A Silken Seduction. Yvonne LindsayЧитать онлайн книгу.
succeed. But there was more to his drive to move up the ranks within Waverly’s—he genuinely loved and appreciated the works he handled. His appreciation for them was obvious in his every word.
Growing up as she had, she’d been surrounded by genuine art lovers as well as those who only saw art as an investment opportunity. She knew well how to tell the difference. Her father had been an intriguing combination of the two, a fact that had made him sought out by individuals, museums and galleries alike for his opinion on specific works.
Marcus seemed to have many of her dad’s qualities when it came to discussing specific works. He was knowledgeable and perceptive in his remarks, but most of all—perhaps most disconcertingly—he was passionate, too. By the time they were sipping coffee and lingering over the simple dessert of mixed fresh berries and cream he’d ordered for them to share she found herself not wanting the evening to end.
Nothing like her usual escorts, he’d only had one glass of wine through dinner and, more importantly, hadn’t pressed her to continue drinking when he himself had stopped. His solicitousness had come as a surprise. From the brief phone call she’d had from him last month, and the subsequent calls and emails she’d avoided, he’d struck her as being both pushy and persistent. And yet tonight he’d been anything but.
As he gestured to the waiter for their bill she found herself wishing she’d met him under different circumstances. Circumstances that didn’t involve his trying to procure her father’s collection. On that thought she realized she’d allowed herself to be lulled into beginning to think there was more to this evening than there could be. But, she reminded herself sternly, the Marcus Prices of this world usually operated on one agenda. She was a conduit to what he wanted. She had no illusions about that.
The waiter laid the discreet black-leather wallet containing their bill on the table between them. Avery went to reach for it, out of habit, but Marcus’s hand settled heavily upon hers.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, an odd expression on his face that was part confusion and part injured-male pride.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m picking up the tab, of course.”
“No, you are not,” he said firmly, lifting her hand from the bill. “I can’t believe you thought I’d ask you out to dinner and expect you to pay.”
“I’m more than happy to split the check. It’s been a lovely evening.”
“Avery, I asked you as my guest. Even if I hadn’t, I still wouldn’t expect you to pay for anything.”
He slotted his credit card inside the wallet and nodded as the waiter returned to lift it from the table.
“Ah, yes,” she said, “this is a business expense for you, after all.”
He shot her another look, and this time there was no mistaking the irritation on his face. “Is that what you think?”
“Well, isn’t it?” she challenged.
He sat back in his chair, his eyes never leaving her face. He gave a short, sharp nod. “It might have started that way,” he conceded.
Avery felt a surge of hope swell inside her. Started that way? So where did that leave them now? Was he as attracted to her as she was to him? The waiter returned, preventing Marcus from saying anything further and she watched as he signed his name on the chit with a flourish, adding a tip in cash at the same time.
“Come on,” he said, rising from the table. “I think we should go.”
She’d offended him, she just knew it. Aside from placing his hand possessively at the small of her back as they left the restaurant and waited for the valet to bring his car around, he said nothing. He saw her settled into the soft leather of her seat before again taking the wheel and driving back toward her home. When he pulled up outside the front entrance she quickly unbuckled her seat belt and turned to face him.
“Marcus, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
He looked steadily back at her and she saw the exact moment the irritation he’d been bristling with left him. He raised one hand to her cheek, his fingertips a featherlight touch on her skin. A touch that left her wanting more, wanting him.
“No, it’s my fault,” he said. “You were right. I did have an ulterior motive when I suggested we go out together. I didn’t expect it to change into something else, that’s all.”
“S-something else?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, leaning forward to close the distance between them. “This.”
The hand that had been touching her cheek slid around to cup the back of her neck before his lips gently descended. The instant his mouth touched hers she gasped a soft sound of surrender. His kiss was sweet, almost over before it had begun but it was enough to leave her senses reeling, her breath uneven in a chest that suddenly felt constricted.
“I want to see you again, Avery,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers, his warm hand still cupping the back of her head, his fingers gently massaging her sensitized skin.
Everything inside her screamed yes! But caution urged her to refuse him. She’d sworn she wouldn’t allow herself to be used again, to be surrounded by fair-weather friends who only wanted whatever she could provide without giving anything, not even loyalty, in return. She thought carefully about how Marcus had been at dinner. Entertaining, solicitous, kind, even. Pushy? No. Nor did he badger her about the collection. Maybe he was different than the others. Maybe he genuinely wanted her. Hopefully about as much as she wanted him—as much as she had, in all honesty, since the first time she laid eyes on him. There was only one way she’d find out. Was she prepared to take that risk?
Avery drew in a shaky breath before replying. “I’d like that. Tomorrow?”
“Sure, tomorrow it is. I have some gallery visits scheduled for the morning but how about I stop by after lunch?”
“Perfect. I’ll be here.”
He waited in the car as she ascended the stairs and let herself in the front door, waving back briefly in response to her salute as she stood illuminated by the overhead light. And as he started the car and headed back down the driveway, Avery wondered whether she’d done the right thing. Was she setting herself up for failure? Or could he turn out to be the best thing that had happened to her in a very, very long time?
Four
Sleep remained elusive all night long and by the time the sun began to show its face, in all its golden splendor, Avery was relieved to be able to push back her tumbled sheets and head for the pool downstairs. A set of punishing laps would clear her head, and maybe go some way to ridding her body of the nervous tension that held her in its grip.
What had she been thinking last night? She’d had one glass of wine—one!—and yet she’d been putty in his hands. Worse, she had wanted to be putty in his hands.
Avery slipped on a jewel-blue one-piece suit and raced down the stairs to the basement lap pool her father had had installed several years ago. She dove immediately into the water and powered straight to the end, flipping neatly and heading back the way she’d come. Again and again, end over end, until her muscles were screaming for surcease. Even then, she pushed herself another four laps before dragging herself from the water and lying on the tiled edge, her chest heaving with the need for more oxygen. Eventually her body calmed, but her mind was not as acquiescent. She still couldn’t get Marcus Price out of her thoughts, and with those thoughts came that tension all over again.
She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her before heading back to her room to shower and change. Once dressed in her habitual jeans and a clean T-shirt, she went to her studio and gathered her things. The day had dawned bright and clear and she was determined to make the most of the light that Marcus had pointed out was so lacking in her painting. Never one for breakfast, she knew Mrs. Jackson would bring out fresh coffee and a muffin