She took one look at her face, and winced. Digging through her purse, she found her compact and lip gloss, and started repairing the damage. Her naturally wavy auburn hair was still secured in its loose topknot, and was artfully sexy. And she had a nice flush to her cheeks, but she absolutely needed to powder her nose, to hide the sprinkling of freckles that stood out. Re-applying gloss to her full lips, she glanced at her light hazel eyes to see if any of the mascara on her already long dark eyelashes was running.
Nope. Still good.
She straightened her cream colored pencil skirt, and smoothed down the sleeveless fitted burgundy top that fit her curvy but petite figure perfectly. Then she spun her foot on its toe, and checked out her shoes. Brian Atwood taupe suede peep toe pumps, with a gold textured design overlay. Fortunately, they had survived the rain thanks to her umbrella...which was good, since she practically had to take out an insurance policy when she bought them.
She sighed. Shoes were definitely her vice.
She looked at herself in the mirror, wistfully thought of Hot Limo Man once more, and let go of a deep breath.
After one last glance at herself, she opened the door to head back into the main part of the gallery. Time to look at the art...and she couldn’t wait.
It was about 10:30pm, but there were still a good 40-50 people there, and the champagne was still flowing. She swooped a glass from a passing waiter, and took a sip. Now that she knew she would be taking a car home, she was going to enjoy the evening, and relax a little with a drink. She started looking for a waiter with food, knowing that if she didn’t eat something along with the alcohol, the champagne would go straight to her head.
Raising the glass to her lips, she paused, feeling a tingle start down at her toes, snaking its way up her body to settle right between her legs.
Mmm. She had had the same response when Hot Limo Man had looked at her. She looked at her champagne glass. If this stuff made her feel this way every time she drank it, she would have to ask one of the waiters what brand of champagne it was.
Then, still smiling, she glanced up, and the tingle intensified, causing her nipples to stand at attention, and a warm wetness to dampen in her thong. The rate of her breathing began to accelerate.
Because Ryann had just discovered the reason for her tingle, and holy shit, it wasn’t the champagne.
There, across the room, staring at her, was Hot Limo Man. She could. Not. Believe it.
And boy, was he tall! He was easily three inches over six feet, making him nearly a foot taller than she was. He was standing in the midst of a group of people, one hand holding a drink, while the other was in his pocket.
And he was looking right at her.
That lazy half smile on his lips, the heated stare that seemed to go right through her. His expression was one of recognition and interest, his eyes blatantly traveling the length of her body, then back up to her eyes. He downed the rest of his drink, and placed the empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter, then, still meeting her eye, began walking toward her.
She immediately became flustered. She had no idea what her facial expression was at the moment, but she had no doubt it was probably one of surprise and nerves, and beet red in color.
From the distance between them, she couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but there was no doubt that they were darkened with intent.
She swallowed, and let her eyes skitter away. When she glanced back up, he was being detained by a middle aged woman. He looked up at Ryann for a moment, then looked back at the woman who had stepped in his path and continued talking, smiling politely.
In the split second she had made eye contact with him, she had noted a myriad of details. He was scary good looking. Dressed impeccably in a slim fitting charcoal gray suit, he had on a crisp light blue button down shirt under it, the top two buttons undone.
And that smile. Lethal.
Knowing she only had a moment or two of reprieve, she nervously looked down, and licked her lips…then took a huge gulp of champagne.
It’d been a long time since someone had checked her out. Ever since Brent had passed away, she’d been so focused on her career and school, that she’d killed her sexual urges. It had only been in the last several months that she started to really miss it. The arousal, the build of excitement. She had finally invested in a vibrator to help her get her mojo back. Though it certainly helped in that department, there was always guilt after using it. She would come, but then would miss Brent with such an acute sharpness, that she always hesitated before using her battery operated boyfriend again.
Quite frankly, it sucked. She missed sex. She was still working through the confusing feelings of guilt and grief.
And at that moment, she realized it had been forever since she had been turned on just from a man’s stare. She couldn’t remember a time when she had ever been so quickly aroused.
She was embarrassed to realize she wasn’t sure what to do with it. If Ayanna had been with her, she would totally be laughing at her right now. Then she would tell her to get her ass over there and introduce herself, exclaiming it was about time for her to get back into the game. ‘Game’ being the operative word.
Actually, now that she thought about it, Ayanna would probably tell her to be coy. Play hard to get. Walk around the room a little, add a little more sway to her hips, and make eye contact with him a few more times to see what kind of move he’d make. If there was anything Ayanna knew how to do, it was how to hook a man. Yup, for Ayanna, the dating ritual was an art form. For her, it was complete misery.
Ryann hated the thought of dating again. She didn’t play the game well at all. She was a straight shooter, always had been, and found it difficult to flirt. She was a girly girl through and through when it came to clothes, makeup, and shoes. But when it came to flirting, it exhausted her trying to anticipate the guy’s next move. With Brent, it had been so easy. It had been a love built on a growing friendship and mutual respect for one another. It was always comfortable. Not that he didn’t turn her on. Of course he did. It was just…easy.
At that moment, a waiter who looked to be in his late teens passed by, and she stopped him briefly to snag the last piece of bruschetta from his tray.
“Hi,” she smiled as she stopped him with her hand. “Can I grab that last piece of bruschetta please?” Then the waiter looked at her, and she exclaimed, “Robbie?!”
“Mrs. T?! Holy shit! Ooh, sorry.” He looked around to make sure no other guests heard his outburst. “What are you doing here?” he asked incredulously.
“I could ask the same of you! You’re working here tonight?” Robbie had been one of her best students at the Academy until he graduated a year ago. He was one of the more well-adjusted students at the school for privileged youth, mainly because his parents were grounded in reality...unlike most of the other parents. His next comment proved her recollection correct.
“Yeah.” He chuckled then said, “My dad says, and I quote, ‘the youth of today has an overdeveloped sense of entitlement, especially those who come from homes like yours.’” He smirked. “He wants me to work from the bottom up like the rest of the world,” he said with an eye roll.
Ryann laughed, remembering Robbie’s father as a distinguished, but jovial man with a bit of prankster thrown in. “Well, he may have a point there. Although don’t knock what you’re doing tonight. People in the service industry work their butts off, and it’s an honorable profession. You’ll appreciate your dad more when you’re older and realize he’s right,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
“So, you’re here to see the art pieces, huh?”
“Yeah. Tabitha Lowe is one of my favorite artists. Her stuff is amazing, don’t you think?”
“She is amazing. Naturally, because she’s my aunt,” he said proudly.
“What?!” Ryann nearly choked. “Are you kidding me? How did I not know that?!”
“Guess it never came up. Yeah, she’s my mom’s older sister. You wanna meet her?”
“I would love to. I can’t believe this! I don’t want to get you in trouble though. Do you have a break coming up?”
“It’s no problem. Let me just get the next tray of food, and then I’ll walk you over to her. I’ve mentioned you to her, actually.” Then his cheeks flushed, as if he was sorry he said anything.
“Really?”
“Well, yeah. You know whenever the family got together and they asked about school, and stuff.” He cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed. “I would tell them your class was my favorite.”
“That’s a sweet thing to say, Robbie. Thanks for that. Your year’s been good?”
“Yeah, I’ve finished my first year at Yale and now I’m working this summer for my sister’s catering company. She’s the caterer doing the show tonight.”
“Nice! Keeping it all in the family, I see. Are your parents here, then? I would love to say hi to them.”
Robbie looked around and then pointed out where Mr. and Mrs. Callahan were standing.
“Awesome. I’m gonna go say hi right now.”
“Ok. I’ll go get my next tray of food, and find you.”
“Got it. Thanks, Robbie.”
As he walked away, she ate the bruschetta quickly, and brushed her hands on the napkin. She glanced back in the direction where Hot Limo Man had stood moments earlier, but he was no longer there.
Shit. Where had he gone? Knowing that he was here at the same event was an amazing coincidence. She was nervous and giddy at the prospect of him being in the same room with her, as well as the potential of him seeking her out.
She shook her head. She was acting like a 13 year old, and she needed to get it together. She was seriously out of practice, and to be honest, she wasn’t even sure if she was ready to jump back into the dating pool anyway. But God, did it feel great to have a good looking guy look at her that way.
She sighed. Well, she was there to meet one of the greatest artistic talents in all of Manhattan, so it was time to get to it, she supposed.
She turned around to where Robbie’s parents had been standing...
And bumped right into Hot Limo Man.
Chapter 3
She turned so abruptly, they nearly collided. Just as she was about to spill her drink, he steadied her hand with his.
“I got you,” he said quietly.
Green. His eyes were green. The perfect color to go with his delicious scent, a warm musky fragrance, like the woods and spice.
She blinked a few times, cleared her throat, and let her eyes dance away from his, then back to his gaze. “Excuse me. I didn’t realize anyone was standing so close.”
“Not a problem. I would happily collide with you any time,” he said huskily.
She laughed nervously.
He looked amused. “It looks like we meet again.”
“Yes. What a coincidence.”
“It is indeed.”
Ryann cleared her throat again, and smiled. “Thank you again for offering me a ride before. Who knew we were going to the same place?”
“Had I known I would have insisted you accept my offer.”
She swallowed, and nodded. She had no idea what to say, so she cleared her throat and went with “Well, thanks for saving me from the dry cleaning bill.” She held up her champagne, then started to turn away. She could hear Ayanna screaming, what the hell is wrong with you?! She was such a friggin’ coward.
“You don’t see guests fraternizing with the wait staff very often.”
She turned back. That got her attention. What was that supposed to mean? “No? I suppose not. But since waiters and waitresses selflessly give of themselves to serve others, I think they deserve to be treated with respect, and not like they’re part of the wallpaper. I was just making polite conversation.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that all of their giving is selfless. They are getting paid.”
Even though he had a point, she thought it was a conceited comment. She was strangely disappointed. Maybe he was just another rich guy, with a pretty face. He did arrive in a limo, after all.
“I’m just saying it’s a worthy profession. I think highly of people who choose hospitality for their careers. Serving others is very noble.”
“I agree,” he murmured with an amused look.
Surprised by his agreement, she paused. She couldn’t figure this guy out.
“Well, then.” Ryann cleared her throat. Again. What should she do now? “If you’ll excuse me, I was on my way to meet up with someone.”
He stopped her with his hand on her elbow, and expertly steered her toward one of the paintings. “You’re not here with anyone.”
Caught off guard by his comment, and his grasp on her arm, she stumbled slightly and looked up at him. Even with her five foot, four inch frame and her three inch heels, she felt tiny. He was so tall. He continued to lead her toward a piece where no one was standing at the moment, as she tried to extricate herself from his gentle but firm hold on her arm.
She blinked, and looked at his hand at her elbow. Geez. Arrogant much? How did he know she wasn’t meeting someone? She sensed that air of entitlement Robbie’s father spoke of so aptly. It was obvious Hot Limo Man was used to the finer things in life. It also looked like he expected to get what he wanted. Perhaps Mr. Tall, Dark, and Conceited should have a talk with Mr. Michael Callahan, Sr.?
As if reading her mind, he said, “Obviously, I know you didn’t come with anyone.” Once they stopped, he looked right into her eyes, and she noticed his gaze moving down to her lips, then back up to her eyes again. “You’re here alone,” he said with a knowing look in his eyes.
She looked away, and began to feel that throbbing between her legs again. Her mind was racing, not to mention her pulse. She was starting to get pissed. “Maybe I was meeting someone here,” she said between gritted teeth with an overly sweet smile.
He smiled as if he knew some deep, dark secret. “You haven’t had much of a chance to see the paintings. I’ll walk you around.”
“Although I appreciate it, Mr. -?”
“Jeremy.”
“Mr. Jeremy, I…”
“No. My first name is Jeremy.”
“Oh.” This guy had her brain turning to mush. “Well, Jeremy... thank you for offering to escort me around, but I really do need to…”
“What do you think of this painting here?”
She tried to get her bearings. The man was so good looking, he twisted her insides into knots, and made her so nervous.
And he was still holding her arm.
She took a deep breath, and began to study the painting. She was immediately drawn to the scene, sucked into the canvas. Tabitha’s medium was oil, and most of her paintings depicted landscapes seen throughout New York City. But one of the abilities she was known for was how she was able to bring a nostalgia to the scenes. Sometimes she would paint people in the scenes, but often times they were only silhouettes. However, even the silhouettes expressed a feeling that contributed to the mood of the piece’s milieu, as in the piece they were appreciating right now.
It was entitled Release, showing a wooded section of Central Park at twilight. In the painting it was raining, much as it was that very night. But what made it feel… sensual, even erotic, in some ways, was the lone woman standing off to the side on the paved pathway. Her face was to the sky, her arms stretched out low by her hips, with the rain pouring down onto her face. Around her, steam was rising up off of the asphalt. The woman looked utterly alone. And she was struggling to release an eternity of weight she had been carrying in life.
“It’s private. Personal.”
Jeremy looked down at her, while his fingers played at the tender spot on the inside of her elbow. He still hadn’t let her go. Momentarily pulled back to reality, the nerve endings under his fingers began to tingle, shooting straight to her breasts, ended lazily around her very erect nipples. She could feel her eyes starting to glaze over.
He stroked one last time, then let go. Realizi
ng that the spell he was weaving was causing her muscles to go lax, she quickly gripped her champagne glass a little tighter, which had just begun to slip from her hand.
“Hmm. I didn’t mean to pry, I just thought you might want to give your opinion on the piece.” He sounded disappointed.
Huh? Oh. “No. I wasn’t talking about me. That was my observation. In the painting, the woman is having a private and personal moment. There’s a loneliness there, as if she’s trying to gather her strength to move on. She’s reaching for it.”
“Ah. I misunderstood.” He continued to burn his gaze into her. “I actually see it as a moment of bravery on her part. She’s finally overcome…something… and surrenders to the freedom of this blissful moment, regardless of how many others may be watching her in the park. It’s aptly named.”
She looked back at the painting, and sure enough, there were other silhouettes on the pathway in the forefront and the background. But the woman paid them no mind. Neither had Ryann; she hadn’t even noticed them. She was too focused on the woman.
She felt a flush begin to heat her face. She didn’t know why, but for some reason she felt as if she had been caught in a vulnerable moment. You didn’t need a psychology degree to know that she had just projected her own life’s journey onto the woman on the canvas. Since Brent’s death, but most recently in the last couple of months, she had wished that she could move past her own loneliness and guilt to fully live again.
The fact that Jeremy saw bravery in the woman, gave her a strange sense of hope. If only she could be brave enough to get to her own moment of release.
“But it also makes me think of chocolate.” He continued to look at her, with an innocent look on his face, as if gauging her reaction, waiting for her response.
Thankful for the lightening of the mood, she raised her eyebrow up at him. “Chocolate?”
“Mmm.”
He shifted more toward her, his right hand now circling her back. How had the mood gone from lighthearted to sensual in a split second? She swallowed. With his other hand, still holding his drink, he directed her gaze back to the painting. He leaned in closer to her ear, and his voice took on a husky quality. He casually settled his hand at the small of her back. Meanwhile the air sizzled around her. She could feel her body warming. Like… melting chocolate.
Release (Iris Series) Page 2