Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“ N o, no, not there!”
I walked into the familiar sounds of shouting that seemed to precede every gallery showing. Philomena had always been a last-minute re-designer.
Pedestals for sculptures were placed in a maze to promote the flow of people through the gallery.
It was a huge room with spotlights and flawless white Carrera marble stands all over. Tonight, everything smelled of apples and spice for the holidays.
And…chocolate?
I glanced toward the back of the gallery and shook my head. Jax. He was on his own tonight, which was odd. He was one of a trio of owners of a bakery from the nearby Salem area.
Kiss Kakes.
I’d always liked their modern take on displays. Jax, their chocolatier, was too attractive for his own good, but he was exceptionally talented. More than enough to get away with making the new girl, Linda, flutter like Phil.
He turned to me, wiping his hands on a crimson towel tucked into his dark chocolate-colored apron. That was Jax—just a little left of traditional. “Well, hello there. Long time, no see, beautiful.”
“Behave, Jax.”
He grinned and clasped my fingers, brushing a kiss on my cheek just a touch too close to my mouth. “I always behave.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Since when?”
He shrugged and gave me a ridiculous, perfectly white, toothy smile. Icy blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “When I’m on the clock.” His coffee-colored hair was scraped back into a messy high bun with a few silky strands framing his equally ridiculous face.
Did I mention he was too good-looking for his own good?
Or for any females in his midst?
The first time I’d met him, I’d had the same slack-jawed reaction as Linda. Some men just had that air to them. Jax believed his own press a little too much for my taste.
I nodded to Philomena’s assistant. “Nice to see you again, Linda.”
The fair-haired woman hugged her iPad to her chest. “Oh, I’m so glad you came in to help.”
I looked from her to Jax. “I’m sure you have everything in hand.”
“Oh, I was just helping him out.”
I tipped my head and met Jax’s gaze. “Just where is Stella or Eryn?”
“Wedding expo in Boston.”
I winced. “On Black Friday?”
“No, thanks. I made them three dozen salted dark chocolate caramels and washed my hands of them.” He wrapped an arm around Linda’s shoulders. “Besides, I have this lovely woman as my assistant.”
Linda tipped up her head to stare at him, her eyes locked and dreamy.
Jax was a menace. I didn’t blame Linda for being all fluttery. The man could melt chocolate at fifty paces.
“She’s got a gallery to worry about, Romeo.”
He let Linda go. “C’mon, you know I need someone to taste the masterpieces.” He lifted a truffle off one of the tiers and held it out to me. “Try this one. I’m told it’s exceptional.”
I squinted at him, but I took the chocolate. “Menace.” I took a bite and swallowed the urge to moan out loud.
Just barely, though.
The incorrigible man didn’t need that kind of help with his preening ego. Quickly, I licked my lips, hoping he didn’t notice. “Very good.”
“Very good? Come on, you can do better than that.”
“You know it’s a masterpiece. You don’t need me to tell you.”
It was his turn to spike a brow at me.
“Oh, right.” I shook my head. I glanced at Linda with an easy smile. “Let me know if you need an insulin shot after helping Jax.”
Linda smiled at me before her adoring gaze tracked back to Jax. “Isn’t it cruel? How can he be allergic to chocolate?”
“Tragic.” I brushed a hand down Jax’s arm. “Don’t monopolize all her time, huh?”
“I make no promises.”
“Ms. Copeland.”
My spine snapped straight. God, no.
Jax frowned at me. “Everything okay, Grace?”
I leaned in and kissed Jax’s cheek. “It’s fine.”
His hand slid around my wrist to hold me close. “Sure?” he asked in a low voice.
I gave him an easy smile. At least I hoped it looked like an easy smile. Maybe not such a self-important jerk, after all.
I looked over Jax’s shoulder toward the doorway. Blake filled the arched pass-through, his gunmetal-gray suit accentuating just how tall and broad he was.
“I can handle him.” I moved around Jax and lifted my chin.
Whether I was telling him or myself that was the twenty-four-million-dollar question.
“Mr—”
No . No, we wouldn’t be playing that game right now.
Not in my house. The gallery was my domain, and I wouldn’t let him intimidate me.
“Blake. What can I do for you?” I walked toward him and continued past him into the next gallery space. “I’m very busy.”
“So, I see. Who is that man?” His gaze was still on Jax. In fact, he hadn’t turned around to follow me.
Rolling my eyes, I kept walking. Finally, I heard his dress shoes behind me. I snatched an iPad off the desk and logged into the gallery’s mainframe. Each virtual room was labeled with a picture of each piece of work.
It was the only thing that ever worked with how much Philomena moved around the pieces. I scanned the room to make sure everything matched so far.
Anything so I didn’t have to look at him.
Why was he here?
How had he found me?
Why had he found me?
“Ms. Copeland.”
Ignoring him, I checked off the dozen pieces on my list and walked into the next room. It was a smaller room overlooking the cove. This was the room that housed the best of our offerings at the galleries.
I frowned at the empty pedestal and made a note.
“Dammit, Grace.”
Finally, I looked up at him. Just a few days had made a huge difference. I hadn’t really been able to look at him when he’d surprised me at the house yesterday.
But now, his perpetual stubble had grown into the start of a beard.
The dark hair didn’t soften his chiseled face. In fact, it actually made his jaw seem even more angular. I frowned when I finally noticed the white bag dangling from his fingers. My gaze bounced from it back to his face.
“Why are you here?”
A muscle in his jaw jumped and his eyes hardened. “I thought this was where you resided.”
My stomach dropped. Oh, God. I’d forgotten I’d used the gallery’s address on my application.
What exactly could I say? There was only one way to play this.
Ignore him .
I moved around him, and he grabbed my arm and dragged me in close. His voice was low in my ear. “More lies?”
Nothing about Blake allowed me to forget, or to ignore. Not when I was in his airspace. God, would it always be like this?
No.
No, actually it wouldn’t. I met his dark stare. “I’m full of them, remember?”
Instead of recoiling, he dragged me closer until I was on my toes, my chest crashing into his arm. We were alone here. The gallery itself was bustling with people, but this room was empty. All but done save for one piece.
“Why?” he asked.
His eyes glittered with anger and something else I couldn’t name. Something I was too afraid to name.
“Why does it matter? You fired me. We’re done, remember?”
“It matters, dammit.”
“Why?”
His jaw was clenched so hard, I was getting a sympathy headache from it. His hold on me was equally intense. Not enough to bruise, but it would take a good, hard shove to get him to let go.
Why wasn’t I pushing him away?
My nipples tightened under my dress. He couldn’t know, but it was bad enough I did. Shame and heartache climbed up my throat. I hated it—hated him —for how much I wanted him.
We were nothing but smoke trapped under glass. We suffocated each other, wrapped around each other, and then dissipated the moment we were set free. Not even an ember left when we were done with each other.
He dropped the bag he was carrying, and his fingers tunneled through my hair. The iPad I was carrying clattered onto the empty pedestal.
He lowered and I went on my toes until our mouths collided.
Bright white heat flashed behind my eyes as he devoured me. Teeth, tongues, and lips—we were wild for each other. He lifted me off my feet and carried me until I hit the window. His hand pressed to the glass above my head as he loomed over me.
He didn’t hesitate. There was no question, no room for doubt. He dragged my dress up, his short nails scoring my outer thigh until his knee bumped my inner thigh.
I rode the lightning we created together until voices dented my consciousness. Too close. Too much.
What the hell were we doing?
Another heated fuck that led to nowhere?
He pressed his forehead to mine, his chest heaving. “I hate this. I hate wanting you like this. I hate knowing you’re using me.”
I tightened my fingers on his shoulder blades under his jacket. I didn’t even remember curling around him. “And you’re not using me ?”
His eyes were fierce and so very angry. He gripped my hair at the nape of my neck and dragged my head back. His voice was a mere growl of breath. “I want to use you until we both can’t breathe again. I want to fuck you so hard that I forget who and what we are.”
My vision blurred and a single tear escaped to roll down my temple into my hair. “I’m not what you think I am,” I whispered.
“I’m not who you think I am.”
I frowned and gripped his wrist. Open up a trade magazine and anyone knew who Blake Carson was. Brilliant, withdrawn, and with a drive to succeed that rivaled the late Steve Jobs. He had to have been all of that in order to become a billionaire before the age of thirty.
Hadn’t he?
Did he mean what he’d done to get where he was? His domination of the industry had been fast and relentless.
But I couldn’t think. Not with him crowding me.
His hold was almost unbearably tight. It made me feel alive, and I needed that. I was so tired of feeling numb and lost.
I loathed that it was Blake who had brought me into this moment, but I was too starved to say no.
When it was over—when our skin cooled—I’d have to face the numbness and the secrets again. The questions that plagued me.
Right now? I didn’t give a shit.
I pushed him back a step and wrapped his tie around my fingers. “This way.”