“What do I say when he comes to the gallery? What do I tell him?”
“Just answer his questions, I suppose,” Jake said. “Most art collectors want to say that they met with the original artist. Soothe his ego. Make him think he’s important.”
“He is important!” I said. “He’s my first real client!”
“Don’t tell him that,” Jake said, laughing softly. “And don’t flirt with him too much. Those old men always have an eye out. If you swish that gorgeous ass too much, you might get pinched.”
I laughed and leaned into Jake’s chest. My mood was already lightening. This was great news! I picked up my wine glass and lifted it, clinking it more solidly against his.
“Cheers!” I said. “To a potential sale, and me becoming a real artist!”
“You’re already a real artist,” Jake said.
“You know what I mean,” I said. I bit my lip. “I don’t want to be a charity case forever.”
Jake frowned, his emerald eyes darkening.
“You’re not a charity case,” he said.
“You know what I mean. You’re letting me stay here, use your studio. You’re renting out a gallery for me, for heaven’s sake!”
“So?”
“So, I don’t want to be a waste of your time,” I said.
“It’s not. You’re not. How can you say that?” Jake tilted his head, his dark hair falling across his brow. I reached up and brushed it behind his ear absently.
“I look at all of the money you spend…” I said, my words drifting off into the air.
“Look, Lacey. For one, the money doesn’t matter to—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I said. “A million dollars wouldn’t matter to you. But it matters to me.”
“Okay,” Jake said, letting the subject drop. He reached out to the plate in front of me. “I think you need some quality control with these appetizers.”
I swatted his hand away.
“Not until our guests arrive!”
“Please?”
He looked at me with puppy dog eyes. I laughed.
“Fine, just one.”
I held up a piece of bruschetta and he took it from my fingers with one bite. His lips brushed my fingertips and I felt a quiver of desire rush through me. He noticed.
“Mmm, delicious. How about another quick treat before the chef arrives?” Jake asked. Without waiting for my answer, he slid down, down, his hands wrapped around my legs.
“Ahh! Jake!” I cried, leaning back against the counter. Then his tongue was inside me, and all my resistance melted away. I only hoped the chef didn’t arrive early.
In the kitchen, the chef was busy working on the meal. He’d ushered me out, clucking all the way about not letting me do any more work than I already had.
Steph and Rachel showed up five minutes after six. Andy was right behind them, a tray of cupcakes in his arms. One of Jake’s servants led them into the living room, where I was keeping myself busy by rearranging the bruschetta appetizer on the plates.
“Lacey!” Steph screamed, throwing her arms around me. “It’s so good to see you! I feel like we never hang out anymore.”
“I know,” I said. I hugged her and then Rachel. “But I came by the bakery last week and you weren’t there,” I said.
“Busy on a supply run, probably,” Steph said, shrugging. “It’s tough. Business is growing, but they just hiked up rent prices. I have to make twice as many cupcakes!”
I winced inside. Now that Jake was giving me so much, I felt bad hearing Steph’s money woes. Before, we could commiserate together about being poor. Now, though, I didn’t have to work to pay rent—Jake just let me stay with him. He bought all my art stuff, and let me use his studio, and—
Andy put the cupcakes down on a side table and hugged me with so much force I nearly toppled over.
“Lacey bug!” he cried.
“Andy bug!” I said, laughing back. “It’s good to see you. Love the tux.”
“You like? I borrowed it. I can’t wait to meet the sexy billionaire you were telling us about.” He adjusted the lapel on his tux nervously.
“Andy, Jake is mine.” I held up a finger in warning.
“No, the other one. His friend. Maybe he’ll be gay.”
“Maybe,” I said, thinking about Lucas Black. “I doubt it, though. And he’s got another friend coming, some musician or something. Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky!”
Just then, Jake walked into the room.
“Hello, Steph,” he said. He bent to kiss her on the cheek, and she smiled, her cheeks dimpling with pleasure. He kissed Rachel on the cheek, too.