Chapter Five
I pull up outside the glass monstrosity, mentally high-fiving myself for scoring a spot right out front. Easing open my door, I duck out before a messenger bike bowls me over and skirt around the hood of my shiny rental.
If I ’ m honest, I ’ m a little … nervous? Excited? Anxious? I ’ m something, all right. Whatever it is, it ’ s bubbling under the surface, my fingers twitching with it. For once, I ’ m not on the clock or expected to do a job, I ’ m just … me. It ’ s a little novel and a lot unnerving.
So I do what any other self-respecting woman with a self-imposed reputation does. I lean against the car door, fighting not to fidget, and hope I look as aloof and suave as I ’ ve seen those idiots look in movies and not something akin to eager. Because surely, I ’ m not that.
Ah, fuck.
It dawns on me. Jeremy has no way of knowing I ’ m here. Do I wait like a dumbass, hoping he somehow sees me? I ’ m not even going to ponder the how of that. Or do I lose the cool, unaffected, lame-o position I have against the car and go inside to find him? I don ’ t even know what floor he ’ s on or which company he ’ s with. He ’ s bound to come out eventually, right?
I ’ m continuing the mental war with myself, on more levels than I care to admit, when I notice the man in question entering the death doors.
And I feel it.
My face lights up. The corners of my mouth curve with my impending smile, and my body tenses with anticipation. Well, shit . This won ’ t do . I settle for a more subtle smirk, still leaning against the car as I watch Jeremy exit, his own blinding grin greeting me as he steps out onto the sidewalk with a sexy swagger. Oh my. I look at my watch—the one I ’ m not wearing on my wrist, damn it—in a futile attempt to seem nonchalant, and he laughs.
“ Am I late?” Jeremy says with an impish grin, pausing a few feet in front of me, his eyes sparkling as he takes in my ride. “ Is it yours?” he asks, a little in awe, pocketing his car keys in what I ’ m starting to think are his signature dark, perfectly fitted jeans.
He looks yummy in them, paired again with a tailored suit jacket, this one navy, along with a skinny black tie and white shirt. I hate myself for noticing how edible he is. The sexy, scruffy, just-fucked hair and two-day-old stubble aren ’ t helping. I uncross my legs and straighten up, fighting not to look at him like he ’ s chocolate cake and I ’ ve been banished to fat camp.
Just one lick…
“ It ’ s a rental. Shall we?”
“ Shame. ” He all but drools. “ Wait. I should drive. You don ’ t know where we ’ re going. It ’ s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
I snort and roll my eyes at him before heading to the driver ’ s side. “ Not a chance.”
“ Oh, come on. It ’ s an Aston Martin,” he pleads with a pout.
“ It ’ s just a car.” I know very well it ’ s not just a car. I picked it on purpose, and it truly drives like a dream. “ Now, you can pout inside the sex-on-wheels or on the sidewalk. What ’ ll it be?”
This time , he rolls his eyes before we both get in.
“ So, where to?” I ask as the car purrs to life, but when he doesn ’ t respond, I look at him expectantly.
“ Oh, right. If you get on the ninety-three—”
“ Isn ’ t that an extra five miles or something?”
“ Yeah, I guess it is.” He shrugs, if not a little sheepish. Interesting .
“ Okay, so route one it is. Plus, the bend on the Tobin Bridge will be fun.”
“ Yeah, I bet. Killjoy.”
“ That ’ s one thing I ’ ve never been accused of.” I grin, thinking back to when I accused Antony of the same thing.
“ There ’ s a first time for everything.” I can hear the smile in his tone. “ Like getting you out on a date.”
“ Surely if this was a date, you ’ d be picking me up, not vice versa. You ’ re emasculating yourself there,” I tease. “ I ’ m so the one wearing the pants in this faux relationship.”
“ No way,” he protests with a laugh. “ Though I have to admit, I ’ m kind of grateful for the pants.”
“ What?” I frown, chancing a glance at him and seeing a slight blush to his cheeks. “ Oh, this should be good,” I mutter. “ Out with it.”
The blush deepens as he shakes his head. “ I should have known you wouldn ’ t let that slide.”
“ I never let anything slip .” Pun intended . “ Out with it.”
“ Okay. The whole driving thing you ’ ve got going on ,”— he gestures to me as I shift gears—”would make for a long ride if you were wearing a short skirt, too.”
I grin, clearing the Tobin Bridge, and I look at Jeremy as I shift into third, the car smoothly accelerating in seconds. “ You like how I handle a stick?” I purr, not breaking eye contact, and I relish the way his Adam ’ s apple bobs as he swallows before responding, his eyes darkening to burning sapphires.
“ If I say yes, will you watch the road?”
My lips curve up as his eyes flicker to the road and then back to me.
“ You ’ re freaking me out a little.”
I quirk a brow, moving into fourth.
“ Okay, I give. You ’ re hot as hell, even without the skirt.” It comes out rushed, tense, and … a little husky?
“ And you were calling me a killjoy.” I laugh, turning my eyes back to the road, shifting again. “ Next you ’ ll be telling me I drive too fast.”
“ I wouldn ’ t dare. ” His chuckle comes out forced and strained, so I cut him some slack and ease off the gas.
“ Better? ”
“ I ’ d feel better if I was driving.” I shake my head at him as a wolfish grin breaks out on his devilish face, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and I realize the player just got played.
“ You were faking this whole time?” Nooo. “ And here I thought only women did that. No way am I letting you drive now, spoilsport. I was enjoying freaking you out, and you had to go and ruin it.” This time his laugh is real, deep and rich, making me all too aware of the confined space we share. “ Bastard. I should have changed lanes on you. Then you wouldn ’ t be laughing.”
“ I don ’ t know any woman, or man for that matter, who ’ d be brave enough to do what you did, let alone pull it off. So I ’ ll hazard a guess you can drive. You might be crazy, but I doubt you ’ d be stupid enough to try it on a whim.”
“ Point. ” I smile.
“ It was kinda impressive.”
“ You liked that, huh?”
“ Little bit. Where did you learn how to drive like that?”
Ahh … “ A rally driver.”
“ You dated a rally driver?” His eyebrows shoot skyward.
I scoff at his leap to the wrong conclusion.
“ Right, you don ’ t date. How could I forget?” He mutters the latter, making me grin.
“ He taught me everything he knew.” I chuckle. “ Well, on the road , at least. Let ’ s just say he was fast in all aspects of his life.”
Jeremy seems to choke on thin air before breaking into a fit of laughter. “ Oh, man. Poor guy.” I roll my eyes, and he laughs again. “ Okay, so maybe poor you.”
“ Yeah, poor me. I had to work extra hard for that one.”
Silence.
“ You wanna get on the ninety-five up ahead,” he blurts out abruptly. It comes out sharp, hard even. I ’ m taken aback for a moment, and I turn to argue once his words register, but he cuts me off. “ It ’ s more direct and a little quicker than taking the one the whole way,” he adds, softer.
“ Oh,” I say, registering that I ’ m going to be in an enclosed space with Jeremy for another half hour or so. His delicious cologne has already started to replace the new car smell. Argh . Yup, direct is good. “ And then?” I ask after a few tense minutes of silence.
“ Exit on thirty-three. The rest I ’ ll give you when we get closer.”
“ Right, okay.”
The silence continues to fill the car, each second ticking painfully by, but I ’ m at a loss on how to break it. Awkward silences have never been my thing. I ’ m not usually around anyone other than clients these days, and there ’ s not a whole lot of silence happening. What ’ s he thinking?
“ So … when ’ s your curfew?” When he doesn ’ t respond, I glance at him, catching the confusion written all over his face. “ When do I need to drop you back at work?”
“ Oh. Trying to get rid of me already?”
“ Yes. I was debating kicking you to the curb at the next intersection, you know, now that I know where I ’ m going .” I laugh when I see the contemplation on his face. “ I ’ m kidding, Jeremy. Your company isn ’ t so unbearable. ” Far from it, actually . “ And you know I don ’ t know where I ’ m going. Was that on purpose?”
He chuckles. “ You ’ ve caught me. But you ’ re stuck with me. I have nowhere to be. My boss thinks I ’ m in meetings all afternoon, wooing potential clients.”
“ Are you trying to woo me, Jeremy?”
“ Trying would imply I hadn ’ t already.” He looks over at me, his face beaming with cocky arrogance. And damn if that look doesn ’ t hit me south.
“ If the auction was any reflection of your wooing skills, you might need to work on that. Wooed I was not.” A giggle slips out.
“ Sure, sure. You ’ re here, aren ’ t you?” Touché . “ Also, take the next left and then the second right.”
“ Well, apparently, I have money burning a hole in my pocket, my newly acquired seven-grand painting proving as much. I ’ m all about the art, you know, and spending copious amounts of money. Does he know we ’ re coming?”
“ Who? Oh, Luke. Kinda, yeah,” he says, sounding distracted.
“ Kinda? What do you mean, kinda?”
“ Oh, nothing. I may have told him I was bringing the most beautiful woman I ’ d ever seen, and he needed to behave.”
“ Right,” I deadpan.
Jeremy lets out a roar of laughter. “ Your ego isn ’ t lacking.” He laughs again. “ I told him you outbid me last Thursday and wanted to see the rest.”
I shrug. “ The ego ’ s a work requirement, I guess. I stopped registering compliments years ago. I ’ m a little numb to them now.” But I ’ d be lying if I said I didn ’ t like it when Jeremy called me beautiful. It felt more real.
“ I guess you can get sick of hearing it all the time.”
“ You have no idea. It becomes so monotonous.” I shoot him a wry grin, sarcasm practically dripping from my tone.
“ I ’ ll have to change it up, then.” He gives me a lopsided smile. “ I never know when you ’ re being serious, but I ’ m starting to.”
“ I ’ m always serious.”
“ You ’ re so full of it.”
“ See? You ’ re learning already. Life is too boring and too much work to be serious all the time.” I smile. “ They ’ re just words, you know? It ’ s all only skin-deep—beauty, that is. Besides, it ’ s a mask, a costume, part of a uniform. You can do wonders with war paint.”
“ War paint?”
“ Makeup.” He looks at me, dubious. “ Never mind.” I wave him off. Explaining the art of contouring to a man would be like trying to teach a fish how to fly. “ On a serious note, I think I ’ m kind of nervous.”
“ Nervous? Why?”
“ First, I don ’ t want to break my bank account, and he ’ s stupidly talented. Normally, I ’ m the most talented one in the room.” I wink, making Jeremy snort.
“ Luke is pretty laid back . He ’ s just a guy who ’ s crazy gifted with his hands.”
“ Is that right? Well, in that case … ”
“ Hey, hey. You ’ re my ride, no switching teams.”
I titter. “ That would require having a team in the first place,” I retort.
“ Mmhmm. Well, it ’ s just on the corner up ahead, so I guess we ’ ll see.” His tone is still playful, but there ’ s an undercurrent I can ’ t decipher.
Is this…jealousy? Is that why he ’ s been a little weird?
I pull up against the curb two buildings down and put the beautiful beast to sleep, but I ’ m reluctant to make a move.
“ You ready?” Jeremy asks, having exited the car. He leans back in through his open door. I didn ’ t even notice he ’ d gotten out.
“ Yes. Let ’ s go and bankrupt me.”
He ’ s still chuckling when he comes around to my side of the car, opening the door wider as I step out.
“ If I promise not to let you spend all your money—you know, just some of it—will you let me drive this glorious bastard back?”
I grin at that.
“ Unless, you know, you pick the wrong team,” he says with a grin of his own, but I ’ m not buying it.
“ Jeremy, I don ’ t pick teams. Think of me as … the referee.” The goalposts might be a more appropriate portrayal. “ I ’ m impartial. ”
“ They all like to think they are, but everyone has a team, Viv. Some just hide it better than others.” There ’ s more meaning behind his tone, but I ’ m stuck on something else he said.
“ Viv? That ’ s a new one. My bestie was the first person to bestow a nickname on me. But she calls me Vee.” As in V for virginity, or lack thereof , in my case.
“ Sorry. I ’ ll—”
“ No, it ’ s fine. I kinda like it.”
“ All right, then.” He beams, cocking his elbow out, offering it to me.
I hesitate, but only for a beat, before linking my arm through his and I almost want to laugh, or possibly swoon, which would be moronic. I am forever someone ’ s arm candy, yet this feels so different. It ’ s ridiculous. I am hyper aware of Jeremy ’ s body heat radiating into me through his jacket and spreading to the very tips of my toes. When you add his intoxicating scent I ’ m becoming all too familiar with—that earthy, woodsy, slightly sweet, manly smell—and his proximity, it ’ s a heady mix.
I ’ m quite possibly screwed.
“ Ready?” Jeremy asks.
“ Sorry?” I abruptly break out of my crazy brain and come back to the now, finding us standing outside of a tiny two-story corner shop with Jeremy looking at me, his head cocked to the side. “ Oh, yes. Lead the way.”
He gives me a small smile before opening the door. It chimes as we enter, the old-fashioned kind you ’ d find in a candy store some fifty years ago. It brings a grin to my lips for all of two seconds before my breath catches on a gasp, and my eyes focus in on the never-ending room in front of me.
It seems to go on forever, with every available wall surface covered—and I do mean covered—in art. Landscapes, portraits, murals, even scrolls, done in every available medium—oil, acrylic, encaustic, watercolors, charcoal—cover a vast amount of the room. The canvases are an array of shapes, sizes, and materials—linen, muslin, plaster, even cardboard and metal , being only a few I can discern. The rest of the wall comprises sculptures in possibly every textile known to man. There are some items my brain can ’ t even compute. A few bigger pieces litter the inner space, seemingly sporadic, but even quickly, I can tell they are artfully placed so as not to crowd or overwhelm the room.
I ’ m completely and utterly speechless.
“ You ’ re totally switching teams, aren ’ t you?” Jeremy ’ s voice is deep and melodic as he whispers in my ear, catching me off guard again. His warm breath at the nape of my neck causes me to break into goosebumps, and I shiver, taking a moment to process his words.
“ There was another team?” I manage to quip, barely above a murmur.
Jeremy ’ s rich laugh breaks me out of my awe-induced daze, and I turn my eyes back to him, beaming. In my excitement, I grab his hand, not having realized I ’ d released his arm on entry. I squeeze it.
“ Thank you,” I whisper, still overwhelmed by the magnificent space.
“ Seeing the expression on your face right now and the way your whole body practically glows with excitement … ” He trails off, staring at me, and my cheeks warm under his intense gaze. It ’ s probing, searching beneath the surface. It ’ s also unsettling. “ That ’ s all the thanks I need.”
He threads his fingers through mine and gives a soft squeeze before pulling me further into the room and leading me around the space. My eyes continue to take it all in, unable to linger long on anything before something else catches my attention. After a while, Jeremy abruptly stops, and I stumble into his arm but continue forward, my shoes sliding on the polished floor. He stops my momentum, pulling on our joined hands, and somehow, I end up once again invading his personal space, our faces mere inches apart. My breathing hitches, and based on the blazing gaze staring back at me, coupled with the slight rise of his chest against mine, I ’ d hazard a guess Jeremy is more than fine with it and a little affected himself.
“ Hi. You must be Vivienne.” The soft, manly voice comes from behind me.
I whirl around, a gasp escaping my lips as I come face to face with the genius himself. Jesus, my heart.
“ Sorry, I—”
“ You know my name?” I blurt, cutting him off. Of course he does, dumbass. “ I mean, yes. That ’ s me. Hi. ” I reach out a shaking hand and take Luke ’ s stupidly talented one. “ This—you ’ re—I…wow.” Oh, god.
They both laugh, and I blush scarlet. The featherlight caress of Jeremy ’ s thumb brushes my other hand still in his. I glance back at him, catching a fleeting smirk playing at the corners of his impish lips. His amusement brings me back to my senses a little, and I try again after releasing Luke ’ s hand. “ This is possibly the most breathtaking gallery I ’ ve ever seen. You created all of this?”
It ’ s Luke ’ s turn to blush, a slight color staining his thin, previously white cheeks. He scratches the back of his unkempt blond mop, wrinkling his face into an embarrassed grimace.
“ Uh, yeah. Guilty.” He shrugs, dismissing the compliment.
“ You weren ’ t kidding earlier in the car, were you?” I say softly, smiling back at Jeremy, and he chuckles, shaking his head. Luke really doesn ’ t have an artist ’ s ego. “ Seriously, you have a gift,” I say, turning back to Luke. “ Surely you know that, or maybe you don ’ t, but you should. I ’ ve seen a crazy amount of art, even been to a lot of pompous galleries and openings. This…this entire space takes the cake.” I look around, getting sucked into the room once again. “ I could stay here forever, and it would never get old,” I say, a little dreamily.
Luke laughs, bringing my focus to his face, now a violent shade of red. “ Mi casa es su casa . There ’ s a bedroom and all.”
I grin, not missing the twinkle in his eyes or the minuscule tightening of Jeremy ’ s grip on my hand. I wiggle my fingers, hoping he ’ ll release them, but he doesn ’ t. “ Where did you materialize from?”
Luke smiles brightly and gestures behind him. “ I built the stairs into the wall.”
I look past his shoulder and squint a little, my eyes going wide an instant later as I finally see the stairs, almost completely hidden among the art. “ Oh, wow.”
He chuckles softly. “ The studio ’ s upstairs above the, well, actual studio, where all the magic happens.”
“ Upstairs or downstairs?” I quirk a brow.
“ I could show you.” And just when I thought Luke ’ s face couldn ’ t get any redder, it goes beet. His eyes go wide and dart to Jeremy. “ I—uh, wow. That came out wrong.”
I hold in my snicker, my shoulders shaking with mirth as tears pool in my eyes. I ’ m fighting not to lose it completely. Jeremy ’ s ever-tightening grip makes it a near-impossible feat, but I get the unmistakable feeling he ’ d not like that at all.
“ I ’ ll leave you to look around.” Luke smiles sheepishly at me. “ Maybe some other time I can show you the studio. The art one,” he adds hastily, retreating.
“ Bye, Luke. It was. Nice. Meeting. You.” I struggle to get the words out between sputters of fighting to control the laughter.
Luke smiles again before opening a door next to the stairs I hadn ’ t noticed and disappears. I turn back to Jeremy, his expression a war of emotions, and pull my numb hand from his.
“ Uh, ouch. ” I laugh softly, waving some feeling back into the extremity for added effect. “ You wanna explain what that was?” I ask, indicating my hand.
“ Yeah, sorry,” he mutters. “ I didn ’ t realize.” I raise a brow, and he chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “ Luke ’ s not usually … I don ’ t know what that was. I think he likes you.”
“ I wasn ’ t talking about Luke. Are you going all caveman on me?” It ’ s a challenge to keep a straight face.
“ No. ” His response is instant, his eyes going wide. “ I mean … you are my ride.”
I burst out laughing. “ You totally got all territorial on my ass.”
He rolls his eyes at me, but a slight pink tinges his cheeks, giving him away. It ’ s possibly the cutest thing ever, and before I even realize, my hand reaches up of its own accord to brush featherlight fingers across one of his cheeks.
“ You ’ re a terrible liar.” I smile, watching the color deepen.
Jeremy stills beneath my intended simple, quick gesture as it morphs into a caress. My fingers get lost in the feel of his soft cheek and the stubble grazing my palm. My breath catches as my gaze flicks up, locking with Jeremy ’ s burning blues. There is no denying the yearning in them, the heat radiating from him. It ’ s a tidal wave of raw emotion threatening to drown me, swallowing me whole with its hypnotizing depth. My own warring reactions keep me in place. I ’ m unable to move, to think, to breathe. I ’ m three seconds away from throwing myself at him, fulfilling every fantasy I ’ ve had since we met, the ones I haven ’ t fully acknowledged; or I ’ m seconds away from running out the front door, never to be seen again. It could go either way at this point.
Jeremy breaks the trance first. My gaze falls to his hand, coming up to cup my palm on his cheek, and somehow the distance between us has vanished. His face, so much closer to mine. His warm breath fanning my face, my lips, tempting them into submission. It would be so easy to give in, to lean forward and press my mouth to his. To take…
I shouldn ’ t.
I can ’ t.
I lift my gaze up to his eyes, the hues a softer, warmer shade of sapphire. The fire is all but gone—just a shimmer under the surface. What surprises me more than the sudden change in them is the understanding staring back at me. I don ’ t know how to process that.
He turns his face into my hand, causing a soft tremor to run the length of my body, and I close my eyes for a second at the tender press of his lips to the soft flesh of my palm. There ’ s no simplicity in the gesture. It ’ s too intimate, too…much.
I try to pull my appendage free, but Jeremy holds on, pulling his lips away and taking my hand in his, once again intertwining our fingers. I raise my eyes from our hands at the sound of his soft voice breaking the heavy silence.
“ I want to show you something before we leave.” He pulls me toward the black-cushioned bench-seat, about the size of a double bed, maybe a little smaller, in the middle of the room.
The comparison makes me raise an eyebrow, and I shoot Jeremy a quizzical look.
“ Sit.”
“ I ’ m pretty sure whatever you ’ re about to show me, I ’ ve seen before.” I smirk, and Jeremy snorts.
“ I can guarantee you haven ’ t seen this.”
“ You ’ ve seen one, you ’ ve seen them all.” I shrug, trying and failing not to picture things I really shouldn ’ t right about now. My blood is still humming in my veins.
Jeremy tugs on my hand as he sits down, almost pulling me onto his lap. I ’ m torn on whether I should be relieved or disappointed that he didn ’ t.
“ See? Was that so hard?”
I bite my tongue on that one. “ Now what?”
“ Look up.”
I frown, doing as I ’ m told, and then gasp.
I ’ d been so fixated on the breathtaking art decorating the walls that I hadn ’ t scanned the full two-story height of them. It ’ s like stepping into the twilight zone, and I ’ m falling through space and time. The overwhelming beauty and realism of the universe Luke ’ s created on the ceiling is ridiculous. Colors come alive in a swirl around the center to create the unmistakable Milky Way in all its dark matter and intergalactic glory. The blue and purple tones glow with the bright, bursting light radiating out of the middle, tingeing the surrounding colors with its iridescence. It seems to shimmer and ripple the longer I stare transfixed, the stars twinkling and sparkling like diamonds, leaving no detail spared.
“ It ’ s amazing,” I eventually gush.
When I ’ m met with silence, I shift my eyes to Jeremy, once again finding him watching me intently.
“ Agreed,” he says after a beat. “ It used to be my favorite thing in the room.” Used to?
“ Jeremy…”
“ Vivienne? ”
“ Will you quit staring at me?”
He grins. “ Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?”
Exceedingly so. “ No. ” I shake my head to emphasize my point. “ You ’ ll burn a hole in my face. Come on. Let ’ s get you back to work before you use up all your woo on me.” I get up and head for the door, but I turn around before I reach it. “ Here,” I holler at him.
One eyebrow quirks in response, then his eyes widen a second before the car keys fly at his face. His hand whips out in record time, catching them an inch before they ’ d have hit him square in the eye. His resulting smile is brighter and more brilliant than any piece in the room.
Jeremy leaps off the bench and hurdles toward me, picking me up in a bone-crushing hug. I lose my breath in a rush as he spins me around.
“ Can ’ t. Breathe,” I sputter out.
“ Sorry.”
Jeremy eases up on his hold and puts me back on my feet. My shoes have barely touched the ground before his lips press to my cheek in a chaste kiss. I don ’ t have a chance to react to the proximity of his lips to mine before they ’ re gone, and he captures my hand in his, dragging me out the door.
I shake my head and giggle at his exuberance. The excited chatter as we make our way back to the car becomes a pleasant buzz in the background as my mind whirls.
If I want to be completely honest with myself, which I really, really don ’ t. I might sort of, quite possibly, be just a little bit…infatuated.
But that would be crazy. Right?