The Masterpiece (Work of Art #3)

by Ruth Clampett

  He looks pleased when he returns.

  “Who’d you call?”

  “Do you remember my old neighbor who helped with the locks and alarm at your place after the robbery?”

  I nod.

  “Well, his older brother, Trent, has a video production company, but before he did that, he hosted a show on collectibles. I’ve arranged for you to do some training with him to get ready for your show.”

  “Why would he do that for me?”

  “Don’t worry about it, love. I’m making it worth his while. We’ll start Tuesday evening.”

  “Oh, Max.” I sniffle and wipe my nose with a tissue.

  “But first, I want you to show me one of these DVDs, so I can see what scared you so much.”

  I hand him the remote. “Be my guest, but I can’t stand to watch anymore.”

  “Oh no, you’re watching.” His grip around my shoulder tightens.

  We watch the polished blonde talk about home design and glide across the screen. She’s supremely confident. It’s incredibly unnerving.

  “Ava, you do realize this broad has been doing this for years? She may be polished, but she is boring with a capital B.”

  “But she never misses a beat.”

  “That’s called good editing. No one’s perfect on camera, but the editors know how to piece it together to look great. And the director knows during the shoot how to get what they need. You’re part of a team. You’re not on your own, carrying all the weight of this thing. It’ll be in their best interest to make you look good.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, and they know you’re new, so they’ll understand it’ll be more work, but the trade-off is worth it.”

  I relax in his arms and kiss his neck. “You’ve made me feel so much better. Damn, I love you.”

  “Besides, you’re so much more beautiful than she is.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses me gently.

  “Really?”

  “And sexy.” He glides his fingers down the length of my thigh.

  “Sexy? Hardly,” I huff.

  “Come on! Those legs, these lips…,” he whispers as he skims his lips across mine.

  My head falls back against his shoulder.

  With every touch and whisper, he shows me his love over and over. In moments like this, we’re in our own universe, stars shining brightly no matter how dark and uncertain the night sky.

  Chapter Twelve / Going for the Gold

  Don’t threaten me with love, baby. Let’s just go walking in the rain.

  ~Billie Holiday

  The lights are dim and the music pounds as Max takes my hand and guides me inside the old building. Joe wasn’t kidding when he said it would be a wild party. His loft, a refurbished warehouse in Little Tokyo, is packed with people, and judging from the looks of the crowd, it’s primarily artists and musicians. I step closer to Max, a little nervous from the wild energy and sea of unfamiliar faces. He wraps his arm around my waist as we weave our way over to Joe.

  “You guys made it!” he exclaims, pulling us both into a big hug. “I wasn’t sure we’d lure you out of your love nest in Malibu for a party. It’s really cool you came.”

  “Happy birthday, man,” Max says.

  I smile at Joe. “We wouldn’t have missed it.” I feel the festive vibe and am ready to enjoy an evening where we forget about the changes ahead of us.

  He gestures to an elaborate set up to the right. “The booze is over there. And I just saw Jess and the gang. Get a drink and make yourselves at home.”

  We wander to the bar, and I notice the huge paintings on the walls. His work looks as if Jean Paul Basquiat collided with a graffiti artist trying his hand at tattoos. It’s wild and hip, but will it stand the test of time? I’m doubtful, but I like Joe, so I hope I’m wrong. After all, Jonathan’s wife, the big art collector, took a chance on his work. That must say something, even though she isn’t exactly my cup of tea. And the good news is Joe’s making money now, since he’s become popular with a lot of people in the music industry.

  Max gets us a couple of beers, and we say hello to Xio and Laura, who warily watch Jess dance with Brian and Thomas.

  “Why aren’t you dancing?” I tease Laura.

  “Are you kidding? Look at them. I need at least a couple of drinks in me before I’ll cut loose like them.” Jess is dancing between the two guys and moving to the musings of the latest rap music. I have to admit they look hot.

  “That Jess…the girl knows how to move,” Max says with a grin.

  As the night goes on, we also spend time with Jackie and Michael, and Xio and Sam. I dance with Thomas, while Max stands off to the side with his arms crossed, smiling and watching my hips sway. Periodically, women approach him, as men do me, but we work as a team, deflecting and rebuffing. We are like stealth ninjas—newly trained professionals in the relationship game.

  Our skills are truly tested when some chick, who apparently was a member of Max’s old fan club, interrupts us. She hands him a red marker and asks him to sign his name on her body, just above where her tank top ends and her breasts continue. There are other signatures across her chest from a number of the artists in attendance, including Joe. As much as I hate looking, it’s like a train wreck you can’t peel your attention away from. As my gaze rolls over her abundant chest, I note that all the signatures are men’s names. Figures. I hold my breath and look over at Max.

  “My girlfriend has to sign for me,” he responds, handing me the Sharpie. Breast girl’s face falls. She gives me a dirty look before taking the marker back and walking away in a huff. I breathe a sigh of relief before I elbow him.

  “Gee, thanks!”

  “Would you have preferred the alternative?”

  “Not unless you would’ve enjoyed a catfight. Anyway, I’m so glad she didn’t have me do it. If I’m going to touch a girl’s breasts, those aren’t the ones I’d pick.” I scrunch up my nose thinking about her over-inflated surgically enhanced breasts.

  “Oh, you’ve got me intrigued now,” Max says playfully, pulling me close. “Whose breasts would you touch? And, even more importantly, can I watch?”

  “Maybe,” I tease him with a coy smile.

  “I know! Paloma! I know for a fact she’s a fan of your breasts.”

  I laugh. “Good guess, but actually I was thinking of Jennifer Lawrence. So, if she comes looking for me, I’ll let you in on the action. But watching only…no touching. You’re mine only. I don’t share.”

  He gets a faraway look in his eyes, as if he’s imagining me with another woman. He shakes his head vehemently. “No, on second thought, I don’t want to watch you with another woman. No one touches you but me.”

  I grin, pulling him close. “That’s right…like minds and all that. No sharing, ever.”

  “What are you two going on about?” Jess asks, joining us.

  “Well, actually, we were talking about me touching other women’s breasts.”

  “Really,” she says, with one eyebrow raised and a devilish smile. She turns to Max. “I bet you’d love to watch some of that. Straight men just love to watch two women get it on.”

  Before he can respond, the music shuts down and Xio whistles loudly to get everyone’s attention. A large cake is rolled out, covered with candles and sparklers, and the crowd breaks into a rowdy rendition of “Happy Birthday to You.”

  Joe beams, and when the singing stops, he steps forward. “First, I wanna love up my beautiful Xio for putting this together. This is the best birthday ever, girl.” He hugs her, she kisses him, and everyone cheers.

  “And while I have your attention, thanks everyone for helping me celebrate thirty years in this crazy-ass life of mine. Also, a special shout out to my friends that traveled some distance to be here: Jackie and Michael, Cleo and Will, and my brother Hank, who just got cast in the traveling show of Chicago. So, when it comes to L.A., I expect all of you to go see him.”

  Hank takes a theatrical bow and everyone claps loudly.

/>   “Yeah! Hey, thanks to Zane for selling the paintings that are paying for this party. Oh, and a big congrats to our girl, Ava, who I just found out scored the coolest job hosting a TV show about artists…So, all you artists out there be extra nice to beautiful Ava. Hopefully, she’ll remember her good friend Joe when they’re looking for artists to feature.”

  Max has an uncomfortable look on his face.

  “I also hear that she’ll be moving to the Big Apple for this job, so watch out, New York…here she comes!”

  There’s a cheer, and Joe goes on with a few other announcements, but I can’t hear while my heart pounds in my ears. With so very few words, Joe’s managed to douse Max and me with icy cold water. The sexy, loving vibe is shattered, and I’m suddenly deflated.

  Just a moment later, an artist named Seamus, who has a reputation for acute marketing savvy, pulls me aside to talk about his new show. Immediately, one of those damn art sluts corners Max. I swear, they have radars in their fake tits.

  Between the swirling crowd, loud music, and dramatic lighting, everything’s moving too fast, and I can’t even think straight. As Seamus describes his most recent accomplishments, I look at Max, whose expression is unreadable as he looks into the distance while the art slut babbles on. I can tell he’s shutting down.

  Enough, I resolve to pull up my big girl panties and take control of the situation. I explain to Seamus that I’d be happy to talk about the show another time, and he hands me a business card before I step away. Sliding behind Max, I wrap my arms around him and kiss his neck.

  “Wanna dance, handsome?” I interrupt.

  I feel him relax. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Excuse us.” I give the pissed off redhead in front of him a smug smile.

  I take his hand and lead him through the crowd until we’re on the edge of the dance floor. The music is slow, so I wrap my hands around his neck and hold him close. There’s a lot going on around us, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he focuses his gaze solely on me. He holds me as we move slowly together, and I feel his need, his overwhelming want through every fiber of my being.

  I’ve dressed a little more provocatively than usual tonight—probably from a powerful desire to keep Max’s complete focus on me. We don’t have many moments like this left before I leave.

  And, although I was right when I guessed there would be a lot of beautiful women at this party, I shouldn’t have worried. We’re in our bubble, even with people swarming around us.

  He looks down and smiles. “You picked quite the night to dress sexy.”

  “You like?”

  “I love.” His jaw flexes as he pulls me closer. He looks up for a moment.

  “So what did that fucking opportunist Seamus say?”

  “Nothing I was interested in. And the redhead?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t listening.”

  “As for my outfit, I knew there’d be a lot of distractions tonight, and I wanted to keep you on your toes and wound up.” I bite my bottom lip provocatively.

  “Well, your plan is working. I’m wound up, all right.”

  “I’m wound up too. Just look at you!” He’s wearing the jeans that fit like they were tailored just for him with his fitted black shirt. Between his gorgeous face, height, and perfect physique, he’s everything I desire. “You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”

  “Ever?” He arches his brows as he waits for my answer. He’s confident about his looks and prowess, and it gets me even more worked up.

  “Oh, yes.” I feel my cheeks color.

  He smiles, leading me in a slow spin before taking me into his arms. “What shall we do about it?”

  “When we get back to Malibu, I’m going to model my new lingerie. I went shopping at Agent Provocateur last week with you in mind. And once you’re good and aroused, I’m going to slowly undress you and run my hands—”

  “Wait a minute, are you wearing it now?”

  “Yes, I am.” He looks so captivated, I imagine he’s picturing what I’m wearing underneath my clothes.

  “Black?”

  “Yes, very sheer and very tiny. My nipples peek out of the top of the lacy bra, and my ass…well, you get the idea.”

  He swallows hard as his hands move down low on my hips. “What are we waiting for then?”

  We barely have time to say our good-nights before he ushers me to the car. He drives down Sunset Boulevard a little fast for my taste, but I appreciate the reason for speed. At a stoplight, he turns to me with a dark look in his eyes.

  “I can’t wait. I want a preview.” He gestures to my breasts.

  “Are you sure? We still have a long drive.”

  He nods and hungrily watches my fingers unbutton the first few buttons of my little top. I part the fabric, revealing my breasts spilling out of the most delicate black lace. I can feel the flush move across my chest, and my nipples harden under his gaze.

  “Do you like it?” I whisper.

  “Fuck…” He groans and his breathing gets raspy.

  It takes great resistance not to look at his lap. If he’s already aroused, I won’t be able to keep my hands off him, driving or not.

  His fingers tighten over the steering wheel as he shifts in his seat. The light changes to green. Suddenly, he makes a sharp left turn and guns the engine.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Your place. I won’t make it all the way to Malibu.”

  I squeeze my thighs together and tighten my seatbelt, saying silent thanks that my apartment’s only minutes away. Nothing’s hotter than a worked up Max. People complain about the high cost of sexy lingerie, but you can’t put a price on the look of want that my little reveal sparked. My night’s never looked more promising.

  I wake up blurry-eyed. My black bra dangles from the headboard, and my tiny panties hang from the Jane Austen collection in my bookcase. We crashed at my apartment after our night of wild lovemaking. I blink, adjusting my eyes and my mind. The depth of our passion for each other is startling in the morning light.

  I peel myself off Max and look for my pillow. It’s suspended between my mattress and the wall, inches from the floor. Holy hell. We didn’t even drink that much last night. Why is the bed pulled away from the headboard? Max is twisted up in my sheets, and I remember our night of lovemaking. If epic sex were an Olympic event, Max would have won a gold medal for sure.

  I shimmy off the bed and put on my silk robe before heading to the kitchen to start the coffee. While it brews, I splash cool water on my face, brush my teeth, and try to tame my wild nest of hair.

  Before I head back to the bedroom, I rummage through the catchall drawer for an old memento from a kids’ party I attended. Bingo! I rework its shiny surface with a Sharpie and carry it and our coffee back to the bedroom.

  I sit on the edge of the bed and watch him slowly stir to the smell of freshly brewed java. He smiles before he opens his eyes. Oh, but when those brilliant blue gray eyes open, they’re something to behold.

  “Good morning, handsome. Your coffee is on the nightstand.”

  “You’re too good to me, Angel. Thanks.” As he slowly sits up, he looks down at the foreign object around his neck. With a puzzled look, he runs his fingers along the red, white and blue striped ribbon and lifts it up to examine the fake gold medallion.

  “What’s this?” He reads aloud, “Maxfield Caswell, USA, Gold Medal Winner.”

  I give him a playful thumbs up. “You won the gold medal last night.”

  He grins. “Well, it was a team effort. Where’s yours?”

  “We can share. But you get it first, since you led us to victory.”

  I’m tempted to take a picture because of the delectable way he looks as he sips his coffee. Wild hair, naked except for the sheet gathered around his waist, and the silly gold medal dangling from his chest. He’s never looked happier.

  The best part is, he wears that damn thing all day long.

  In the early afternoon, we curl up tog
ether on the couch. I’m doing some Internet research on my laptop for a new project Nick has given me, and Max is checking his emails on his iPhone when the front door bursts open. Riley and Dylan tumble in, laughing, and drop their luggage on the floor.

  “Come here, my crazy girl,” Dylan says, and Riley fall into his arms. A moment later, they’re kissing passionately, and it’s obvious they haven’t see us here.

  “Hi guys,” I finally call out, for fear they’re going to start doing the wild thing in front of us. Vivid memories of the dining room table episode are still fresh in my mind.

  Stunned, they pull apart and turn toward us.

  “Oh, hi…sorry. I didn’t know you guys were here. I didn’t see your car out front,” Riley says with a gasp.

  “Blinded by love,” Max grumbles under his breath.

  “How’s the wine country?”

  “Perfect,” Dylan replies, pulling Riley closer.

  “Yeah, perfect,” she repeats, smiling.

  There’s an uncomfortable moment where none of us says or does anything until Riley tucks her hair behind her ear. Her hand sparkles, and my breath catches when I realize that she’s wearing a diamond ring.

  “Riley, what’s that on your hand? Is there something you want to tell us?” I smile from ear to ear.

  Riley hesitates. I know my girl. She doesn’t want to flaunt her big news, when Max and I are trying to balance on a high wire and are perilously close to falling. Before all my drama, Riley would have called me with the news right after it happened, but now she’s hesitant.

  She finally holds her hand out. “Yeah, Dylan gave it to me.”

  “You’re engaged?” Max asks.

  I hear the pain in his voice, and I only hope they can’t. I deflect his anguish by jumping up and giving them both a big hug.

  “That is so exciting, guys…the best news! I’m so happy for you.”

  They’re both glowing and they smile warmly. Riley shows me her ring and I swoon. It’s so beautiful.

  Meanwhile, Max has regained his composure and he joins us, hugging them both as well.

  “You two work fast,” he says.

  “Yeah, well, I know what I want, so there was no point in waiting any longer.” Dylan sighs as he takes Riley back into his arms.