Chapter 14 #2
“In fact,” April continued merrily, “he wants to buy the Majestic from you. He lives in those cool high-rise apartments above the Majestic, and he was telling me how his parents used to take him to shows at the theater back in its heyday.”
“Is that right?” Daniela drawled.
Caleb nodded, a trace of wry humor in his expression as he gazed down at her. “How much?”
“That depends. How much is it worth to you?”
“How much is it worth to you?” he countered in a low, enigmatic voice that made Daniela wonder if they were still talking about the photograph.
She swallowed, her heart thumping hard. “It’s not for sale. But I’m sure if you go easy on April in class, she’d be more than happy to take another photo of the Majestic just for you.”
April laughed, dividing a wary look between the two. “Hey, don’t put me in the middle of this. I will not be an accessory to bribing a professor.”
“Suit yourselves.” Daniela started backing out of the room, ignoring Shara’s smirking sneer. “See you in a little bit, April.”
Once outside, she took a moment to draw deep, cleansing breaths of the cool night air.
When she felt steadier, she began making her way toward the main gallery in a connecting building.
It wasn’t so much that she was dying to check out the other exhibits, though the works of some of San Antonio’s finest would be on display.
She’d simply needed to get away—quickly.
Seeing Caleb again had seriously rattled her cage.
Seeing him on a date with Shara Adler made her want to draw blood.
An image of the couple gazing at each other across a romantic candlelit table, or holding hands at the symphony, brought a sick feeling to Daniela’s stomach.
Knowing she had no right to be jealous didn’t stop her from being jealous, anyway.
She reached the main gallery and smiled absently at the attractive light-skinned man who held the door open for her on his way out.
As she stepped into the high-ceilinged room with pristine white walls, gleaming hardwood floors and recessed lighting, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks that this building, at least, was air-conditioned.
Not that heat generated by a large crowd would be a problem tonight.
Less than a dozen art-goers milled about, and half were people she’d seen in the other gallery.
The works on display featured an eclectic blend of traditional, contemporary and experimental art.
As Daniela wandered from one exhibit to the next, she wasn’t surprised when the courteous stranger—who’d apparently changed his mind about leaving—doubled back and began following her around the room.
He maintained a discreet distance at first, casting surreptitious glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.
When she paused long enough to admire a sepia-toned photograph of a seventeenth-century Mexican cathedral, he made his move.
“Powerful, isn’t it?” he remarked, materializing beside her as if by pure accident. The heavy spice of an expensive cologne tickled her nostrils. “Makes you feel reverent in the face of all that holy splendor.”
Holy splendor?
Daniela murmured noncommittally and moved on to the next display. She hid a knowing smile as the stranger pretended to linger over the photo, studying it with his head tipped thoughtfully to one side, before following her.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before,” he said. “Is this your first time at First Friday?”
“I’ve been here a few times,” she answered vaguely.
In truth, she’d been coming to the event since she was a little girl, accompanied by her mother and brothers.
Pamela had been a staunch advocate of exposing her children to the arts, arranging her schedule at the hospital so that she was off the first Friday of every month.
Although Kenneth and Noah had to be dragged to the event, and spent the entire time yawning and complaining of boredom, Daniela had always looked forward to each excursion.
Some of her favorite childhood memories included trips to the Blue Star, and feasting on hot Frito Pies from Sonic afterward.
“I think it’s a wonderful way to showcase the talents of our local artists,” the stranger was saying. “A lot of people don’t realize just how much San Antonio has to offer. We’re so much more than the River Walk and a championship basketball team.”
“Well said,” drawled an amused voice behind them.
Daniela and her companion turned to find Caleb standing there, a lazy smile on his handsome face. Daniela’s pulse spiked automatically.
The stranger looked startled, his pale green eyes widening in surprise. “Th-Thorne,” he stammered. “What’re you doing here?”
“Same thing everyone else is doing,” Caleb murmured, gazing at Daniela. “Admiring art.”
“Of course that’s what you’re doing here. I didn’t mean—”
Caleb chuckled dryly. “I know what you meant, Stuart. I see you’ve met Miss Moreau.”
“Not quite,” Stuart said. “We hadn’t gotten around to introductions yet.”
“Allow me,” Caleb offered smoothly. “Stuart Epps, I’d like you to meet Daniela Moreau, a student of mine at the university.”
Daniela wondered if she’d only imagined the possessive note in his voice when he’d introduced her as “a student of mine.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Daniela,” Stuart said, reaching forward to eagerly clasp her hand. “What an absolutely beautiful name.”
“Thank you,” she said, giving her hand a discreet tug when he held on a little longer than etiquette necessitated. She forced a pleasant smile. “And how are you and Professor Thorne acquainted?”
“Caleb and I went to UT together,” Stuart explained. “We had a bit of a friendly rivalry going back then—with academics, sports. Girls,” he added with a cocky wink at Caleb.
“Ah, yes,” Caleb murmured, nodding. “Stu married the girl we all wanted, a lovely and talented gymnast named Harmony. Where is she tonight, by the way?”
Stuart’s face reddened. “Uh, she had to work late. We’re, uh, supposed to be meeting for dinner at—” He glanced at his Rolex and started in surprise. “Damn. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“Better not keep Harmony waiting,” Caleb warned softly. “She always did have quite the temper.”
With an embarrassed look at Daniela, who was biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing, Stuart turned and beat a hasty retreat.
“Poor Stuart,” Caleb lamented with a mournful shake of his head.
Daniela covered her mouth with her hand to muffle a peal of laughter, but it spilled out, anyway.
Caleb grinned, watching her. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”
“For what?” she gasped between giggles.
“For rescuing you from the clutches of a notorious womanizer.”
At that she sobered, the laughter dying on her lips like a flame that had been suddenly doused. Her chin went up. “Well, you would know.”
Caleb frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re the brilliant professor,” she said, moving on to the next display. “I’ll let you figure it out.”
Caleb followed her. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me, Miss Moreau?”
“Where’s Shara?” she answered with a question of her own.
He hesitated. “On her way home. Her son called to say he wasn’t feeling well. Seems there’s a flu bug going around.”
“That’s too bad,” Daniela murmured. “You two had such a romantic evening ahead of you.”
Dark eyes narrowed on her face. “I fail to see,” he said carefully, drawing each word out, “how that could possibly be any concern of yours.”
Her cheeks heated. “It’s not.”
A taunting gleam entered his eyes. “If I didn’t know better, Miss Moreau, I would think you were jealous.”
Her temper flared. Before she could respond, he turned and sauntered over to an exhibit on the facing wall. This time she followed him.
“I’m not jealous of you and Shara,” she snapped, reaching his side. “If you think I am, think again.”
Caleb said nothing, arms folded across his wide chest as he studied the black-and-white photograph mounted before him.
It was an edgy, experimental piece, a portrait of a nude man and woman locked in a passionate embrace against the backdrop of French doors.
The photo had been skillfully retouched, the background softly blurred to bring the couple into sharper focus, creating an image that was at once artistic and shockingly erotic.
Beneath the photo, the caption read VOYEUR.
How apropos, thought Daniela, feeling as if she were intruding on an intimate moment between two strangers.
As a slow flush crept over her body, she wondered whether it was a reaction to the provocative portrait or to the silent, brooding man beside her.
Even in her anger she was acutely aware of him.
His utter maleness beckoned to her, wreaking sheer havoc on her senses.
She stole a look at him beneath her lashes, covertly admiring his profile—straight nose, strong bearded jaw, the sensual curve of those masculine lips, the dark eyes rimmed with a thick fringe of black lashes, matched to the slash of his brows. He was beautiful, wickedly so.
And she wanted him. Wanted him like no other man she’d ever wanted before.
“This thing between us,” he said suddenly, his voice low and controlled. “It can’t happen.”
Fresh anger swept through her, though she didn’t know whom she was angrier with—herself or Caleb.
Spurred by a recklessness she didn’t question, she stepped directly in front of him, forcing herself into his line of vision. She might as well have thrown herself before a ravenous wolf.
“Is that what you came all the way down here to tell me?” she challenged hotly.
His eyes flashed a warning. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what, Professor Thorne?” she taunted, knowing she was playing with fire but too far gone to care. “Don’t cause a scene? Or don’t call you a liar?”
Before she could react, Caleb grabbed her by the wrist and strode purposefully from the room.