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The purposely uncluttered area allowed Minka to spread out material for detailed projects. She used the space to spread out all the invoices and review them for pricing and services rendered. Taking her diligence a step further, she pulled invoices specific to Dazzles for the previous year’s event.
“What the hell...?” she breathed.
* * *
Vectra was still padding around barefoot in her office by the time the gallery closed for the evening. The Croachman team had left around 8:15 p.m. Yancey was riding another high cloud because of the unexpected sale she made that afternoon thanks to Vectra. The young artist and her team were eager to head out for a bit of celebrating.
Vectra left her staff to handle the closing of the gallery while she returned to her office. The day had been a productive one. She’d even had the chance to settle on a date for a tasting with the Dazzles chef staff in preparation for the Wilder Warriors Foundation event.
She wondered if anyone noticed how excited she was over the event—over any event that involved Qasim. Vectra wouldn’t admit she was favoring his gatherings over any others she might be involved with. Yet she couldn’t deny that it did crazy things to her heart to know she could be a help to the man she was falling in love with.
In love? Where did that revelation come from?
Can it, Vectra.
It hadn’t come out of nowhere. It was, after all, why she’d been so upset by his sudden retreat from their friendship, right?
She shook her head, raking her nails through the elegant, clipped locks of her pixie style. She needed to back off that train of thought. She didn’t even know the man, for goodness’ sake! They had been friends in the truest sense of the word. Nothing romantic had reared its head before.
But that wasn’t true, was it?
Qasim had admitted to backing away and that wanting her had a lot to do with it. She’d already confessed that her attraction had gone beyond the platonic level.
Attraction and want—that had been the extent of it. No one had said a thing about love.
“And no one’s about to start.” With a wave, she filed the decision to a far corner of her mind and fixed her attention on her latest acquisition.
She had Yancey’s painting brought up to her office. She didn’t want to risk it being left down on the floor and seen by another perspective buyer. The fact that it had already been sold might not matter. Vectra had seen people become totally resistant to viewing other work once one piece sparked that desire. The fact that the piece belonged to another and that the other was the gallery’s owner could easily put Vectra in the uncomfortable position of having to sell it. Either that or risk losing a future patron.
Better safe than sorry, she reasoned and went to collect the canvas. She’d been toying with the idea of hanging the piece in her office and considered a wall behind the gray sectional sofa that hugged it. Canvas in hand, she stepped up onto the sofa and positioned the piece on the wall as she judged the location.
It took only a few minutes for Vectra to decide she’d prefer to enjoy Yancey Croachman’s captivating work from the privacy of her own home. Carefully, she eased the canvas to the floor, leaning it along one of the sofa arms.
“Nice.”
Vectra had just straightened, still standing on the sofa, when Qasim’s voice rumbled out. She turned and found him just inside the office, leaning against the doorframe, hands hidden deep in the pockets of his dark trousers.
He appeared casual enough. His tie was discarded, and his collar was undone, revealing a glimpse of toned licorice skin. In spite of his cool, relaxed stance, Vectra wasn’t deceived. It was all too easy to sense the man’s ability to shift gears from relaxed to alert.
She’d dressed comfortably that day, choosing a simple mauve long-sleeved tunic dress. The frock easily transitioned to more business-appropriate attire with the addition of the matching high-heeled sandals that were currently under her desk. At that moment, however, Vectra felt decidedly underdressed.
Qasim left his spot at the door. “Your business manager let me in before she locked up.”
Vectra smiled, aiming for easygoing instead of hot and bothered. “You did say nine.” She glanced at the big-faced clock on a far wall of the office.
“So I did.” Slowly, Qasim made his way toward where she stood barefoot in the middle of the sofa.
He stopped before her and took his time, raking his deep-set ebonies along her body. The dress, in no way clinging, did a superb job of showing off her very model-worthy legs, which he’d had the pleasure of feeling wrapped around his back many times the night before.
The intense throbbing and clenching she’d been riddled with at the start of her day returned with a vengeance. Vectra thought she had never felt so exposed, so eager.
