by Dana Stone
Erin left the car and approached the reception area.
“Cam won’t be in today. She’s taking care of other things for me. Are there any appointments booked?” Erin asked, knowing the answer.
“You’re in luck, Erin. We have a clean slate today. Other than a few phone calls, Cam was free to roam the gallery as she often does,” Meredith said sweetly.
Erin nodded. “I can’t blame her for that. As a kid, I visited my favorite artists here every chance I got. These walls were always filled with the best artwork in the world.” Erin smiled. “I’ll be in the ‘dead and buried’ wing.”
Laughter followed her as Erin sauntered away. She heard the phone ring and Meredith’s sunshiny answer before she rounded the corner, heading toward the security guard.
“Good morning, Erin,” Guy Blakely greeted her. “Visiting today, are you?”
She nodded and said, “Cam is off, so I thought I’d better check in. Are things going well here? Nothing walking out of here that shouldn’t?”
Guy stared at her, his face serious. “No ma’am. We’re in good shape.”
“Just joking, Guy. I know our security and staff are up to the job of protecting Cameron’s.”
Guy straightened his portly figure a tad and gave her a grin. At fifty-nine years old, Guy wasn’t old enough to retire, or young enough to be more than a security guard who didn’t need to expend the energy of a cop. Erin patted him on the shoulder and slipped past him, into the room beyond.
All was clean and tidy within the confines of the spacious area. A few sculpted works were scattered about with benches where visitors could sit and reflect on the art displayed. She took a seat in front of her favorite painting and gazed lovingly at the color, style and fine details of Everett Shinn’s Curtain Call, a pastel painting on loan from a New York gallery. The piece would be returned next weekend after this show featuring local artisans had closed.
Voices caught her attention as she headed through the corridors to Cam’s office. Meredith’s firm voice held concern as she replied to the man at the counter.
“Ms. Cameron isn’t taking appointments today. I can book one for you tomorrow with Miss Boucher if you’d like,” Meredith said and clicked computer keys. “Cam has an opening at ten in the morning, will that be convenient?”
“I’m not interested in seeing Ms. Boucher. I wish to speak with Ms. Cameron and I wish to do so now. I know she’s here, her car is in the parking lot.”
The click of her heels on the tiled floor brought the conversation to a halt. Two sets of eyes stared at her as Erin approached. She slowed to a crawl and took in the scene. Meredith appeared uneasy while Tristan flicked his fingertips – a sign of his agitation.
“I’ll handle this, Meredith,” she said and gestured to Tristan to follow her. “We can speak in my office, Mr. Forsyth.” She moved ahead of him and opened the door to her well-appointed digs. Dark mahogany furniture set off soft beige-colored walls. Huge, framed giclee prints and a fine oriental rug finished the look. Overall, the room screamed sophistication.
“Nice,” Tristan said as he glanced around the office.
“I’m sure you didn’t stop by to see my office. What do you want?” Erin asked in her cool, yet husky voice.
“Right to the point, I like that. I’ve considered what you said this morning at the coffee shop. You’re right, I should have come to you with the offer. I apologize if my actions upset you. I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot.”
Tristan’s accented voice left her knees as wobbly as the rest of him did. His abrupt change of tack unnerved her. Why would he say he was sorry and then speak as if she’d agreed to let go of her property? Damn the man.
“I won’t sell my gallery to you or anyone else, Tristan, so forget it. As for your apology, you’re wasting my time. Cameron Gallery isn’t for sale. I’m not interested in having anything to do with you, so return to wherever it is you came from and leave me alone.” Erin glanced at her watch and then at Tristan. “I have to leave soon, so if we’re finished here?”
When he planted his hands flat on her desk and leaned across it, she refused to flinch. His eyes glittered as he stared at her. She took a breath and waited.
“You’re rude and annoying, Erin. I’ve tried my best to understand what this place means to you, but I won’t be put off. I want this gallery. I plan to have it, one way or another.”
His attitude and his words sent shivers along her spine. As well as trepidation, excitement raced through her veins. Why?
Could it be she’d met her match? Was she anticipating the struggle that was likely on the horizon? Was he as formidable as she reckoned he was? She licked her lips. Tempting, the man really was tempting, as well as dangerous. She knew for certain that he’d stop at nothing to get his way and using charm to impress and mold her was a mere tactic.
“You’re on, then. Do what you must, but be prepared. I have no intention or inclination to sell Cameron’s. And after meeting you, if I did want to sell, it would never be to you. Cameron’s won’t go to you without a fight. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must be leaving.”
“Off to see Giorgio, are you? Even he can’t protect you from my eventual ownership.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Forsyth,” Erin said as she held the door open for his departure. She watched the calculating smile that crossed his face as he walked toward her.
His arms swept her close, his lips met hers and before she knew what had happened, she’d wrapped her own arms around his neck and met his deep, impassioned kiss with her own. Time stood still, or so it seemed...
He suddenly let go of her.
Erin stumbled back, her breath coming in shorts bursts, the blood in her veins boiled with heat – she wanted more than just Tristan’s kiss. She’d begun to think she’d lost her mind, never mind her edge, when she noticed the satisfied twinkle in Tristan’s eyes.
In less than a second, she grabbed his lapels and hauled him close, her lips locking with his once again. She’d meant the kiss to be punishing. Instead, she released the hunger she felt for him, for the feel of his hands in private places, the yearning she had for him to take her right then and there.
He slammed the door and they waltzed haphazardly toward the desk. She was bent backwards, his body pressed hard against her. His lips never left hers as she felt his hands knead her breasts and slide down her body to where she wanted his touch most. Yes, yes, take me.
As suddenly as it began, the moment ended, leaving Erin sprawled across the desk, her legs still wrapped around him. She peered into his cooling gaze and knew she was in danger of losing not only the gallery to him, but herself.
Her hands against his chest, Erin gave him a shove. “You need to leave. Now,” she said huskily.
Chapter 4
HE’D GONE. ERIN began to doubt her self-control and competence, as well as her ability to hang on to all that was hers. Tristan Forsyth had used his sexuality against her. He’d blown her caution out the window when he’d hungrily pressed his lips to hers. His sensuous lips had demanded she return his kiss – and she’d obeyed.
Lifting the collar of her blouse, Erin’s temperature hiked a notch at the thought of his kiss, his hands, and the hardness and size of his cock when he’d pressed against her. She’d wanted him alright – and she still did. If he walked back through that door, she’d be the one to press him against the desk and she’d have her way with him. No word of a lie, the man got under her skin like no other ever had. The thing that bothered her most was that though she knew he planned to take everything from her, she wanted him anyway.
The drive to New York City gave Erin time to evaluate her circumstances. Questions about Tristan sped through her mind as quickly as the car ate up the miles. How had Tristan managed to stay single for so long? His sexuality alone was enough to bring women to their knees, to make them beg him to marry them. According to gossip columnists, Tristan was no stranger to hot pursuit by marriageable women. Women with fortunes of their
own. He’d dated models, movie stars and even an opera singer. So, why was he single?
She backed the car into a parking spot behind Giorgio’s studio. The vacant spot was a gift from heaven, she told herself with a smirk. Parking in New York City was always at a premium. How she’d managed to get this spot seemed manna from the parking Gods. Somehow, she was in their favor for once.
“Oh, my darling,” Giorgio said with a wide grin when she’d entered his studio. They exchanged air kisses as he greeted Erin. “It’s wonderful to see you. Come into the back, I have just the dress you’ll need for this shindig.”
The lovely creation fit the mannequin to a T. The fabric draped gracefully over the form. Running her hand over the soft, black crepe de chine, she imagined how it would move with her body.
“Don’t you adore this strapless neckline, Erin?” Giorgio asked as he ushered her around to the back of the mannequin. “Look how it’s tucked neatly in the back to contour to your butt, and this side slit will bring eyes to your sexy legs,” he said, admiring his creation. “A ruby necklace would set this off so well.” He pulled the dress from the mannequin. “Here, try it on. I think it’ll need a few alterations, especially to accommodate your bodacious breasts, but other than that it will do nicely.” Giorgio handed the garment to Erin. She followed him to a fitting cove nestled in the corner of the room and closed the door.
She tugged the snug bodice over the swell of her chest. Then she whirled in place, bent forward, tried to sit without a chair and giggled like a schoolgirl.
“Are you ready to show me the dress?” Giorgio called from beyond the door.
Erin swung out of the room like a model and stood with one hand on her hip. “What do you think?” she asked.
“The question is, what do you think?” Giorgio grinned and turned her completely around, assessing her. He nodded and then said, “The dress is made for a woman whose chest isn’t as voluptuous as yours. I can’t give you more than an inch. Can you mange for a few hours with a bodice that’ll be a bit tight?”
“I’ll make it work. I love it,” Erin ran her hands over the material. “The buttock area is also a pinch tight.”
“Mm, yes, I see. I’ll fix that. It cuts up under your cheeks very nicely, though.”
“I can’t wait to wear it,” Erin said excitedly. She stared into the mirror, then into his eyes and hesitated.
“Something on your mind?” Giorgio asked. “Want to talk about it?”
She’d returned to the dressing room and called through the half open door, “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind attending the opening as my date? You never answered when I asked you on the phone.” She removed his creation and donned her own outfit. When he didn’t immediately answer her, she swung the door open and waited.
Erin saw his smile fade. She fidgeted as his eyes widened and he gawked at her. “Sweetie, you know I’d do anything for you, but you’re hardly my type. I don’t think Jeremy would approve of it, either.” His hand on his hip, Giorgio peered at her suspiciously. “Don’t tell me, you’ve gotten yourself into a corner and need me to get you out of it. Am I right?”
“Kind of. A man is trying take over my gallery. He’s being honored at this opening and tried to con me into going as his date. When he said it would mean a great deal to his reputation to have me by his side, I got pissed off and told him I was going with you.” Erin shrugged a shoulder and said, “Sorry, I just blurted it out.”
His chuckle turned into full-blown laughter. Erin watched Giorgio wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes as his hilarity deepened. “Oh, oh, this is too funny. You want me to act like I’m straight so you can fool this guy?”
“When you put it that way, well, yes. I guess so,” Erin conceded.
“Wait one minute, I’ll let you know.” Giorgio dialed his phone, spoke a language she didn’t understand and then hung up. “It would be my pleasure to attend the party as your date, Erin. Jeremy has no problem with it.”
“What language were you speaking?” she asked.
“It’s a cross between Spanish and French. How I managed to learn it was surprising, even to me,” Giorgio answered with a light chortle. “I’ll have the dress ready by Saturday morning. Can you pick it up then?”
“Sure. Are you up for dinner tonight?” Erin asked.
Crestfallen, Giorgio shook his head. “Jeremy and I have plans. I wish you’d asked sooner.”
“No problem. I’ll grab a bite to eat at the corner café and then head home. Thanks for all this, Giorgio. I appreciate you more than you’ll ever guess. You’re the best.” Erin kissed his cheek and squeezed him tight.
Amidst laughter and good-byes, she left the studio, walked three blocks and took a seat at a table outside the café. A waiter took her order and she settled back to people watch. After she’d eaten, Erin trekked the distance to the studio to retrieve her car. Wending her way into traffic, Erin noticed a Jaguar parked outside the shop next to Giorgio’s studio. Thoughts of the morning rushed her.
Memories of Tristan’s kisses flooded her. So affected was she by the memory, she nearly slammed into the car in front of her that had stopped for the traffic light.
As the light changed, Erin glanced to the right and saw Tristan on the sidewalk. He shook the hand of another man as tall and well-built as Tristan, though she could only see him from the back. Who was the other man? How was he connected to Tristan? Did it have anything to do with Tristan’s interest in Cameron’s? The thought crossed Erin’s mind that Tristan had followed her. When a horn sounded from behind, Erin stepped on the gas pedal and raced through the traffic light as it switched from yellow to red.
Her journey home consisted of traffic delays and more blaring horns. Wishing she’d forgone dinner and hit the highway immediately after her fitting, Erin inched the car forward slowly. It occurred to her that if she had returned immediately, she might not have seen Tristan though.
What was he doing there? Had he followed her to New York or was he there for another reason? She had lots of questions with no answers readily available...
Erin turned off the highway and took the country road home.
Lights filtered across the lawn as she strolled the path from the garage to the back door. Her car was housed for the night and Erin wandered idly, her mind on the upcoming gala. Would Tristan take the hint and move on when he saw her with Giorgio? Though Giorgio was gay, he could act with the best of them. If he could only control the hanging wrist gesture, nobody would be the wiser. With a chuckle, Erin sauntered into the kitchen.
“There you are, Miss Erin. Was your trip to New York successful?” Mrs. Hardy asked with a smile.
“The dress is absolutely gorgeous. I’m picking it up on Saturday. Giorgio said he would alter it in a couple places and have it ready by then. He’s also agreed to be my date for the evening.” Erin went on to describe the dress in detail while Mrs. Hardy set a cup of cappuccino in front of her.
“It sounds wonderful. Too bad you won’t be going with Mr. Forsyth. He’s such a pleasant and handsome man,” Mrs. Hardy said wistfully.
Erin’s spine stiffened. She straightened in the chair and glared at Mrs. Hardy. “You never mind about Mr. Forsyth. I won’t be attending anything with him. There’ll be no matchmaking, understand?” Her husky voice and good-natured smile took the sting out of the warning.
Mrs. Hardy tut-tutted and went about her business with a slight smile on her lips. When the doorbell rang, she said, “I’ll answer that.”
Curious over the voices in the foyer, Erin went through to see who had arrived. Somehow, it came as no surprise when she found Mrs. Hardy chatting up Tristan Forsyth.
Only Tristan would arrive without calling first. He had no manners. With that thought came memories of the kiss they’d shared in her office that morning... With a grimace and a soft groan, Erin marched into the foyer to meet him.
“That’ll be all, Mrs. Hardy. I’ll take it from here,” she said and watched Mrs. Hardy nod and wa
lk away. “Mr. Forsyth, what brings you by?”
“I thought I’d stop to ask if you’d reconsidered my gallery offer,” he said with a raised brow and an enquiring expression.
While he didn’t seem as sure of himself as he had earlier in the day, Erin couldn’t stop the wariness that filtered over her. What was he up to?
“Maybe I’ll just have the answer tattooed onto my forehead so I can lift my bangs when you ask that question. Especially since you ask it all the time and don’t seem to listen to my answer.”
His laughter echoed off the high ceilings and walls of the foyer. “I’d like to see that,” he said.
“Come into the living room. We’ll talk in there. I’m sure Mrs. Hardy has her ear pressed to the kitchen door,” Erin whispered.
They’d taken the same seats as before, facing one another and within reach. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Tristan assess her. He gave her the once-over, twice, his eyes stopping briefly when his gaze reached her chest. So, he was a boob man – who knew? She’d have taken him for a leg or ass man, but from the way he seemed enamored with the size of her breasts, she could see she’d been mistaken.
“Other than my chest size and the gallery, what else has your interest, Mr. Forsyth?” Erin baited him smoothly.
When his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared a tad, Erin’s laughter rang out. “I guess you feel insulted now, am I right?” Tristan asked.
“Not at all. I’ve been ogled before,” Erin answered with a wink. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”
“You’ve spoken to Garcia,” Tristan stated.
She inclined her head and admitted she had. “I was researching you Mr. Forsyth. It seems you like having your own way. I understand completely, because I, too, suffer from that affliction.”
