Player & the Game (13 page)

She inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn't expected to see him again. She thought he'd be halfway to Charlotte by now.

The driver stared at Keith. “You with this lady?”

“Yeah,” Keith said as he stood in front of him, “and I can take it from here.”

The two men glared at one another, sizing each other up. Stephanie glanced nervously between them both. The silence between them seemed to drag on forever, but finally, it broke. Either the driver found Keith too intimidating or he figured Stephanie wasn't worth the battle. Whatever the reason, he backed down.

“Well, if that's the case . . . I'll be on my way then,” the driver finally uttered curtly.

“You do that,” Keith muttered in return.

“Th-thank you for your help,” Stephanie called after him. The man didn't respond. She watched as he walked back to his truck. The truck pulled off a minute later, sending up a spew of exhaust in its wake, making her cough again.

Stephanie turned back around to face Keith. She found him focusing his steely glare on her, narrowing those dark bedroom eyes.

That man has no right to look this good when he's this pissed,
she thought.

“Why were you following me?” he asked.

“You know why I was following you! Because you wouldn't let me come with you. I had no choice!”

“You did have a choice . . . and I made it! I wouldn't let you come along for a good reason,” he said as he turned to look at her BMW. “I thought you would slow me down and now you have!” He slowly shook his head and then leaned under the hood. “Shit, I
knew
this was going to happen!”

“You didn't have to come back and get me,” she snapped. “I could have taken care of myself!”

“Yeah, right . . . and when I came up just now, you looked like you were doing a fine job of it. You were fifteen minutes away from being kidnapped by some toothless mountain man!” He scanned his eyes at the engine and exhaled a long breath. “We're going to have to get someone to look at this.”

“Someone?
What?
” She waved at the engine. “You can't figure it out?”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “No . . . Can
you?
”

“No, but . . .” She shrugged. “I thought that's what guys do. Stick their head over the engine and say, ‘Yep, there's your problem right there.' ”

“Not quite,” he muttered drolly and closed the hood with a loud bang, making her jump. “I'll stay with you until the tow truck comes and I'll see that your car is being taken care of before I move on, but after that I'm heading on to South Carolina. All right?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.

Keith made good on his word. He stayed until her BMW was towed to a beat-up-looking, small auto-body shop adjoining an old gas station just outside of Wilson, NC. But as soon as the wiry-looking mechanic raised the hood, Keith headed back to his Explorer.

“Wait!” she shouted, dragging her expensive luggage cases behind her. “
Wait!
”

“I'm not waiting,” Keith mumbled as he threw open his car door. “I've got a lot of time to make up. I've gotta get back on the road!”

“But the guy said the fix could take days! He may not even have the car part! I could be
stranded
here, Keith!”

“Stay at a motel. Sleep at a bed and breakfast. Make a weekend of it. Go exploring. I don't care!” Keith called back, climbing inside his SUV. “I've gotta go!”

He started to put his key in the ignition but stopped and stared at her in exasperation when she tugged open the passenger-side door and climbed inside.

“Stephanie, what the hell do you think you're doing?”

She quickly tossed her bags onto the backseat and plunked her bottom on the leather seat beside his. She then gazed out the windshield.

“I'm going with you,” she answered obstinately.

He closed his eyes and silently told himself to count to ten. He then opened his eyes again. “Woman, you are
severely
testing my patience. We've been through this I don't know how many times. I'm not—”

“You're right! We have already been through this!” She leaned toward him. “Keith, do you realize what Isaac did to me? He stole my money! He humiliated me! I can't go back to Chesterton and just sit around in my office or in my living room waiting to see if someone finally catches him. Just sitting around, twiddling my thumbs, is going to drive me crazy! I
have
to do this! I told you that I won't get in the way. I'll stand back! You can do your work.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off before he could.

“I know how to be quiet . . . really! You won't hear anything from me! Not a peep! You won't even know I'm there! But I can't wait around in Virginia. I can't sit on my hands waiting to hear whether you found him, Keith. I can't. I have to
do
something! Please?” she asked, clasping her hands together dramatically. “Please?”

His expression softened. He leaned back in his seat and gazed at her. She could see he was weighing her words, but she didn't know if she had swayed him.

“Do you promise,” he began quietly, “that if I let you come with me to South Carolina, you won't get in the way, that you'll do what I say, and that you'll let me do my job?”

She eagerly nodded. “I promise! I swear!”

“If you don't hold up your end of this bargain, Stephanie, then the deal is off. You go home. No arguments. No complaints. Understood?”

She nodded again.

He stared at her a long time, making her wonder if he was going to send her back to Virginia anyway.

“Fine,” he finally conceded, “then you can come with me to South Carolina.”

“Yay!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Keith!”

She then threw her arms around his neck and gave him a hug, catching him off guard. She planted a warm kiss on his lips too, though she didn't know why the impulse had come over her—the heady smell of his cologne, perhaps, or even though he was acting like a real jerk, she still found him sexy as hell. Instead of tensing up when she kissed him, he instantly relaxed against her. His lips were full and strong—made for nibbling. She did just that, taking his bottom lip into her mouth and running her tongue over it.

The instant she did, Keith jumped back as if she had stung him. Stephanie pulled away, only to find him staring at her like she was stark-raving mad.

Well, that wasn't quite the reaction she expected.

“Sorry,” she muttered, settling back into her car seat and adjusting the front of her dress. “I just . . . I wasn't trying to . . .” Her words trailed off.

They gazed at one another. The silence in the Explorer seemed to stretch on endlessly.

Keith turned back around to face the windshield and put on his sunglasses. He cleared his throat. “Let's get going. We've got a lot of ground to cover and not a lot of time to do it.”

She nodded and buckled her seatbelt.

D
awn walked across the gallery toward her assistant, Kevin, while quickly scanning her messages on her iPhone.

“Just arrived in SC,” Stephanie's message read. She had sent it to all her sisters more than an hour ago. “Staying @ shitty no-tell motel. Detective is a real ass! Will update you later.”

Dawn shook her head and laughed at her sister.
Well, at least she got safely to South Carolina,
Dawn thought, though she also wondered what had happened to make Stephanie want to jump the detective's bones a few days ago, and now call him a “real ass.” She was sure she'd get the details when Stephanie returned from her trip.

Dawn glanced up at Kevin expectantly and tucked her phone into the pocket of her flared skirt. “So how's everything going? Better I hope.”

“I can't believe I'm saying this,” Kevin muttered before turning to face her, “but I think everything is under control.”

Dawn patted him on his shoulder. “Thank God!”

They had to put out a few fires—one, literally—before tonight's exhibition opening. In addition to a painting falling off the wall, a brief power outage thanks to a blown circuit breaker, and tonight's featured artist getting stranded in traffic, one of the placards had caught fire on the candlelit buffet table where they were serving wine and cheese. A fast-thinking waiter had managed to grab an ice pitcher and put out the blaze before the entire tablecloth caught aflame.

Thank goodness, no one was the wiser of those little catastrophes . . . well, no one except a few patrons who wrinkled their noses at the lingering burnt smell near the buffet table.

Hopefully, they'll just think it's the Limburger cheese,
Dawn thought flippantly.

Now people were milling about the gallery, admiring the Japanese anime-inspired artwork on display. The gallery had even made a few sales so far.

“Everyone's in awe, Dawn,” Percy said as he strolled toward her and Kevin. “You did a wonderful job, darling.”

“Thanks, but I can't take the credit. Kevin handled most of the logistics tonight,” she said proudly, patting her assistant on the shoulder again. “And the artist painted the artwork. I'm just standing back and enjoying everything tonight.”

“Nevertheless, you've all done well.” Percy wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Darling, can I speak with you privately for a second? You don't mind, do you, Kevin?”

Dawn's smile disappeared.
Oh, hell, what now?

Kevin hesitated then nodded. “Umm, sure . . . yeah. No problem. I'll let you know if anything comes up, Dawn.”

“Thanks, Kev,” Dawn mumbled.

She and Percy then began to walk across the room. Percy gave a polite nod in greeting to a couple he passed before returning his attention to Dawn.

“So how was your trip to New York a few days ago?” Percy asked, squeezing her shoulder.

“Good. Good,” Dawn answered breezily.

She knew he was fishing. He had been raving about Razor's work since he saw that article in the
Times
almost two weeks ago. He was probably eager to hear about whether she had won over Razor and gotten him to agree to show his pieces in Templeton Gallery. She was surprised Percy hadn't asked sooner.

“So you met you know who?” Percy asked.

“Yes, I did,” she replied.

“And you asked him you know what?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And what did he say?”

“Not much,” she answered honestly, sipping from her glass. “He didn't say yes. He didn't say no. I told him before he turned down my offer to think about it for awhile.”

“
Awhile?
” Percy exclaimed, dropping his arm from around her shoulder. He stared at her, aghast. “Darling, ‘awhile' could be a very long time! I'd like to have him in my gallery before the next decade! Why on earth didn't you give him a more concrete time period to respond?”

Dawn shook her head. “Percy, I couldn't exactly play hardball with him. You read yourself how every gallery in New York wants to show his work. He's the belle of the ball, and we're one of plenty standing around trying to get a dance with him. But don't worry. He'll get back to us before the next decade. Trust me. We'll hear from him soon.”

“How . . . How can you be so sure?”

“Because I'm a woman who knows when a guy is going to call, and when he isn't? I'm not an optimist. I'm a realist. And Razor
is
going to call.”

Percy continued to regard her with an incredulous gaze. “Well, I hope for the gallery's sake . . . for
your
sake, you're right, Dawn. I'd hate to be disappointed.”

He then turned and scanned the room. His face brightened when he noticed someone. “Charles, hello! I didn't expect to see you here tonight!” he shouted before abruptly walking off.

When he disappeared from view, Dawn sipped from her glass and sucked her teeth.

She really wished Percy would leave her alone and let her do her work. She didn't need him hanging over her like this. She did a damn good job in running this gallery, and even if the great and wonderful Razor decided to show his art somewhere else, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

After she finished the last of her wine, she set it aside on a nearby table. She then turned to survey the room and raised her eyebrows in surprise when she spotted a familiar handsome face in the crowd.

She strolled across the gallery toward Razor. The young artist stood in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling canvases with a wineglass in his hand. From the bored expression on his face, she guessed he wasn't very impressed with the art piece.

Though everyone else was smartly dressed for tonight's opening, Razor had shown up in a stained T-shirt, jeans, leather jacket, and scuffed black combat boots, like he had wandered into the gallery from a nearby construction site. A lit cigarette hung limply from his mouth, drawing stares from annoyed gallery patrons.

“You know, you aren't supposed to smoke in here,” she said when she drew close to him, making him turn to face her.

He grinned sheepishly and yanked the cigarette out of his mouth. “Yeah, I saw the sign. Just thought I could sneak one in before anyone noticed.”

She glanced at a couple who glared at Razor. They gawked in horror as they watched him drop the cigarette and extinguish it under the heel of his boot on the glossy hardwood floors.

“Oh, trust me. They noticed,” Dawn said. “So to what do I owe the honor of this visit, Razor? Did you decide to take an impromptu trip to DC to check out the Smithsonian, or did you come here to tell me that you're taking me up on my offer?”

He gulped down the rest of his white wine. She expected him to toss the glass to the floor. Thankfully, he set it aside on a Lucite tray. “I'm still thinking about your offer actually. I was hoping you could help me make up my mind.”

“
Really?
Now how could I do that?”

“Well, for example . . .” he said, taking several steps toward her. They stood so close that she could smell cigarette smoke, his shampoo, and the lingering smell of another woman's perfume on his clothes. “You haven't told me what you're offering me, babe.”

She didn't like the sound of that or the look he was giving her. And if he continued to call her “babe,” she may have to punch him.

“You mean what the gallery is offering as far as promotion, or how much commission we plan to take from each sale?” Dawn asked, playing stupid. Maybe if she steered the conversation back to business, he'd stop leering at her. “I can assure you we'll have ads placed in every major newspaper and arts magazine in the DC region. We'll even run them in the New York market. I've got good connections in the press too and a strong contact list. As so far as commission, traditionally we take 50 percent from retail sales, but we're willing to negotiate if you don't find that equitable.”

“No, babe, I told you I don't care about any of that shit.” His grin widened as he looped an arm around her waist. He drew her toward him. “I mean what are
you
offering me? Not what the gallery is offering.”

She swore men had one-track minds. It wasn't enough that she was willing to offer him better contract terms than she had offered any other artist who had their work appear at Templeton Gallery. It wasn't enough that she had trekked to Brooklyn, shown up at the hipster equivalent of a frat party, and wooed him personally. No, he felt he had to get into her pants too!

And she wasn't going to sleep with him. No way, no how! Razor was an artist she'd have to work with, and she never blurred the lines between work and sex. It was an old family rule.

“You mean ‘Don't poop where you eat,' ” Lauren's voice corrected in her head.

But Dawn felt like she was in between a rock and a hard place, and she didn't know how to get out of it. Her mother had taught her well how to seduce men. Unfortunately, Yolanda Gibbons hadn't done quite as good of a job showing her daughters how to fend men off.

“I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Razor,” Dawn said flatly, removing his arm from around her waist. “What exactly are you asking me?”

“Look, there's this awesome Moroccan restaurant that I go to in Brooklyn . . . on Leonard Street. Why don't you come back up to New York next week and we can have dinner there together?” His eyes dipped to the swell of her breasts that peeked over her V-neck top. “Then I could tell you
exactly
what I'm asking for.”

Dawn pursed her lips, summoning up all her patience. “Look, Razor, I can't—”

“She'd love to!” Percy shouted.

Dawn turned in surprise to find her boss standing behind her.

“She'd love to go to dinner with you!” Percy extended his hand to Razor. “Percy Templeton . . . I'm the owner of this gallery, and it's a
pleasure
to meet you, Razor! I adore your work!”

Razor frowned down at Percy's hand before taking it and giving it a half-hearted shake. “Thanks, dude.”

“I'm sure Dawn would be willing to clear her schedule this week to meet you,” Percy assured before turning to her. “I believe she's even open tomorrow night! Aren't you, darling?”

She opened her mouth to say, no, in fact she was busy tomorrow night. She had important things to do like laundry and, uh . . . closets to clean. But she could tell from the expression on Percy's face that it would be a poor decision to disagree with him.

“Sure, I'm free,” she said through clenched teeth.

Percy clapped his hands. “It's settled then! You and Razor will enjoy a lovely dinner and iron out the details of his work appearing in our gallery. I'm sure you'll both have a wonderful time!”

Dawn turned back to Razor who was smiling again. The lusty look was back in his eyes.

“Oh, I'm sure,” she said dryly.