Selling Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 1) (16 page)

"It's too early, too soon," I stammered out, unsure if I could even sufficiently explain myself. "I'm still trying to get my divorce over and done with, the last matters settled - and besides, you're one of the clients of the gallery, and this is a huge breach of business ethics. We shouldn't do this."

Of course, I knew that those same excuses could apply to Carter. Sleeping with a customer, or even flirting and kissing a customer, was surely just as bad as flirting with and kissing one of the artists.

I almost wished that Onyx would protest. That would make it easier for me to leave, at least, for me to say that maybe we didn't belong together. If he yelled at me or tried to draw me back in, I could tell myself that we weren't right together, that he turned out to be an ass after all, just hidden under a great body.

But instead, he nodded and bent down to pick up my clothes from where they'd landed on the floor. I saw his muscles bunch and shift beneath the thin, tight fabric of his shirt, and I lifted up one knuckle to my mouth so that I could bite down on it to keep from crying out that I took it all back, that he could do whatever he wanted with my body.

"Inspiration," he said to me as he passed me my shirt.

"What about it?"

He grinned, now, flashing those brilliantly white teeth. "You've definitely given me plenty."

I couldn't help but smile back, even as I stuck my hand out. "Good, glad I could serve as your muse. Now, hand it over."

"Hand what over?"

"My bra," I said, pointing at the article in question, still in his hand. "I need that if I'm going to walk out of here."

He glanced over at the bra in his hand, as if he hadn't realized it was there. "You need it if you're going to leave? Maybe I should hang onto it, then. It would be a nice trophy, I think."

"Gimme!" I demanded, lunging forward and swiping at it.

Onyx, of course, easily evaded me, and I had to clasp one arm against my chest as my bare breasts bounced back and forth. "Come on," I ordered, aware that the balance of power was most definitely shifted away from me. "Give it over!"

Finally, he returned my undergarment to me, although he made sure to get a nice, long look at my bare chest. "You look much better without it."

"Yeah, well, tell that to the general public," I answered, pulling it back on and covering up my chest before he could snatch it away again. "Now, will you let me take some pictures of the big stone dick, or are you going to try and seduce me again before I can get out of here?"

My words didn't dissuade him. "If I try, will it work?"

"No," I hastily lied.

Onyx didn't say anything else, letting me get dressed, but the twinkle in his eyes told me that he knew I was lying. Hastily, I pulled my shirt back on, despite knowing how easily this man could, if he so chose, charm me right out of it again.

I got my camera and took several more pictures of the big stone penis carving, doing my best to capture it in all its, er, glory, without getting too much else in the background. Onyx didn't say anything, but watched me as I worked; I could feel his eyes resting on me. He was probably undressing me and doing all sorts of deliciously wonderful things to me in his head, I thought to myself, wishing that he could be doing them to me in real life.

But no, I'd taken my stance. My damn morality had interjected and ruined the hottest hookup I'd ever come close to having.

After I got these pictures, I needed a drink, or maybe two or three, to help me forget about the incredibly sexy, mind-blowing encounter that I'd just turned down.

"Okay, I think that about does it," I said finally, straightening up and tucking my camera back away in my purse. "I'll email these to the buyer and see if he's interested."

"Right." Onyx crept in closer towards me, a panther stalking its prey.

Don't look at him in the eyes, I told myself. He'll catch you again, paralyze you like a gazelle staring down a lion. "I should be going, then," I stammered out, trying to back towards the door while keeping myself turned towards Onyx in case he decided to pounce on me.

He swept forward, and even though I faced him, I couldn't evade, didn't even try. He pulled me into his arms, bent my chin up and gave me a heavy kiss that nearly melted my clothes right off my body.

"I'll be seeing you again soon, my muse," he whispered into my ear as his hand caressed my breast, making my nipple pop out and grow hard even through my shirt and bra. The man had to be some sort of voodoo magician, I swore.

I left the warehouse before he could do anything more to seduce me, growling down at my breasts to calm themselves, to not make me go back in there. "I'll let him suck on you again! That will teach you a lesson," I murmured down to them, although I considered a second later that this might be entirely the wrong lesson to impart to them.

Still, I'd made it outside. I took in a deep breath of the cooler afternoon air, the sun dropping down towards the tops of the buildings at the horizon. Just get out of here, go send off those pictures, I told myself. Then I could relax.

I pulled my phone out of my purse as I headed back over to where I'd parked my truck, near the gallery. "Portia, it's me," I said, as soon as my best friend answered her phone. "You up for some wine tonight? I've got to tell you about what just happened to me."

I smiled as Portia enthusiastically assured me that she was free, that she'd head right over to Vini. "No, it's not about the money - although yes, I do have news on that front too, maybe," I told her. "It's a guy thing."

I winced and held the phone another inch further away from my ear, trying to not blow out my eardrum from her squeal. "I just have to send some pictures by email, and then I'll meet you there and tell you everything," I promised. "But I'm keeping you in suspense until then."

I hung up on her before she could wheedle the truth out of me and grinned, remembering the warmth and passion of Onyx's lips on mine. The man might work with stone, but he most definitely wasn't made of the same stuff! I remembered how he'd pulled me up against him, his thigh parting my legs, and bit my lip.

I needed to get this divorce fully resolved, pronto, I told myself, or else I was likely to die any minute of unsatisfied sexual frustration!

Chapter Nineteen

*

"Oh my god! Becca, you lucky bitch!"

Several other patrons at Vini glanced around in annoyance as Portia shouted out, but my best friend didn't even notice their glares. She slapped one hand on the table, and I hurriedly scooped up my glass of wine to avoid a spill.

"How the hell did you pull this off?" she demanded. "You've got not one, but two guys both after you, both of them sexy and promising to do all sorts of amazing things to your body? And why haven't you slept with at least one of them yet?"

"Because I have some self-control?" I managed, holding my glass up in case she slapped the table again. "Just because I want to get past Barry, that doesn't mean that I'm going to throw myself into the bed of the first guy to show some interest-"

Portia made sure that I saw her roll her eyes at me. "You need to take a break from that high horse of yours, maybe get onto a different thing to ride," she said, ignoring how I blushed and hit her with the back of my hand on her shoulder at this crude comment.

"It's always weird to hear something like that come out of your mouth, you know that?" I told her.

"What? Why?"

"You know, because you look all classy and sophisticated, sitting there in your expensive outfit with your perfect hair and sipping at wine, and then you just casually throw out something about how I need to get laid. It's jarring."

Instead of looking embarrassed, Portia leaned in towards me, waggling her eyebrows. "Want to hear me talk about the last guy I brought back home, then?" she asked, grinning. "You know, I wasn't expecting it at all, but the curve of his-"

"Nope, nope, nope!" I yelped, cutting her off and holding my hands up over my ears.

"Oh, relax," she said after a minute, when I showed no sign of wanting to hear her sordid tale. "But really, you need to see this as a good thing! You've got two men, and this means two different ways for you to get past Barry!"

"I'm not going to be past Barry until I've gotten him out of my life," I stated firmly. "And that means that I need to sell this stupid statue. So right now, the only man that holds a special place in my life is Richard Albrecht - what?"

I stopped and frowned at Portia, whose eyes had widened at this last sentence.

"What was that name again?" she asked, brushing back her hair.

"Who, Richard Albrecht?"

"How in the world do you know Albrecht?" Clearly, the name meant something to her, although I couldn't quite read her reaction, couldn't tell if it was positive or negative.

I shrugged. "He just wandered into the gallery and started looking at the Onyx pieces. I mentioned that there was another one, a larger one-of-a-kind piece back in the man's studio, and he sounded interested. He gave me his card and I promised that I would send him some pictures."

"How did he look?" Portia pressed.

I gave another shrug, trying to think back. "I don't know - he wore faded tweed, kind of threadbare. I didn't actually peg him as someone who would be able to afford most of the art in the gallery, honestly, much less have the wealth to buy a big piece like the one back in Onyx's studio. But I went back and looked through the old purchase orders, and he's bought some stuff - expensive stuff - from the gallery before."

"I'll bet he has," Portia said, and my remaining patience slipped.

"Okay, you clearly know this guy. Who is he? Why did you practically jump out of your seat at his name?"

"You really don't know him?" Portia quickly kept talking as she saw my eyes narrow. "Fine, fine. You know that big skyscraper downtown? The glass one with the fountains out front?"

I knew exactly which building Portia was talking about; the glass-covered skyscraper was easily the tallest building in the city, with an iconic pointed top that had come to define the skyline of our little city. There had been fierce protests against it being built, several years ago, but the measure to permit the tall building passed, and it now brought in professional interest - and lots of revenue in business taxes - for the city each year.

"What about it?" I asked.

She sighed. "The building is owned by Richard Albrecht. The guy spent millions of dollars on lobbying the city to let him put it up, more to actually build the thing, and he's probably made it all back at least a dozen times over. He's the richest guy in the area, a total catch for any young woman if he wasn't so weird!"

So that explained why Albrecht had the money to buy art from the gallery whenever he wanted, without batting an eye at the price! "Weird?" I echoed back, focusing on that last word.

"You probably picked up on it from talking to him, but yes." Portia tossed her hair back. "I got to find out about it firsthand, a couple years ago. Remember when I put together the bachelor auction?"

I just shook my head, drawing a blank on any sort of auction.

"Right. You were still with Barry, and your little soap bubble of marital bliss hadn't yet popped." Portia finished off her wine, but didn't yet get up for a refill. "Well, a couple of years ago, my firm wanted to organize a bachelor auction for charity. Whole nine yards. We'd invite all the elites and wealthy debutantes of the city, ply them with lots of free champagne, and then we'd get a couple dozen of the city's most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes and auction them off. All the money that we raised would go to charity, some sexy people would get dates, some rich people might get laid, and our firm would get a nice bit of publicity from arranging the whole thing."

I nodded. This sounded like one of Portia's ideas - everyone benefited, including her own self-interest.

"Well, we approached Robert Albrecht, managed to get him to sign up to be one of the bachelors that we'd auction off. After all, I'm sure a lot of girls are willing to look past a thirty year age difference if there's enough zeroes on the guy's bank account balance. I mean, I wouldn't have said no to him."

"Eww," I said, remembering Albrecht's mostly white hair.

She twinkled at me. "I'm sorry, am I ruining your sophisticated mental picture of your best friend?"

"Just keep telling the story."

"Fine. Well, auction went well up until Albrecht got up on stage for his turn to be auctioned off. We were doing well, keeping ahead of our goal, had a good turnout. But Albrecht is up there, we start the bidding, and there's this older gal really gunning for him." Portia grinned as she thought back. "I mean, this woman was a real spitfire! I'd say that she was in her fifties, rather round, hair like a big old beehive on top of her head, but she had half a dozen strings of pearls around her neck, and her bidding paddle didn't even sit still. She wanted Albrecht, and she wasn't taking no for an answer."

"So what happened?"

Portia laughed. "So Albrecht takes one look out at her, sees that she's winning, and he grabs a paddle and starts bidding on himself! Of course, that woman - Doris, I think her name was - she's not at all happy about this, and starts yelling out that Albrecht can't bid on himself. He, though, isn't going to take it - he grabs the microphone from me and yells out that he's got more money, he's going to choose who takes him home, and he'd rather go back to a bottle of scotch than to her! She's steamed, he wins, but he definitely didn't make a lot of friends that night."