Page 106 of None Of Your Business

“Interesting,” I say, tipping my head at the canvas. “Because that’s a very specific hand for someone you made up.”

“It’s just a hand.”

“It’s my hand, Rowan.”

“Don’t get cocky. It could be anyone.”

I huff out a laugh. “You’re terrible at lying to me. You always have been.”

“I’m an excellent liar. Ask anyone.”

“I’ve watched you fumble a fake dead husband. I’m not asking anyone.”

“I’m leaving now,” she says, turning away.

I catch her wrist. “Not yet. I have questions.”

She glares at me but doesn't try to leave again. “Go on.”

“What was the inspiration?”

“Do you want the answer I practiced for guests tonight or the real answer?”

Well, color me intrigued.

“The real answer.”

Then, as always, Rowan goes and surprises the hell out of me by saying, “I had a dream about you.”

“And here I was thinking you were coming on Tuesday nights for the group.”

She opens her mouth to fire back, but a waiter tries to cut between us with a tray held high, murmuring an apology.

Rowan steps out of his way, right into me, her spine meeting my chest.

Naturally, my hand settles on her hip.

“Sorry,” she whispers, breathless, but she doesn’t move.

I nod toward the painting, my fingers flexing against her dress. “Is this where I touched you? Right here?”

She turns her head just enough to look up at me. There’s no panic in her eyes. The confidence I’ve watched her wear all night settles right back into place.

“Maybe,” she breathes.

“Maybe.” I let the word sit between us, my grip tightening just enough to keep her flush against me. “Where else?”

Her breath shudders out, but she still doesn’t step away.

“You want an inventory?”

“I want the truth. You started this conversation the second you hung that thing on a wall.”

She turns fully in my grip until my hand slides around to the small of her back. We’re closer than two people at a crowded gallery opening have any business being.

“Fine,” she says, her chin tipped up. “It wasn’t just your hand.”

A sudden wave of heat rolls straight through my gut. “No?”