“Oh, please.” Dallas put a hand on his arm. “We’re flattered that you personally greeted us. But I was wondering if it would be okay to wander into the gallery.”
“Yes, of course.” Lawrence waved expansively with his hand, the giant ruby he always wore on his ring finger flashing like wildfire under the lights. “No place is off-limits to you, pretty lady.” His mouth curving, he inclined his head toward Eric but kept his eyes on Dallas. “Talk him into buying you a piece of art. Always a good investment, in my estimation.”
Eric snorted. As if he could afford anything in the building but a cigar.
Dallas laughed and then winked. “Maybe I’ll buy him a piece of art.”
Lawrence chuckled, clasping his hands together. “Such a delightful girl you are.” Someone called to him and he briefly turned his head and waved. “Ah, I must go. But I will see you two later. Eric, she’s a keeper.” He smiled benignly at Dallas but again addressed Eric. “But I can see I don’t have to tell you that.”
“Odd character,” Dallas said when Lawrence was out of earshot.
“Yeah, but he grows on you.”
“I didn’t mean odd in a bad way. I love interesting characters. People who don’t fit the stereotype. Or don’t try to mold themselves into an image to meet other people’s expectations. I admire them.” Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Even though he called me a girl.”
Eric said nothing but studied her for a moment. Her expression and voice had changed. Subtly but enough that he noticed. Did people stereotype her? Is that why she was so guarded? Because of her looks, he easily saw how she could be misjudged. Truthfully, he’d pretty much done the same at first. But there was so much more depth to her. He’d only been allowed a glimpse so far, but he sensed the well was deep and he intended to dive in. Immerse himself.
The waiter brought their drinks—scotch for him and merlot for her—and then left to take Lawrence his apple martini. Eric recognized only a couple of people, who were busy talking to someone else, so he didn’t feel as if he had to hang around and make small talk.
“Did you really want to go see the gallery?” he asked. “Or were you just trying to avoid the conversation?”
She smiled and took his hand. “Let’s go see the gallery.”
He followed her like a damn puppy dog. Hell, if she’d wanted to go to Siberia, he would’ve followed.
Like the building, the gallery was larger than it looked from the outside. Still, there were few paintings displayed, along with a ridiculous sculpture of what looked like a worm in the center of the room. As they passed it, he caught a glimpse of the fifty-thousand-dollar price tag and almost spit out his scotch.
She glanced over at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t really want to look at these paintings, do you?”
“I don’t mind—” Chuckling, he shook his head. “Not even if they paid me.”
She grinned. “Want to go back to the party?”
This time he took her hand, and pulled her close. “How about we go back to my place instead?”
Her eyes sparkled with promise. “I thought you’d never ask.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DALLAS MADE A DECISION. IF THEIR RELATIONSHIP lasted for longer than a week, she’d tell him about herself. Everything. Well, not everything, but the stuff he needed to know. The part most important to him. That she wasn’t a model or a socialite or something pretty to put on a pedestal. That she didn’t have a power job and wasn’t on the fast track at some Fortune 500 company.
The admission would probably end the relationship. No, it was an affair. Fantasy, really. But what did she expect? The whole thing started with a gag. For one night. She was the one who’d wanted to draw out the fantasy. Play dress up and pretend. And the sex. Oh, God, she got heated just thinking about the way he touched her, the way they moved together in perfect rhythm.
How did she know she’d actually start feeling something for him? That was the last thing she’d expected to happen. She didn’t go for ambitious exec types. They reminded her too much of her father and brother.
She watched Eric unlock his apartment door, open it, reach inside to turn on a lamp and then stand aside for her to go in first. Yet he wasn’t anything like her father or Cody. She doubted either one of them would give up their precious time to help a struggling Chinese immigrant save his restaurant.
Maybe she was judging Eric too harshly. Maybe what she did for a living wouldn’t matter to him.
“Hey, what are you thinking so hard about?” He pulled her in his arms as soon as they both got over the threshold.
“Uh, are you going to close the door?”
“First things first.” He covered her mouth with his and kissed her so thoroughly, she literally couldn’t breathe.
With a light push to his chest she fell back laughing and gasping at the same time. One of her heels caught in the carpet, and when she missed a step, he caught her arm.
“How do you walk in those things?” He frowned at her black stiletto heels, and then closed the door behind him. “They look great but dangerous.”
“Oh, they’re lethal, all right. I’m lucky I haven’t bro ken my neck.”
“Why in the hell do women wear them? Not that I’m complaining.”
She shrugged. “It’s the style, I guess. Why do you guys wear baggy pants riding halfway down your butts?”
“Um, excuse me, but I don’t think you’ll ever see me wearing baggy pants riding halfway down my ass.”
She laughed. “Okay, and I don’t think you’ll be seeing me in stilettos much in the future.”
Shrugging out of his jacket, he reared his head back, feigning horror. “Wait a minute, I hope that’s open for discussion.”
Smiling, she walked farther into the room and dropped her purse on a chair. “It used to be easy when I wore them all the time. Now, I have to admit, looking graceful or at least like I’m not teetering takes some maneuvering.”
He tossed his jacket next to her purse. “What do you usually wear?”
“Boots.”
“In the summer?”
“Yep.”
“I’ve seen some killer heels on women’s boots.”
“Not the kind I wear,” she said, watching him care fully. “Steel-toed work boots.”
He laughed. “Really? Trying to start a new trend?”
“No, they’re practical.” For work, she almost added but stopped herself just in time. Perfect time to tell him. But she just couldn’t do it. Not yet. It would ruin the evening. Ruin everything, probably.
At the end of the week, she promised herself, she’d explain. No, wrong. It wasn’t about an explanation. She owed no such thing to anyone. She’d simply enlighten him. What he chose to do at that point was up to him.
She took a step closer, looking up at him, her smile purposeful as her gaze moved slowly to his mouth. “Why are we wasting time talking about boots?”
That’s all it took. His eyes blazing, he pulled her against him, and just when she expected him to steal her breath away, he gently nibbled on the corner of her mouth and then lightly bit her lower lip. She closed her eyes and let her head loll back. With his tongue he traced her jaw to her earlobe, his touch so feathery light, she wasn’t totally sure she wasn’t imagining it.
“I take it these diamond earrings are real,” he whispered, his warm breath penetrating her skin, and her nipples tightened in response.
“Yes.” A graduation present from her parents, they were ridiculously expensive.
“Then I suggest you take them off.” His tongue swirled around one of the diamonds, his breathing growing ragged. “Take everything off.”
She smiled. “Is that an order?”
His mouth slowly curved against her skin. “It can be.”
“Honey, if we were going to role-play, I’d be the general and you’d be the private.”
“Want me to take my clothes off, ma’am?”
She laughed. “You’re so easy.”
He straightened and smiled at her. “Disgustingly easy, I know.” He cupped her shoulder, wedging his fingers under the slim strap of her dress. Slowly he slid the fabric down and then he did the same with her other strap.
She undid his red silk tie, impatient when she had trouble with the knot, then pulled it from under his collar. He didn’t try to help but just stared at her, the de sire in his eyes so potent, it seemed to coat her skin like warm honey clinging to a biscuit.
When she tried to unbutton his shirt, he gently shoved her hands aside and reached around to unzip her dress. He pulled the zipper down halfway and then slipped his hands inside and stroked his palms down her bare skin to the curve of her buttocks.
Shivering, she moved closer so that she barely had room to unbutton his shirt. But she managed to free one button and then another. He massaged her lower back, his chest heavily rising and falling, and for a moment her hands stilled, her mind went blank. She closed her eyes.
Standing in his living room under the soft glow of the dimmed lamp, half undressed, his hands molding her back, was so intoxicating she actually felt light-headed and gripped his forearms.