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“Not really. I just live there with my roommate because the apartment was cheap.”
He shook his head. “Well, you’re not taking the subway there tonight. The subway is flooded with all this rain and half the lines are down.”
That was probably a lie, though the New York Metro wasn’t exactly known to be reliable. “Oh, shit,” I said in distress, running a hand over my soaked hair. “How the hell am I supposed to get home? I can’t afford a taxi the whole way.”
“Let me help,” he said. “My car and driver are pulling up any minute. I’ll send him to take you home.”
I gaped at him. “You can’t do that. I mean, I can’t ask you to. You don’t even know me.”
“My name is William.” He held his hand out. The rain pounded the umbrella, loud and insistent. Water was splashing my legs, and probably his too.
I bit my lip again, because Rachel would think twice. Then I took his hand and shook it. “I’m Rachel,” I said. “I’m an art student.”
“And I work in boring old banking.” He smiled and let me go, but before his hand left mine I felt it—that crazy zing, that wild pulse of attraction. I swallowed, and he watched.
“Were you, um, were you at the show?” I asked. My skin was getting hot under his gaze, and I wondered if he could tell in the dark.
He glanced behind us at the gallery. “Not really. That is, not as an art lover. I was here more in a landlord capacity.”
I gaped at him again. “You own the gallery?”
“I own the building. It’s one of my better investments.” He looked at my surprised face, then shrugged. “Real estate is a sideline of mine. It seems I have a knack for it.”
I wondered suddenly if Tower VC actually owned the gallery behind me. It was entirely possible. If so, then Aidan was playing it close to his real self tonight. “Do you like it?” I ask
ed him. “Banking and real estate, I mean. Do you like it?”
“It makes money, but it’s utterly cold and unfulfilling,” he replied bluntly. “But it doesn’t matter, really. I’ve never met anyone who actually likes what they do.”
“I do.” As both Rachel and Samantha, I meant it. “I like what I do.”
He leaned closer. I could smell his scent mixed with rain, and the mixture made my blood pound. He reached up and touched his thumb to my cheek, brushing away a drop of water that had blown there. “Then you’re fascinating, Rachel,” he said, his voice low. “At least to me.”
We stood there, our gazes locked, and I felt the same way I had the last time, when we’d played the game. I let myself feel the pure intoxication of being close to him, of wanting him. Of knowing that he wanted me. My body throbbed, and I felt purely alive. This gorgeous man was going to have me. I wasn’t sure where or how, which made it thrilling. I just knew it was going to happen, and it was going to be amazing.
I never wanted this game to end.
“Here’s my car,” William said, breaking the moment. A car pulled up at the curb, and he opened the back door and helped me in, folding the umbrella as he got in himself. “We’ll go uptown first, so I can get out at my place. Then I’ll have him take you wherever you need to go. If that’s okay with you, of course.”
I fidgeted as he closed the door. He was big and close in the car, his body brushing mine. “You really don’t have to do this,” I said again.
“Anything to help a lady in distress,” he said.
The car pulled into traffic, the rain pounding on the roof and the windows. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled high above, the storm showing no signs of letting up.
My clothes were cold and wet against my skin, and I shivered. My nipples were hard beneath my dress and my thighs had goosebumps. Without thinking, I inched closer to the man next to me, seeking his body warmth. I felt his muscles tense briefly in surprise, then relax again. He didn’t resist.
We rode in silence for a minute, and then he said, “If you don’t have cab fare, how did you afford the ticket to the exhibit?”
“It was my roommate’s,” I said. “She got it because she knows one of the artists. But she has the flu, so she gave it to me.”
“You’re very lucky, then,” he said softly.
“Yes, I’m very lucky.”
I burrowed a little closer to him, and he put a hand over mine, touching the backs of my fingers. I felt it like an electric pulse everywhere. “Your hands are cold,” he said.
“I’ll be okay.”
