by Nicole Snow
“I seriously forgot he was here,” I mutter.
Oops. I said it out loud again. That kiss really popped a few screws loose in my head.
But Ward’s deep, delicious belly laugh puts me back together in all the best ways.
“Nice to meet you, Ward. Congratulations on the nuptials,” Austin says through pinched teeth, staring at us both like we’re crazy people.
“Thanks,” I clip, giving him a look that could murder.
“Pleasure to meet you as well, Anders,” Ward says.
It’s so hard not to snicker when I know he’s deliberately butchering his name.
Austin nods with disgust and disappears into the crowd.
“Sketch Paige?” Ward asks, once he’s out of earshot.
“Don’t ask,” I hiss, fighting to hold in my bitterness.
“All I know is I’d pay more than we’ve bid on today to see the look on that clown’s face again,” Ward says with a chuckle.
Oh, so would I.
We share a triumphant smile as he notices the brandy on the bar beside my arm.
“Is this mine?”
“Yep! I thought you could use a pick-me-up after all the gabbing, and it smells a lot better than that jet fuel you keep in your office drawer,” I whisper.
He picks it up with a smirk and downs it without a second thought.
“Thanks, lady. A couple of fluff speeches and we’ll be out of here,” he says with a wink.
“It’s not so bad.” I sip my champagne and smile. “I made some bids like you asked—nothing that’d drain you dry, of course. I want to circle around one more time and see if I need to up my offers.”
“Feisty and competitive. I love it.” He drapes an arm around my waist. “Need an escort?”
I grin at him so intently my face hurts.
The pain might be worth it.
If this were a real date, it would be a fairy tale come true.
“I was hoping you’d ask,” I say shyly, flicking at a loose lock of hair.
I’m enjoying this too much. I also don’t want to run into Austin alone again either.
“That speech went on forever,” I whisper to Ward later, after the second keynote address.
“Are you ready to escape?” he asks, lifting his brows.
I didn’t know eyebrows could be sexy before his.
“No, they’re announcing the auction winners in ten minutes. I want to check my bids!”
“Let’s do it, Sketch Paige.”
I freeze, then lean over to him so closely my lip brushes his ear. “If you ever call me that again, I’ll kick you square in the balls.”
“You’re dangerous.”
“Yep. Mag warned you.”
Half an hour later, Ward carries the painting and bust I won to the car with an attendant. Once they’re secure in the trunk with Reese’s help, he slides into the back seat with me.
“Did you guys get your party on?” Reese asks.
“No time when you’re bidding exorbitant sums on the beauties we picked up. Plus, I found some douchebag flirting with my fiancée and had to end that shit,” Ward says.
Not funny. I can’t blame him since I haven’t breathed a word of explanation, though.
“He wasn’t flirting, Ward.” I shake my head.
“No? His eyes never left your chest until you turned to kiss me,” he says, this jealous sharpness in his tone that sends a flare up my spine.
“He may find me attractive, but he wouldn’t flirt. I’m not his type.”
“So, not just a random dog without a bone, then? You two know each other?”
A tense silence fills the car.
I’ve said too much. I should’ve just let Ward think he was another thirsty stranger.
“If he was gawking at Paige like she’s at a meat market, I hope you showed him how the rats chew the cheddar!” Reese calls back to us.
We stare at her eyes in the mirror blankly.
“Um, how the sausages get made?” she tries to correct. “Crap, guys, help a girl out. I’ve been reading my niece too many bedtime stories.”
“He was ready to eat her up, that’s for sure. If Winthrope hadn’t been there, I might have broken his nose,” Ward says so seriously I’m not sure he’s joking.
And yes, I kinda like it.
“So, you didn’t come to blows?” Reese shakes her head. “Bossman, I’m disappointed.”
I throw my hands up.
“Can we change the subject?”
“I let him know she’s mine, and no one else’s, Reese. The kid ran off with his tail between his legs. If he ever sees me again and makes a move on her, he’ll regret it.”
I clear my throat, so ready to be done with this.
Ward meets my eyes. “Sorry, his attitude pissed me off. Now, we can change the subject.”
“I’m mortified.” I glare at him.
“Because I don’t want you manhandled by anyone else?”
I raise the privacy screen. “Ward. He wouldn’t have manhandled me, and he wasn’t flirting. It wasn’t funny.”
His eyes widen as he looks at me, drinking in the sour expression on my face.
“Didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” He takes my hand, hooking those massive fingers around mine. “I make bad jokes when I’m mad. I’ve enjoyed the evening with you, and if I’ve fucked that up in the last five minutes. I apologize.”
He’s actually being sincere.
Sighing, I snuggle in closer to him and drop my head on his shoulder, forgetting Reese isn’t someone we need to put on a big show for.
Is he cool with this? He makes no effort to pull away. Okay. Maybe that burn-me-down kiss wasn’t a freak accident.
His arm closes around my waist, and there’s my answer.
I beam at him.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re walking into the penthouse, still holding hands.
“What are you hungry for tonight?” Ward asks, peeling off his jacket.
“I could use a big fat deep dish pizza. And a milkshake.”
“What a combination.” He chuckles and gives me a warm side-eye. “Don’t tell me junk food’s been the way to your heart all along?”
I wink. “Honestly, I’ve got to get out of this dress before I can care.”
His eyes drop to my neckline and slowly trace back up to my face. “That’s too bad. It’s a hell of a look.”
“It’s covered in beads, you mean. This thing weighs ten pounds and I’m wearing a corset under it.”
He gives me this shocked puppy look.
“You need a corset? I’ve seen you in those office skirts, Paige. If that’s a shape that needs improving, then I’m a frigging librarian.”
I’m grateful for the involuntary snort that rips out of me.
It helps hide the cherry blossom blush on my cheeks. “Darling, you have no idea how lucky you are to never have to be a woman in formalwear.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“I’m going to change.” I start down the hall to the elevator—yes, he has an elevator inside this place. “Don’t forget—pizza and milkshake!” I call over my shoulder.
His thick, honest laugh follows me.
I’m soaring.
Ten minutes later, I strut out in pink pajamas and find Ward’s changed too. He lounges on the couch in sweats and no shirt.
Dear God. His muscles have muscles, and possibly their own zip code.
No exaggerating, I’ve never seen a more exquisitely sculpted chest. Definitely not one that’s rocking an eagle tattoo like a mural, a fierce bird sweeping down on some mountains detailed by a black sunrise.
Lip biting time. I want to touch him, but he’s too far away. Plus, there’s no way to play it off when this place is so massive the blind would avoid accidental collisions with ease.
“I ordered the grub. It’ll be here soon. Hope pepperoni’s okay,” he says.
I nod.
As long as you don’t put a shirt on, Ward Brandt, anything i
s fine and dandy.
“You’re staring. Does my casual look bother you?” he asks like he’s reading my mind. “I’m not used to sharing this place and old habits die hard.”
Yes, sir. Very bothered in all the worst ways.
Of course, I eat my thoughts and shake my head, one speed below helicopter. I desperately avoid his gaze until I hear that iron laugh.
“Are you sure? I can throw on a shirt if it makes you uncomfortable.”
For a second, I open one eye and squint at his stupid, sexy grin. Is he dense or just torturing me?
“You could be a sculpture,” I say before I have a chance to shut up.
Eep.
“Yeah? And how would you sculpt me?” he asks, flexing like he’s doing his best Popeye impression.
Now, our eyes connect, but not for long.
We’re both thinking the same thing—my hands, on him.
His growl in my ear.
My fingers exploring his form, straight down the tight fissures of his abs, then lower and lower until I’m teasing his throbbing—
Right. He asked me a question.
I have to take all of him in to answer. The epiphany kicks like a mule.
“You’d be Orion. Totally. A warrior hunter in a pose worthy of the gods, club held high, shield forward, eyes on the heavens and ready to kick some serious butt. And they did the butt-kicking shirtless in those days, I’m pretty sure,” I say with a goofy grin.
His forehead creases.
“A celestial hunter, huh?” He snorts. “I’ll have you know I’m opposed to the assholes who hunt endangered game. A few months ago, I made a hefty donation to a startup big cat sanctuary in this North Dakota oil town.”
“You’re missing the point, Warden. You’re a human rock, ideal for a likeness. Your upper body is contoured, lines and planes everywhere. Holding up a club like the caveman you are and getting ready to whack someone would capture that beautifully. Picture how you’d look if you had a crack at that Osprey guy you hate so much.”
“Shit, when you put it like that...” A devilish smirk spreads across his face, and he stands. “Are you saying I’m beautiful?”
Uh-oh.
“Does this help?” He takes the Orion pose in his cavernous living room, a beast against the background of the finest rock hearth I’ve ever seen. “Well? Don’t keep me waiting forever.”
Kinda hard when I’m awestruck.
“Technically? Yes. You’re almost flawless—from an artist’s standpoint, of course.” Way to dodge the question, Paige.
“I have scars from Iraq.”
“Perfection’s overrated. They’re straight lines and light, and the ink draws the eye right off them. All warriors have scars, Ward. It adds depth. Again, speaking technically. Don’t tell me you skipped mythology class?”
“Grandma would’ve had a whole herd of cattle if I did,” he throws back. “So I’m beautiful with depth? That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I shrug. “Yeah, well, thank your genetics.”
There’s a loud knock at the door.
“That’s the food! I’ll get it, I’m starving.”
Ward rushes ahead of me. “No, you won’t.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I can see through that pink shirt, and nobody will mind my technical beauty,” he says, pressing forward before I can react.
I look down.
Crap.
He goes to the door and I dread finding out if my shirt really is see-through.
Oh, hell.
Maybe it’s not the food, but a coroner coming to record my time of death.
My nipples are definitely visible. And Ward Brandt has been staring at them the whole time, hasn’t he?
Frantic, I look around for something to save me.
A hoodie I’ve never seen Ward wear—he doesn’t strike me as a hoodie guy—hangs from a coat hanger in the corner. I grab it, yank it on, and zip up like a turtle.
The sleeves fall past my hands, so I roll them up to my elbows.
Ward reappears a minute later holding a pizza box and a tall chocolate shake. “Looks better on you than it does me.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” I say sarcastically, looking at my leg where the hem hangs way too low.
“But I preferred you wearing one layer, truthfully.”
I. Am. Dead.
He sets the pizza on the coffee table and presses my shake into already frozen hands. He opens the box and we both grab a slice of Chicago’s finest, tossing them on small plates his butler must leave out for snacks.
Ward takes a huge bite. “Okay, I’m not going to make you tell me why the douchebag calls you Sketch Paige, but who was he?”
“What makes you think he’s a douchebag?”
Ward shrugs, anchoring me with his stare. “Your face was red. You tensed in my arms. Something wasn’t right. It reminded me of the night I met you.” He pauses. “Paige, I’m sorry if I took it too far with that kiss. I just wanted him to leave you alone.”
I nod. “If I have to tell you who he is, I might as well tell you Sketch Paige was what he always called me. He’s my ex-fi—” I stop mid-word. Everyone calls him my ex-fiancé, but that’s stupid. We never made it that far. He’s really just the dumbass ex-boyfriend every college girl has. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”
I bite a chunk of pizza off my fork so I can focus on chewing instead of the heated glare looking right through me.
“You almost said the f-word,” he says quietly.
I look away, studying the pizza on my plate. “He told me he wanted to marry me—”
“A lie men often use to get—”
“Yep. Hindsight, twenty-twenty. I’m not even sure if that was it, though. The night before I broke up with him, I overheard his friend saying he needed to put a ring on my finger before he graduated. He said he needed to ‘trade up,’ and had his sights on the broker’s daughter. I wasn’t good enough.”
“I knew it,” Ward snarls. “I should’ve bashed that fuckboy’s head in when I had the chance.”
An unexpected smile bites my face.
“It was years ago. I’m long over it. It’s ok—”
“It’s not okay, Paige. That was horrible, and I’m more than half serious about collapsing his skull. Also, I lied. I had to know why he called you Sketch Paige.”
I laugh. “You should have just asked. That one’s easier—”
“No, I had to know who he was and what he meant to you.”
It’s harder to pull away from his gaze than pinch a clean bite off my pizza through the gluey cheese.
“I took a sketch class in college. At some point, I realized sculptures come out better with less of a struggle during the process if I just thought about them as a series of sketches. Say I was sculpting a warrior god...I’d sketch his head, his torso, both arms and legs. Building the pieces would be easy. Just a matter of blending.”
He nods, never taking his eyes off me.
“Well, I also realized that my best concepts were a combination of things I’d seen, and that might be harder to remember later. So I started keeping a sketchbook at all times, and Austin joked I was Sketch Paige with the sketchbook. It’s as lame as it sounds.”
“How come I’ve never seen you with a sketchbook?”
“Work takes time, and I don’t have the proper equipment anymore. The stuff I do now doesn’t require elaborate sketches when the pieces are so small.”
I pick up my shake and take a gulp, welcoming the chocolate nirvana distraction.
“Do you still care about that guy?” he asks me suddenly.
I almost spit milkshake.
“No freaking way. Of course not. He was a jerk and I know it now. But he basically told me I was just a placeholder. That still stings sometimes. Makes me wonder if...no, forget it.”
I don’t have to say more.
The way he’s nodding in bitter solidarity surprises me.
It’s a gesture that says he knows my
dilemma perfectly.
SOS! It’s been a week since he kissed me, and I still can’t think about anything else! I text Brina.
The emojis come in ahead of her text.
Tears of joy smiley. Pitchfork. Black cat?
I grin because she’s always been hilariously superstitious.
And he hasn’t tried kissing you again? she sends. Maybe it’s your turn.
With a small gasp, I type back, Ha. You’re on fire tonight. That’s so not happening.
Brina: Has he said anything?
Not really. He’s a tyrant bosshole at work every day. We usually get home around nine, and once we’re in the penthouse, he’s a different man. I thought he might be flirting once or twice, but he’s probably just being nice since we’re stuck together pretending we’re one big happy couple. We’re spending the weekend at his place on Lake Michigan. I’ve got “quarters” there too.
I shouldn’t be so annoyed at having my own luxury rooms rent-free from a billionaire. But when you’re daydreaming nonstop about that shrieking hot billionaire’s lips...
Why? Brina asks.
I don’t know. I think he’s having clients over tomorrow or something, I send back.
Not to be a bitch, but lady... When Brina leads with that, tough love follows. The way I see it, you’ve got a few options. 1. Play this out to the end and see what happens. 2. Just ask him if he’s interested. 3. He kissed you, remember?
How could I ever forget? But Brina isn’t done.
There’s no good reason you can’t return the favor and see where it goes.
She’s too right.
Too bad you weren’t this smart a year ago when you were crushing on your boss. I roll my eyes as I hit send, wondering if marrying a Chicago god upped her relationship IQ.
That was different, Paige. Mag was just my supergrump boss and we weren’t faking an engagement. If people thought I lived with him, I would have just been honest.
This is you we’re talking about, I send. You would have been blunt.
She must be distracted with her posh life and perfect husband because she doesn’t reply.
I get up and change into an asymmetrical pale-blue swimsuit.
Of all the perks that come with Ward Brandt, the indoor pool is the best part, and I plan to enjoy it.
A massive pool fills the room with shimmering blue, spinning reflected light. I’m not expecting the giant occupying one corner of the pool.
