Gavin braced himself for a question about his career. Or the end of it.
Instead, Cynthia looked at Aaron. “Make me understand the deal with the Picasso. You explained it, but I don’t think I understand.”
Gavin let out a chuckle of relief. He didn’t have to ask, to know what the Picasso reference meant, but he was surprised she had any information about a scam like that. Aaron wasn’t usually open about his past.
Cynthia pursed her lips and looked at him. “I’m not dim. I get it, but not.”
“What bit has you confused?” Aaron asked.
“I can’t place my finger on exactly what feels off. If I understand it right, the game works like this. Someone claims to own a piece of art they can’t identify. A relative left it to them, or it found its way into their possession in a similar manner. Then they describe a piece a collector knows is rumored lost but incredibly valuable.”
Aaron nodded. “Sounds right so far.”
Cynthia furrowed her brow. “If no one nibbles at the bait, she has a partner in the crowd who knows to raise the stakes. He offers her a pittance of money, or ups the bid if someone else doesn’t offer as much as they want.”
“Right again.” Gavin swore he could see the gears in her head turning and reflected in her contemplative expression.
“And your conman—woman, whatever—is banking that at least one person in the crowd will decipher what piece she’s describing, but won’t be honest enough to tell her the truth. Instead, they take pity on the poor woman who got gypped out of her inheritance. They offer her pocket change, in comparison to what the real art is worth. A few thousand dollars, to take the worthless piece of art off her hands. That’s how they phrase it to her, anyway. But the buyer believes it’s actually worth hundreds of thousands, if not millions, and intends to keep it for themselves for pennies on the dollar.”
Gavin ginned. “Sounds like you understand it fine.”
“That means the scam only works on someone who’s willing to be as dishonest as the person running the game.” Cynthia sounded curious, rather than bothered.
Aaron looked somber. It made sense. He had firsthand knowledge of how this worked and didn’t like delving into that part of his past. “Yup.”
“I guess that makes it a little hard to get upset about, but...” Cynthia trailed off.
Aaron raised his brows. “Hmm?”
“What if the seller is telling the truth, and they do have that one rare piece and don’t know it? You seem convinced it’s always a con.”
“It always is.” There was no hesitation in Aaron’s voice. “But if it was that once-in-a-lifetime find, there would be other signs. Seeing that takes a bit of instinct.”
The food arrived, and Gavin nibbled at his dish while he watched the conversation unfold. This had to be difficult for Aaron to delve into, but he didn’t look fazed. Something sharp and unpleasant sparked inside Gavin. Jealousy? That didn’t make sense. About what? He’d known this story for more than a decade. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t privy to Aaron’s past. And it wasn’t guilt over what they had done; he and Aaron operated within legal limits with their IPO.
“And you know all of this because— You didn’t get taken, did you?” Concern leaked into Cynthia’s voice.
Gavin marveled at the contrast of innocence and cynicism in her line of thought.
“The opposite.” Aaron corrected her. “I used to do the taking.”
“What?” Cynthia looked perplexed.
“Not me, specifically.” Aaron’s dinner sat untouched. “When I was little, my dad...” He sighed. “A woman like the one at the gallery relies on sex appeal and seeming helpless to draw in her crowds. My father didn’t have the tits or poise to pull that off. Instead, he was the starving father who just needed a few bucks to feed his kid, and he had a rare coin. In his version of the con, a friend told him the coin was worth a couple hundred dollars. His mark would think it was worth thousands but would tell him otherwise. It usually sounded something like, I’m sorry, man; the coin is worthless. But I can’t watch a kid go hungry. I’ll give you a hundred bucks for it.
“And no one ever told him they thought the money was worth more?” Cynthia asked in disbelief.
Aaron shook his head. “Never. Not once. But so you don’t think the entire world is made up of shitty people, part of the scam is reading the mark. Dad never approached anyone he thought would either catch him or be honest with him.”
“Wow.” Cynthia stabbed one vegetable after another, until her fork was a mini-skewer, but she didn’t eat. “It must have sucked for you to grow up with that. I’m sorry.”
Gavin felt a swell of ambivalence at her response. It was too perfect. “Really.”
“Yes, really. I’m not heartless. That sounds miserable.” Cynthia was indignant.
“It’s not that he doubts your sincerity.” Aaron let out a light laugh. “Most people’s first response is assuming the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and that I must be the same way.”
“You run a long, tedious game if that’s the case. But I would have been the person to either tell your dad the coin was worthless or offer him its true value.”
“And Dad wouldn’t have seen you as a mark.”
“Excuse me,” a timid, female voice interrupted the conversation. “Can we get a picture with you?”
An invisible fist clenched around Gavin’s chest. It was the women from the other table, who he tried to pretend weren’t pointing and whispering. Just as quickly, he spilled numbness through his veins and grinned. “Evening ladies.”
“We’re eating.” The good cheer vanished from Aaron’s voice.
That wouldn’t do. Couldn’t be rude to the fans. Gavin hated that the instinct to please existed, but he’d never been able to shake it. He looked at Cynthia. “It’ll only take a minute, if you’re okay with it.” It was a manipulative thing to do. He knew she’d be polite, and if she agreed, Aaron wouldn’t make a scene.
“It’s fine.” Cynthia’s smile was thin.
Gavin slid into the skin of friendly celebrity without further thought, smiling and signing napkins. Except once the first group approached, another couple of women did, and then a husband and wife.
The lines in Aaron’s forehead deepened with each new handshake and flash. Gavin regretted having talked himself into this position. He should have let Aaron shoo the first people off, forty-five minutes ago. Can’t be mean to the fans. The old, familiar voice nagged at Gavin. Never let them see you at anything but your best. He was making a bet with himself about how long until Aaron snapped, when a restaurant employee approached.
“Excuse me.” The man didn’t sound apologetic in the least. “You’re disrupting the other customers. I have to ask you to leave.”
“Of course. We were just going.” Aaron tossed a large bill on the table, and stood. “I’m sorry, ladies and gents,” he said to the small group of people gathered around. “Mr. Jackson needs to be on his way.”
A chorus of groans and protests rose up, but Aaron acted as a barrier and led Gavin and Cynthia out through a back door. Once they were outside, people and hot humid air brushing past them without a second glance, Gavin’s head started to clear.
“What was that?” Aaron asked in a low voice.
Gavin shrugged and tried to look sheepish. “I didn’t want to be rude.” It sounded weak, even to him, despite it being as close to the truth as anything. He turned to Cynthia, rather than face Aaron’s glare. “Are you free a bit longer? We’ll go dancing. Someplace dark, where we won’t be interrupted.” And where it’s too loud to talk.
Cynthia bit her bottom lip and looked between him and Aaron, as if she didn’t want to take sides.
Gavin leaned in and whispered, “I promise it’s fine.”
“I’m in if you both are.”
She thought she was being magnanimous, but her answer was as good as a yes. Aaron wouldn’t argue if she was interested.
A twinge of guilt swelled
inside Gavin at the manipulation, but he stowed it. He got what he wanted. No need to ruin a perfectly good setup.
Chapter Thirteen
CYNTHIA HADN’T BEEN dancing in ages. The reminder made her miss Emily. She had no doubt this would be an experience of a whole new sort. And it sounded like fun.
She didn’t like the tension that flowed between Gavin and Aaron since the first group of women interrupted dinner, but they insisted they were fine with another stop.
“It’ll be fun.” Gavin traced his fingers down her arm, raising goosebumps, and grasped her fingers. He tugged playfully. “We’ll keep our hands to ourselves, unless you beg.”
She tried to give him an incredulous look, but her smile broke through. It did sound tempting. It also sounded like something other than celebrating a business decision with associates. Then again, both men were capable of keeping the physical separate from the emotional, as was she, so they could avoid messy complications if things went further than dancing. “When you put it that way... All right.”
Some of lines of tension faded from Aaron’s expression. Cynthia thought it was an odd thing to relax over, but she was grateful to see it. She didn’t want to be a catalyst for them arguing.
Aaron pointed them in a different direction. “There’s a club within walking distance.”
“That’s convenient.” She teased. “A girl might feel set up.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Gavin’s tone was light. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
Aaron shook his head. “Don’t listen to him. We like the club. We like the restaurant. Your company is the cherry on top.”
She could get used to this kind of attention. Which was a bad idea. After tonight, she was going back to business as usual. There was no harm in everyone enjoying themselves, as long as she didn’t let herself believe it was more than just fun.
The night air was humid and warm, kissing her arms and legs, and when they reached the club ten minutes later, she was grateful to step into the air conditioning.
Two things struck her first—it was loud, and it was dark. As her eyes adjusted, she saw how many people packed the dance floor. They must have the air set on frigid, to keep temps so cool in here.
She and Emily never hit up a place this high end. This wasn’t college kids in jeans and T-shirts, grinding against each other because they were stressed from school and desperate to get laid. The place was full of men and women in suits and ties and dresses. Grinding against each other because they were stressed from work and desperate to get laid.
Gavin settled his hands on her hips and pressed his chest to her back. He was firm and steady. A pleasant shiver ran down her spine. “What do you think?” he asked, his mouth close enough to her ear she heard him without him yelling.
Aaron stood in front of her, attentive gaze saying as much as words could.
She glanced back at Gavin. “It’s perfect.”
He nudged her toward Aaron, who pulled her onto the dance floor. The heat of gyrating bodies was a sharp contrast to the chill in the air, and the patches flowed over her nerves, heightening her senses. With Gavin and Aaron on either side of her, it was easy to lose herself in the beat.
The scents of sweat and alcohol mingled with a wash of perfumes and deodorants, singeing her sinuses and lingering on her tongue. The flash of neon from above the bar was the only real source of light in the room. The experience was a non-stop assault on the senses. It would be jarring most of the time, but tonight she liked diving into it head first.
Gavin glided his hands up her sides, brushed her breasts, then moved back down to grip her hips. Aaron slid his body against hers, his torso hard and unyielding against her chest. It was intoxicating.
When she stepped aside though, the two of them together at least as good—Gavin dropping down the length of Aaron’s body, and gliding up gracefully; the way their lips met before they drifted apart; the spark of passion that flowed between them, almost visible in the dim club.
It was too intimate to watch, but Cynthia couldn’t pull her gaze away. It was sobering to see the two locked in a world of their own, in the middle of this chaos—a sharp reminder she was the one-night stand.
It was also intensely erotic. She could feel the desire flowing from them as Aaron scraped his teeth along Gavin’s neck, before stealing another kiss. Dampness and arousal grew between Cynthia’s thighs. She was tempted to find a corner and finger herself to the images of Gavin and Aaron dancing, seared in her mind. It was dark enough she could probably get away with it.
She was lost in the fantasy, and started when Aaron gripped her waist and pulled her back between them.
“We don’t want to leave you out.” His breath was hot against her neck.
She shook her head. “That’s not how I felt.” She had to shout to be heard. Did anyone else hear that? Did she care? No. “I was enjoying the show.”
“Really?” Gavin moved into her space. He trailed his fingers down her spine, while Aaron splayed his palm on her stomach. “Tucking away memories for later?”
“Yes.” She should be embarrassed or something, to admit that aloud, but it was too easy to let go with these two. “For next time I’m alone.” She kept her pout playful.
“You shouldn’t wait that long.” Aaron’s mouth vibrated against her skin.
“I can’t exactly feel myself up here.” It was tempting. No one was paying attention. No one would see. Then again, with the charged atmosphere in the room, if someone did see, they probably wouldn’t mind. The idea tightened in her nipples, making them strain against her dress.
Gavin leaned in, inches from Aaron. “I’d watch, if you did,” he said. “And I promise not to tell.” He moved to her side, his body blocking his actions from anyone else’s view, lifted up her skirt, and hooked his thumb in the waist of her panties. He shimmied down her frame as he dragged the underwear to the floor.
She stepped out, and he tucked the lingerie in her purse. Cold air kissed her wet mound, the sudden exposure making her slick and coating the inside of her thighs.
“I’m not doing anything in the middle of the dance floor.” She tried to keep the quaver from her voice.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Aaron said. “The angle out here is all wrong.” He grabbed her fingers and pulled her toward a booth near the back of the room. He slid onto the bench and tugged her on his lap, facing away from him.
His erection was rock hard beneath her, digging into her ass and teasing. Was he going to fuck her? Here? That wasn’t what she should be asking herself, but—God—she liked the idea.
Gavin scooted in next to them, sitting sideways with one knee on the bench. He rested a hand on her leg and dragged his fingers along the inside of her thigh as he inched his way toward her sex.
Aaron kissed along the back of her neck. “Can we have a semi-private show? You don’t have to expose yourself. Feeling you squirm against me when you come will be its own reward.”
“I’ll help.” Gavin sought out her hand, covered it with his, and used both to pull up the middle of her skirt. The table and his position would probably hide them from view, but she still felt a tingle of excitement and just the right amount of filthy at the sensation of him spreading her legs and exposing her bare pussy in a crowded bar.
Aaron slipped one hand inside her dress from behind and sought out her breast. When he pinched her nipple, she whimpered.
Gavin guided her fingers to her clit. “Show me how you like it.”
She couldn’t argue. Didn’t have the desire or the voice. With Aaron kneading her breast and Gavin’s touch following hers, she traced circles around her swollen sex. Climax built inside, carried on the notion that this was so wrong and felt so good. Her fingers were slick with her juices, and she rubbed hard, driving right to the edge.
Frustration built inside when she couldn’t slide over. Gavin shoved three fingers inside her without warning, stretching her open. He hooked them up and pumped in time to her self-attentions. Orgasm spil
led through her, and she bit the inside of her cheek until it ached, to keep from crying out.
She slowed to a stop as the pleasure ebbed. Gavin raised her hand to his mouth and licked it clean, before offering her his. She sucked herself from his fingers, relishing the expression on his face as she took her time moving from one to the next.
It was amazing, but it wasn’t enough. “We need to go somewhere with fewer... restrictions,” she said. She leaned back into Aaron and tilted her head toward his. “I want you inside me.”
AARON WAS GRATEFUL for the loose slacks he wore. He was hard enough he might have popped his zipper in jeans. And with Cyn in his lap, digging into him and writhing in pleasure, he almost came. He was tempted to drag her into the nearest bathroom stall, pin her to the wall, and fuck her until she screamed louder than the music.
At the same time, he wanted whatever came next to last longer than five minutes. “Let’s get out of here.” He helped her stand and smooth out her skirt, unable to contain his smirk when she wobbled.
Knowing there was nothing underneath didn’t help his tentative leash on self-control.
The three wove their way toward the exit.
“Excuse me.” A woman stepped in Gavin’s path. “You’re Gavin Jackson? Can I have an autograph?” She produced a Sharpie and tugged down the neck of her dress, exposing most of her breast.
Right. This was why Aaron was in a foul mood earlier. How did he forget? But this was the equivalent of interrupting sex. Gavin would turn her down, and they could be on their way.
“Sure, doll.” Gavin took the pen from her and signed her skin.
Aaron’s irritation dialed up a notch, and his arousal crept back in response. He forced calm through his veins and grabbed Gavin’s hand. “We should be going.”
But a pair of men stood in front of them, and as Aaron looked around the room, he realized several pairs of eyes were on them. “We should be going,” he repeated in Gavin’s ear, unable to suppress his growl.
“Ten minutes.” Gavin waved him off. “Can’t be rude.”
Their Matchmaker Page 9
