I’m perched in the eyrie, my little half loft overlooking the kitchen, looking critically at the ‘Vincent’ portrait I’ve been slaving over since I got home last night. As I’d noted, the problem I’m having is capturing those eyes—
“Stop working and come eat. And then you can tell me why you’re shying away from the big break you’ve been waiting for and what sounds like some seriously hot sex. I saw Vincent Blake, and that man is F.I.N.E.”
I sigh and drop my paintbrush, making my way downstairs and to the breakfast table.
“He’s…”
I don’t have the right words to explain why getting involved with Vincent would be a bad idea.
“Hot?” she prompts, glaring until I start eating.
“Very,” I answer around a mouthful of eggs.
“Intelligent?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have all his own teeth?”
I snort and choke on my eggs, shaking my head when she giggles and claps her teeth at me.
“Of course.”
“Then explain to me why you are refusing to go out with a guy who is hot, smart, has a boatload of money, and—”
“I don’t want to be Sissy Bennet, pampered girlfriend and hobby artist. If I’d wanted that I might as well have stayed in Texas with my family and accepted Daddy’s trust fund money. I want…”
Bee nods when I trail off, and I know she gets it. I come from a rich, prestigious branch of Texas’s elite. My father owns and runs the Bar Three, a huge cattle ranch that’s been in the family since his ancestors stepped off the Mayflower.
Bee herself is the daughter of an oil baron. We live in an apartment owned by her brother Jeffrey, for Pete’s sake.
She, more than anyone, understands the drive to escape the yoke of being the daughter of a rich man. That’s why we’re still best friends after meeting at our interviews for Angie’s Angels.
We’re kindred spirits just trying to make it on our own. If it’s hard and we just manage to scrape rent together most months…well, at least we’ve managed not to dip into the free money our parents throw at us.
It’s not easy though, not when I know one phone call from Daddy will have me featured in some of New York’s most prestigious galleries.
“I get it. Daddy tried to give me the VP position in Jeff’s company last week. It took an hour to explain to him why I’m taking night school to get my degree and find my own way. I swear…”
“Yup. So now you understand why I can’t do this whole Vincent thing. My dad will hear about it and come running to New York, and I kind of get the impression Vincent isn’t looking for a quick fling.”
I’m not either. I mean, I’m not into casual sex or one night stands, I just don’t want a relationship right now. What I want is to make a success of myself without my father’s influence. Or the man I happen to be sleeping with.
“So what are you going to do?”
“You working tonight?”
“Yeah. And then I’m staying over at Eric’s through the weekend.”
“Good, then you won’t have to ignore the buzzer when he shows up and I’m not here.”
We finish breakfast and I go back to work, hating myself for the cowardice I’m displaying, but knowing that saying no to Vincent face to face is not possible.
***
I trudge up the stairs at two in the morning after a truly grueling eight hour shift at The Thirsty Jackal. Having two jobs and painting all night does not give me much time for sleep, but short of living off my family I’m just glad I make enough money tending bar to keep a roof over my head and food on the table.
I’m so tired I bypass the stairs and slump into the elevator, closing my eyes against the fatigue dogging me as I rise to the third floor and stumble my way to my door.
I toss my bag and coat in the general vicinity of the entrance table and walk to the refrigerator in the dark, needing nothing more than a glass of milk and my bed.
“You stood me up.”
The scream that leaves me as a lamp clicks on to reveal a very pissed off Vincent sounds almost bloodcurdling. Thank God the nearest neighbor is a floor down and deaf as a post, or I’d be dealing with cops.
“Jesus Christ, what the fu—”
My heart is pounding so hard my chest hurts, and yet I can’t stop the cheeky grin twisting at my mouth when he rises and stalks towards me, his expression revealing displeasure and the tiniest hint of humor.
“This is a first for me. I’ve never been stood up by a woman before,” he admits, stopping close enough that our toes touch. “I’ve been here almost nine hours.”
“I-I had to go to work.”