AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I shake my head and bite back my own laughter. “So you’re trying to make up for last year by buying her something she actually wants for her birthday this year?”
“You could say that.” He turns to face me. “I’ll take the one you suggested although I’m tempted to buy them all.”
I look up at him. Bridget priced each sketch at more than I ever would have. The cost of all four together is twice my monthly rent. “That would be one hell of a birthday present.”
His arm brushes against mine as his hand dives into the inner pocket of his suit jacket to tug out his wallet. “I’m only giving one to Joyce. I have someone else in mind for the others.”
Who? I want to blurt out, but he didn’t offer, so I won’t go fishing for details.
I take the credit card. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate the gift.”
Goosebumps crawl up my skin when his hand touches mine. We linger like that, our fingertips pressed against each other, his card dangling between my index finger and thumb.
“I’ll be sure to tell them all about the artist.”
“You don’t know much about me.” I finally slip my hand away from his although the heat of his touch lingers on my skin. “What will you tell them?”
His eyes close as he sucks in a deep breath. When he finally opens them, he narrows his gaze. “I’ll say that you’re an incredibly talented, beautiful woman.”
He thinks I’m beautiful.
“I’ll say that I’m fortunate to be in your class even though I’ll never master the finer points of figure drawing.”
“There’s always hope,” I whisper. “I see promise when I look at your work.”
“You’re lying.” His gaze drops to my mouth. “Your lip is quivering.”
Before I can bite it, the pad of his thum
b is on it. He slides it along my bottom lip, slowly, so painfully slowly that I almost moan.
“I’m not taking your class to become the next Sem Jansen.”
I smile against his thumb. “Why are you taking it?”
“You know why.” His breath whispers across my lips.
I lean closer wanting him to kiss me. His hand drops when my lips part and just as my eyelids flutter shut, the bell above the gallery door rings.
I close my eyes wishing that whoever walked in just now would turn around and walk out.
“I take it you’re Piper?” An unfamiliar male voice asks.
I look briefly at Griffin before my gaze slides to the door and the man standing just inside the gallery.
Oh, shit.
“You’re Brighton Beck.” I push out the words through a wave of anxiety. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
***
Black hair, piercing blue eyes and a full sleeve tattoo. All of that is standing in front of me in the form of Brighton Beck, or Beck, as he prefers to be called by his friends, according to Bridget.
I go for the safe approach. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Beck.”
He looks down at the black T-shirt and jeans he’s wearing. “I don’t seriously look like a Mr. Beck to you, do I?”
How am I supposed to answer that? I haven’t exactly made the best first impression. When Brighton walked in, I was just about to kiss Griffin. Brighton’s presence pulled us apart and as I finished up the sale for my framed sketches and arranged for them to be delivered to Griffin’s office, I didn’t glance at either man. They were involved in a discussion about the weather that effortlessly slid into a shared appreciation for the New York Yankees.
