighting to compose herself. She had to. She’d only been at this party for two minutes and already her past was coming up to bite her in the ass. “Yes, I am. I’ll have to send you an invitation to my show.”

  Thankfully she was saved when Blake’s twenty-five-year-old third wife swooped in with eyes of fire that matched her low cut red dress, designed to show off her surgically enhanced bosom. She wrapped a long taloned, manicured hand possessively around Blake’s arm and Sam could have sworn she would have wrapped her legs around him too if she could have.

  “Hello, Charity. You’re looking lovely tonight.”

  To that Charity stuck out her chest even further and sidled a little closer to Blake. “Thanks. I was afraid it was a bit too conservative.”

  Sam coughed, choking back her laugh. “I can see that. Your restraint is commendable.”

  “Now, Sam, play nice. Don’t go making me take back my offer,” Blake chided.

  Sam laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek, ignoring Charity’s simmering ire. “You’re sweet, Uncle Blake, but that’s not my life anymore.”

  “What’s not your life anymore?” Sam turned to the sound of Peter’s voice as he smoothly came in behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Looking for me?”

  Sam had no choice but to lean in too. “As a matter of fact I was. Where did you get off to?”

  “Your mother pulled me over to speak with Judge Matthews. I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

  Sam pulled a face. “Knowing the judge, I’m sorry I didn’t come to rescue you.”

  Peter smiled at her and for a moment she got a flash of how easy it could be with him in these situations. Sam blinked. There was a cough over to her right and she looked up. “Oh, sorry. Robert Blake, this is Peter Moss. Peter is — ” But Peter cut her off, sticking out his hand quickly.

  “No need, Sam, Mr. Blake needs no introduction nor does his beautiful wife here.” To Peter’s lowered voice and smooth charm, Charity preened, so much so that Sam thought her breasts actually grew a cup size and might just pop out of the dress. How did she do that?

  But Blake didn’t seem to mind and really, neither did Sam. Blake was intent on giving Peter a proper assessing as he reached out and took the younger man’s hand and held it.

  “So you know our Sammy here long?”

  Peter seemed to bristle for a moment at Blake’s familiarity, but he recovered. “I do. We’ve been going in the same circles for a while.”

  Blake narrowed his eyes on Peter, then gave a small shrug as he pulled away. “Funny. Guess I’m not as up on what the young ones are doing as I thought,” he said. “Thought I knew all the circles in this town and I don’t really know yours.”

  Sam noticed Peter harden at that too; it was just for a moment as he stared into Blake’s eyes for one moment and then another, before he visibly relaxed. “My set are the rising stars. Completely on the come up.”

  Blake didn’t move, he just looked Peter over in a game of chicken Sam had seen her father do plenty of times. Finally he blinked and turned to Charity giving her ample behind a pat. “Seems we’ve got to stop staying in and get out more, darlin’.” He added a squeeze to that pat and Charity giggled. It was a loud hiccupy kind of thing that pinged throughout the room, seeming to bounce off all the sparkling wine glasses. The final hic came just in time for Liv Leighton to shoot her a look of complete contempt as she came over with Sam’s father in tow.

  “Really, dear. Can we not use our indoor voices?”

  Charity, not one to let a dig like that pass, swiftly turned on Liv, boobs first. “I’m sorry, is this a library? It is hard to tell the difference.”

  Not used to being questioned, especially not in her own home, Liv recoiled clutching her pearls.

  “Now, now sweetie. You remember Howard’s wife, Livie,” Blake piped up, trying to get a hold of his temperamental young charge.

  Charity looked Liv up and down as if she was nothing more than dirt on her new stripper heels and turned to Sam’s dad, headlights beaming. “Howard, of course. We met when you visited Blakie in the Hamptons.”

  That was it. Sam wasn’t about to take some bimbo on the come up dissing her mom. “So you’ve seen the inside of many libraries have you, Charity? Or was it the readin
g room of the local strip club?”

  “Samara!” Liv scolded as Blake coughed in his scotch and Howard’s brows shot up and he shook his head. Sam felt Peter’s cool hand on her lower back and she stepped forward. Out of his reach.

  “Sam,” her father warned. But Blake burst out laughing as he tightened a warning hand on his wife’s waist.

  “Oh, it’s all good, Howard. She’s just being Sam, showing that Leighton spirit. Gotta always watch out for family, ain’t that right, Sam.” He then turned to her father. “It’s just like I was telling her. She’s a tough one. She would be great uptown on that Hamilton Heights Project.”

  Sam frowned. “What project?”

  Howard turned to her with a sharp look. “Oh, Sammy, it’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about. Just some trouble we’re having getting a property we want in the Heights. A few hold outs that won’t budge.”

  Sam let out a long breath and shifted her eyes between both men, crossing her arms. “First off, call it what it is. You mean Harlem. What is this Hamilton Heights bull? I’m guessing that by calling it that, you must want to move the tenants out and they’re giving you holy hell, as they should for being displaced from their homes. For that, I don’t see how I can help.”

  Blake let out a snort. “I told you she was shrewd.”

  “Yeah, that ain’t the half of it,” Howard said. “And for your information, Miss Smartypants, we are offering very good buyouts and ground floor prices on brand new luxury properties in Rockland.”

  It was Sam’s turn to snort. A mirror image of her father. “Well la-di-freaking-da.”

  “Samara!” her mother chimed in once again. This time Sam chose not to hear her.

  “As if any true New Yorker wants to give up their prime New York space just for what? A prefab with power tub jets and a walk-in closet in the boonies? What if they work in the city and have to commute? The cost of that alone is a killer.” Suddenly Sam was waving her hands and she felt a flush come to her cheeks.