Chapter 6
Six
“How am I supposed to walk through Professor Fleming’s exhibit after that meal you just fed me?” Holly patted her full tummy. “You’re going to have to roll me out of here.”
Jack’s husky chuckle was too low to resonate over the din of the restaurant, but Holly felt its vibration. Very sexy. Then again, everything he did was sexy.
“You do like a good steak, don’t you, sugar?”
“Yes, I do.”
His smile was pure sin. “So many women these days won’t eat red meat. Heck, they won’t eat anything but rabbit food.”
“Well, I enjoy eating,” Holly said, “and life is too short not to do the things we enjoy.”
“True enough,” Jack agreed.
He had no idea how true. The man hadn’t even hit thirty yet. The whisper of a chill skittered up Holly’s neck. She hated thinking about his age. Thinking about his age led to the myriad reasons they could never be together long term. That saddened her, truly. She liked this man more with every minute she spent in his company. He was so much more than a hot cowboy. He was a father, a son, a rancher. Her lips curved. A nude model.
She had to end it tonight. The more time she devoted to him, the harder the heartbreak would be when it ended.
And it would end. That was inevitable.
“So you ready?” Jack said.
Holly nodded and rose. “Yeah, let’s go. Thanks so much for the dinner.”
“My pleasure.” He stood and helped her with her light sweater. “The gallery’s only a block away. Nice night for a walk.”
She nodded again. “I’d like that.”
“You okay, sugar? You sound a little down all of a sudden.”
Just thinking about turning you loose tonight.
She sighed. “I’m fine, Jack. Just a little tired. But I don’t want to miss this exhibit. I’m a huge fan of Professor Fleming’s work. I hope this exhibit will be his big break.”
“He’s hoping so, too.” He took her hand and guided her around the tables and out the door of the restaurant.
He continued to hold her hand as they walked. The spring night was balmy, and downtown Denver was hopping. Every woman who passed them seemed to be checking Jack out, and Holly couldn’t help but wonder what they thought of her, the older woman, on the arm of the hot young cowboy. Her skin prickled with conspicuousness. They didn’t talk during the short walk, and Holly breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the small gallery.
A hostess greeted them with glasses of wine and a tray of hors d’oeuvres , which Holly declined. She was so full from dinner she might never eat again.
“There’s Mark,” Jack said, gesturing. “Want to go say hi?”
Holly shook her head. “I’m sure he’s busy.”
“Not too busy for his favorite godson.” Jack pulled Holly along behind him as he made a beeline for Professor Fleming.
“Jack, good of you to come,” Professor Fleming said as they approached. “Meet my agent, Mary Rivers.”
A small blond woman held out her hand.
Jack shook it, and then said, “This is Holly Taylor.”
“A pleasure, Ms. Taylor,” Professor Fleming said. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
Holly cleared her throat. “I’m in your perceptual drawing class at the community college.”
“Ah, yes, that’s it.” He reddened just a bit, but Holly noticed. “Then you were there when Jack—”
“Yeah, she was, but that’s not how we met, so get your mind out of the gutter.” Jack exchanged a smile with the older man.
Holly’s cheeks warmed. Get his mind out of the gutter? If he knew how they’d actually met, he wouldn’t think the whole nude model thing was that bad.
She stifled a giggle. “I’m really excited about this exhibit, Professor.”
“Please, call me Mark, and I hope you enjoy it,” he said. “I know Jack’ll take good care of you.”
“Count on it, Mark.” Jack excused himself and Holly and led her to the first wall of oil paintings.
Holly didn’t enjoy abstracts much, so she was glad Mark had only a few in his exhibit. She much preferred landscapes and portraits. She drank in the colors, the textures, examining each painting closely and then from farther away.
“Wow,” Jack said beside her, his warm breath caressing her neck.
“What?”
“You’re looking at each one like it’s unique.”
“Each one is unique, silly.”
“That’s not what I meant. Heck, I don’t know what I meant. It’s just…beautiful, the way you sink into the art, like you’re becoming one with it.”
“I kind of am, I guess. I love art. I always have. I should have learned to create way before now, but”—she sighed—“life gets in the way sometimes. Decisions get made for the wrong reasons.”
Jack said no more, and Holly went on to the next painting. It was a little boy on a chestnut horse. Clad in jeans and cowboy boots, he looked to be about five or six years old. Mark had captured his youthful beauty with tiny strokes of the brush. The child’s dark hair and eyes gazed outward, as if he were looking through Holly.
“Gorgeous,” she said under her breath.
“You like that one?” Jack said.
“Yes, it’s wonderful. The horse and the child almost seem like one being, and the child’s innocence is depicted so beautifully. I can’t believe Mark is only now showing this stuff.”
“Oh, I think it’s kind of like you said. Decisions get made. He didn’t decide to get serious about his own work until later in his life.”
“That’s sad. I hope this exhibit is successful. In fact, I think I’d like to buy this painting.”
“I don’t think that particular one’s for sale, sugar.” Jack handed her the program. “It’s not listed.”
Holly leafed through the pamphlet. He was right. “Shoot. Well, I’d like to support my professor. I’ll have to find another, I guess.”
Holly chose a painting of an older woman gardening. It didn’t move her quite as much as the little boy on the horse, but it was beautiful nonetheless, and the color scheme would look great in her loft. She and Jack said goodnight to Mark and took the downtown shuttle back to Holly’s loft.
Jack smiled as he entered the passcode. They took the elevator up, and she fished her keys out of her purse and handed them to Jack.
Why had she handed the keys to Jack?
It had been an unconscious move on her part. Weird.
He unlocked the door and followed her in. He set the painting on the floor and smiled at her.
That gorgeous, sexy, heart-stopping smile.
She was a goner now. She knew exactly what he was after, and she wanted it, too.
Was one more night with him too much to ask? Another night of mind-numbing sex that she could remember when it was all over?
“Jack—”
He pulled her to his body, gripped her cheeks with his warm hands, and lowered his mouth to hers.
His full lips were smooth and firm, laced with the lusty spiciness of the Petite Sirah they had drunk at the gallery. Slowly they slid over hers, kissing, caressing, urging, until Holly had no choice but to open to him. The kiss was slow at first, thoughtful, unlike their previous encounters, but its depth evoked powerful emotion from her head to her toes. His lips were numbing, drugging, and they carried her to a place where she felt, for a moment, a happy ending might exist for them. She allowed the illusion to saturate her mind and gave herself freely to his leisurely passion, meeting his gentle tongue with her own, exploring his sweet mouth with a soft fervor.
It was a beautiful kiss, unlike anything she’d experienced. One hand remained firmly on her cheek, and his thumb caressed her as though she were made of fine porcelain. His other hand trailed down her neck and made her shiver as he gently massaged her nape. Such wonderful, talented hands.
The kiss continued. He didn’t touch her breasts, didn’t pull her closer into his arousal. She fought her own desire to grind into him, to unbutton his shirt and trail her fingers over his sculpted chest, his copper nipples. Instead she reached upward and tangled her fingers in his silky hair.
Holly lost track of time. Had it been only minutes? Or maybe half an hour? Still his lips held her in thrall, and the kiss chorused like a symphony through her veins. Perfect.
The perfect kiss.
Her nipples puckered against her bra and moisture trickled between her legs. Still he kissed her lips and nothing more.
When he finally pulled his mouth from hers, he looked down at her, his eyes burning, and smiled.
“Holly,” was all he said.
She wanted to tell him what that kiss had meant to her, that she would cherish it always. She parted her lips, but no words emerged.
“Sugar, that was the best kiss of my life.”
“Oh, Jack, me too.”
His fingers still caressing her cheek, he said, “I’m glad to hear that. Glad this isn’t just one-sided.”
Holly widened her eyes. “How could you think that?”
“You don’t seem to want me like I want you.”
Holly touched his lips, swollen and wet from the kiss. This man was so beautiful “Wanting you isn’t the issue, Jack. It never was. How could any woman not want you?”
He kissed the tips of her fingers and then gripped her shoulders and pulled her against his body. His arousal poked into her belly.
“Feel that? That’s me wanting you, Holly. That’s me dyin’ to make love to you.”
“I—”
“Please. Please let me take you to bed tonight.”
Holly closed her eyes and buried her head in his hard shoulder. He didn’t know, but she had already made her decision. She would take him to bed.
Tomorrow she’d tell him goodbye.