by Lori Foster
Mouth twitching, she said, “I understand.”
Damn it, she made him feel defensive. “You should come by for a swim. You’d like it.”
She looked appalled by that suggestion. “Uh, no.”
“Why?”
“Not a good idea.”
Impatient, Jude narrowed his eyes. “Again… why?”
“I don’t… that is…” She glanced around, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I haven’t worn a bathing suit in ages.”
“You’re modest.” He watched her closely. “I understand. But it would just be the two of us.”
That made her blanch even more.
“Water inspires me. We could relax, have a few drinks. Discuss your… ideas.”
“One of my ideas is that we could discuss ideas right here, at the gallery, in our regular clothes.”
She could be such a smartass. “My ideas would be more fun.”
With a droll look, she straightened her glasses. “But mine would be safer.”
Safer. As the word echoed through his head, Jude stiffened and retreated a step. Maybe it wasn’t the thought of skinning down to a bikini that caused May distress. Maybe the risk of being alone with him—a man with a past, a man with suspicion still hanging over his head—motivated her.
Her lack of trust bit into him.
But with his reputation, the accusations that had damn near ruined his life, how else could she feel?
“You’re afraid of me.”
Insulted, she went rigid, too. “No.”
She didn’t want to lose his business by alienating him. Jude could respect that. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
“You know I’ll be here till late.”
“Fine. Then let’s go for a drink.”
She shook her head hard. “I don’t drink.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m doing my best here, May. How about cutting me a break?”
Her laugh was too loud and forced to be convincing. “I always thought you were a serious actor, and now I find you’re a comedian.” She patted his shoulder. “As if I’d be naive enough to fall for your polished lines.”
Calling himself an ass, Jude shook off the uncomfortable vulnerability. So May had reservations about being alone with him. So what? After seeing him in the news for a year and a half, and his less than convincing acquittal, any sane woman would be wary.
To lighten the mood, and his own temper, Jude shrugged. “If you change your mind about swimming, come by and see me.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. Sure.”
She didn’t lie worth a damn. “You know where I live, right?”
She bobbed her head. “Yes, yes, I do.”
Hell, he was practically a tourist attraction. “Stupid question, right? Of course you do.” Having a well-known personality move into the area was big news a year ago. Because of the rag mags teeming with accusations, speculation, and outright lies, his location remained big news. Even here, in a town barely on the map, the past followed him.
Jude ran a hand through his hair. “And you accused me of being polished.”
She turned businesslike, using one finger to nudge her glasses higher on her nose while her brows came down in a slight frown. “You have forty acres. Your house is… well, magnificent. A mansion. No one around here has ever seen stone fencing like that. The trees alone are so beautiful that…” The frown smoothed away, her expression eased. “Well, besides all that, you’re a celebrity. I bet everyone has driven past your place a time or two.”
“Have you?”
She rolled her eyes. “I wish I could say I drive by there anyway, but you’d know I was lying. Other than your place, there’s nothing out there but a few struggling farms.”
“So you’ve driven by out of curiosity?”
She stared at him, weighing her words, then came to some conclusion. “I stopped by last week, just looking at things, and your security camera zeroed in on me. I had the odd feeling that…”
“What?”
Her chin came up. “That you were watching me.”
“You should have buzzed for entry. I’d have let you in.” He hadn’t seen her, but perhaps Denny had. Without denying or confirming her accusation, he said, “I’d love to show you around.”
“Right. You want people dropping in, which is naturally why you have NO TRESPASSING signs everywhere.”
“Those are for the damn reporters.”
“You keep your gates locked. The security cameras are always on, scanning the area.”
He touched her again, this time just running his thumb along her jawline. “None of that applies to you.”
“Well, I feel so… special.”
She was special, more than she realized. Not that he’d belabor the point when she insisted on making a joke of his pursuit. He gestured at the display of artwork. “Hey, you’re the only art dealer around. And like I said, I could use some help picking things out.”
A dimple appeared in her cheek. “I appreciate your confidence, but you have incredible taste and you know it. You’re more sophisticated than I’ll ever be.”
Because of his celebrity?
Or because he’d survived one of the most renowned murder trials of the decade?
May had the uncanny ability to sense a change in his mood, and she launched back into chatter. “I do have some new paintings from this wonderfully talented girl, Giselle Newton. She’s only twenty-three, if you can believe that. I’d love to show them to you. Her collection blew me away. She screams talent. She does these really bold interpretations—”
Jude interrupted her by holding out a hand. “Lead the way.”
With the topic back on art and off her personally, May became animated and enthusiastic. She forged through the crowd while Jude dutifully followed. Hell, he loved walking behind May. She had this perky little way of almost bouncing on her low-heeled pumps, as if she couldn’t contain her passion for art and her delight with the gallery.
She darted beyond the crowds toward the back where special lighting showcased larger paintings. Few people mingled here, probably because the size and pricing of the pieces put them well out of their range.
Over her shoulder, May said, “I’d love to see Giselle get a little attention. And we both know whenever you buy a piece, the artist’s reputation grows overnight.”
True, because every half-ass newspaper and gossip magazine recorded his every move. Thinking that, Jude gave a subtle scan of the gallery’s interior. Photographers lurked in every corner, trying to fit in, trying to be inconspicuous.
Vultures.
He detested them all, but never would he show it. Back in the fighting days of his youth, he’d gotten used to cameras. Unlike many of the competitors in the much-criticized, no-holds-barred Supreme Battle Challenge, known as the SBC, he’d kept his face intact. No broken noses, disfiguring scars, or cauliflower ears for him.
Celebrities, icons in the business world, and the rich and famous all attended and bet on the fights. After winning both the middleweight and light heavyweight belts, his popularity grew, and the sport named him an SBC representative. Hollywood noticed him. He received invitations to the right places by both men and women alike.
From there, producers came knocking, first with bit parts, then lead roles.
Almost overnight, his life had changed for the better—and then for the worse. His ability to kick ass, to never quit, to ruthlessly submit other fighters, went from being an admired quality to a suspicious trait. After all, any man who could break his opponent’s arm or dislocate his shoulder without remorse was surely capable of murdering a young woman. Right?
Fucking idiots.
The photographers’ presence didn’t deserve his attention, so Jude looked right through them. He nodded at a few locals who went wide-eyed and twittered in return, turned down a drink offered by a passing worker, and pretended not to see the gaggle of young women batting their eyes at him and licking their lips.
He turned away.
May took one look at him and softened. “I’m sorry. This must be difficult for you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Jude studied one particularly vibrant painting in immense proportions. He found himself drawn into the scene, reacting to the peaceful emotion depicted, the soothing brushstrokes.
“Five feet long, three feet high,” May enthused. “She set the canvas herself. It’ll be even more impressive once framed. I don’t know about your furnishings, but to complement the painting, I envision a three-inch-wide Grenoble style, probably in bronze or silver, maybe half an inch rabbet trimmed in black… But we can decide on that later.” Teeming with expectation, May leaned around to see his face. “Don’t you just love the colors? And that definition? And—”
“Yes.” In a unique, 360-degree angle, the artist had painted an abandoned, weathered barn, offset by trees of brilliant fall color and endless azure sky. Only a stark black crow perched on a broken fence post showed life near what had probably once been a working farm.
Jude didn’t look at the price. “I’ll take it.”
For two heartbeats, May went speechless. “Really?” Her hands clasped together, and she went to her tiptoes. “That’s wonderful! I wasn’t certain about it, you know. I mean, it’s so large that not many of the homes in the area could accommodate it, but—”
“Before I leave, I want you to show me those framing suggestions.” Jude took her elbow. “For now, I want to see the rest of her work.”
Chapter 2
Within half an hour, Jude had purchased three more pieces, and May could barely contain herself. She could tell he really loved the work. He talked about the scenes with her, the techniques used, and they agreed that Giselle was a most talented young lady. Discussing art with Jude had turned into one of her favorite pastimes. Out of all of Stillbrook, he seemed to be the only one who shared her love of art.
Except for the photographers intruding, mentally spinning ridiculous tales about Jude to go with the various photos they took, things were perfect. After his odd mood when he’d first arrived, and all that silly sexual banter, meant to be teasing, she was sure, she had started to doubt the success of the evening.
But now, not only had Jude purchased some remarkable pieces to add to his collection, he wanted her to have them all framed, too.
Still bubbling with success, May led him to a large back room that held her framing supplies, worktables, and numerous shelves. She could hear the crowd in the outer room, probably gossiping about Jude. If only they’d buy something… but they never did. They didn’t have Jude’s appreciation of talent, his eye for quality, or his aesthetic judgment.
Choosing only what she thought would complement the artwork and Jude’s home, May arranged frame samples on a worktable. With him on one side of the table and her on the other side, she displayed the pieces between them.
“When can you have them delivered?”
“Once you make your choices, it won’t take long to frame them. Maybe a couple of days.”
“All right.”
She folded her hands together and waited for him to peruse the collection. But when she glanced up, Jude’s gaze was on her chest, not the frame samples. Heat uncoiled inside her. Feeling awkward, she tugged at the lapels of her suit, trying to hide herself. But like a Rubenesque model, her generous proportions bulged out everywhere.
She glanced up and got caught in Jude’s gaze.
“Well,” she prompted, feeling very agitated and confused, “what do you think? Will any of these work with your décor?”
Rather than answer, he said, “I’m wondering about something.”
May tried to joke her way around her sudden unease. “Uh-oh. With you, that’s usually a bad sign.” She tipped her head, smiling brightly.
“Do you ever wear anything besides suits?”
The question had her blinking twice, and emotionally retreating. “I’m a businesswoman.” She straightened her glasses and smoothed her hands over the front of the jacket, but the lapels wouldn’t lie flat, not with her more than ample bust.
“And businesswomen can’t wear anything else?”
No matter what she wore, the fit was off. Not that she’d let Jude know how he disconcerted her. She’d long ago accepted herself, and if he got his jollies by teasing her, well, so what? He made up for it in art purchases. “Like?”
His gaze slipped over her body. “Something slinky.”
“Right.” Her laugh sounded strained rather than natural. “Slinky is for ultrathin models.”
Jude paused, studying her expression as if he sensed her discomfort. “Slinky is for showing your curves.”
“Yeah, well…” She made a face. “I’ve got plenty of those.”
Her sarcasm couldn’t be missed, and she groaned. She wanted to bite back the words, but it was too late. Already, Jude scrutinized her.
“I agree.” He reached across the table and touched her cheek. “You have sexy, very noticeable curves. You should show them off instead of trying to hide them.”
May went still, held in anticipation and uncertainty. Slowly, he trailed one finger down her jaw, her throat, over her collarbone.
Her glasses nearly fogged. “I’m on the round side and I know it.”
“You’re gorgeous.”
He dipped that teasing finger into her cleavage, and then up and over the swell of one breast. He sounded hoarse when he said, “And hot.”
Heat ran up her neck. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s because you’re not male. Thank God.”
Her eyes nearly crossed. She frowned, stepped out of reach, then cleared her throat. Whatever game he was playing, she had to make him quit before she did something stupid, like grabbing him. “Look Jude—”
“I’m looking,” he promised. “And I like what I see.”
May turned her back on him. If she couldn’t see him, maybe she’d be able to get her thoughts together and form a coherent sentence. “This is ridiculous.” Jude said nothing, and her tension grew. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
“Sure you do.” His voice sounded closer. “I want you.”
Wary, she looked over her shoulder and found him right behind her, eyeing her rump. She jumped forward a step. “Stop that.”
“I don’t think so.” He reached for her.
She spun away, half scandalized, but also… half excited. “Jude!”
“May.”
She stepped back. He couldn’t possibly really want her, not with every bombshell in Hollywood hot on his heels. But… he wasn’t in Hollywood.
He was in Stillbrook.
She cleared her throat. “We’re supposed to be picking out framing, not talking about my clothes or my…”
He stalked toward her. “Sex appeal?”
She continued to back up. “I don’t believe this.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” But she refused to say the obvious, that she wasn’t the type of woman who appealed to a man like him.
Jude didn’t have an ounce of reserve. “Because you don’t want me to picture you in something more revealing?”
With a half laugh, she flapped her hand at him. “As if.”
Appearing dead serious, he kept pace with her until they’d completely circled the table, with May now on the opposite side. She stopped retreating.
“I do. A lot.”
She had no idea what he was talking about. “You do . . ?”
“Picture you in slinky, revealing clothes.” He smiled. “Or no clothes at all.”
She’d had enough. Taking an aggressive stance, May faced off with him. “Stop being so outrageous, Jude. Stop… toying with me.”
“When I toy with you, you’ll know it—and enjoy it.”
Breath strangled in her throat at that provocative promise. Her thighs trembled, her stomach tingled. But this was all familiar to him; he’d likely said similar things to a hundred women, whereas she’d never had anyone be so bold with her.
But she wasn’t a wimp, and she wouldn’t let him rattle her. “All right, that’s enough. All kidding aside, we both know I don’t have the type of figure that’d occupy your thoughts.”
His brows shot up. “Is that so?”
“Or maybe you just think I’m dumb. Is that it?”
Appearing perplexed, he dazzled her with another smile. “I think you’re smart. And sweet. And—”
“Gullible? Because I’ve seen you on television.” May said it like an accusation. “And in movies.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, a man at leisure. “You mean with women.”
“Exactly. And none of them were anything like me.”
“Now there’s an undisputable truth.”
More confused by the moment, she crossed her arms, too, and glared at him. “There. You see?”
“Yeah, I see.” Moving too fast for her to react, he reached across the table and caught her arm, holding her in place as he moved around to close the distance between them. “They’re actresses, May, assigned to the role. I don’t pick them.”
“But you sure seem to enjoy them.”
He laughed. “Maybe you don’t know it, or maybe you’re just playing coy, I’m not sure which, but you’re every bit as sexy as any of those women.”
“You were just making fun of my suits!”
Jude ignored that. “You don’t starve yourself or spend hours in a gym or in front of your mirror, but you’re warm and soft and you’ve got a great ass.”
Oh good Lord. No one had ever discussed her butt so blatantly before. “Most live bodies are warm and soft,” she argued, but she’d lost a lot of her conviction.
“Most people don’t smell as good as you do.” He touched his nose to her temple. “Or act as sweet as you.”
She quit straining away from him. “You really think I’m sweet?” Her brother would argue that point. So would her parents. And some of the people she did business with…
“Mmmm. You don’t look down on others just because of what they have. You don’t judge people by their possessions.” He leaned back to see her face, holding her captive with the intensity of his blue eyes. “And you would never chase a man for his money.”
Something in the way he said that brought May out of the sensual fog of pure fantasy. Jude looked sincere, at least in this. And so incredibly handsome he made clear thoughts nearly impossible.
