And then he proceeded to show her how right he was.
***
The next week flew by for Sam. After the afternoon at his loft with Diane, his muse hit him hard. Maybe it was because he stopped expending all his energy trying to pretend he wasn’t thinking about her, or maybe it was just coincidence. But whatever the reason, he spent the next several days creating what was no doubt the sunniest collection of his life. He hadn’t even known he owned so many shades of orange and yellow. But he couldn’t deny it, the pieces were some of his favorites.
The nights had all been spent with Diane. After that second night when he crept into her room again, she’d started visiting him in the evenings. Somehow, that had led to her sleeping over, without either of them even bringing the topic up. As uneasy as the thought of it was, it wasn’t like it meant anything.
They were just two people who happened to have amazing chemistry, hooking up while the moment was right. And given that, in-between bursts of talking, they spent most of the night going at each other like crazy, it only made sense that she stay over.
Except she had a charity function tonight and wouldn’t be coming over, and tomorrow night he’d be busy preparing for the following evening’s group art exhibit down at the gallery.
When he’d first discovered they wouldn’t be seeing each other for two nights, he’d told himself it didn’t matter. Between prepping for the show and working on his collection, he was crazy busy anyway. But now, here he was, nine o’clock at night and pacing the fucking floor of his loft. A strange sort of restlessness curled in the pit of his stomach, and no matter how hard he tried to put it to creative use, it wasn’t working. So, with a glance at his clock, he grabbed his jacket and tossed it on, then headed over to Beringer’s.
Zoey was there when he arrived, manning the bar as usual. Sometimes he wondered whether she actually enjoyed slinging drinks as much as she seemed to, or whether it was more the fact that it irked her parents. Either way, she was good at her job—swift and efficient.
When she saw him slide into his normal spot at the bar, she smirked and stalked over, ignoring the few guys who yelled out their drink orders while waving bills at her. “Well, look who’s finally reappeared.”
Since he’d been expecting her to rib him for being M.I.A. most of the week, he only gave her a casual grin.
“Where’ve you been?” Zoey slapped her palms onto the counter in front of him.
“Busy.” When she scowled at him, he added, “Got a visit from my muse. Been working on a new collection.”
She leaned across the countertop toward him. “And?”
Frowning, he motioned for a drink. “And what?”
After giving him a look that said she wasn’t buying his attempt to sidestep her questions, she turned and snagged a glass and his favorite whiskey, then settled back in front of him to pour. “I know you, Sam. Only one thing would keep you from coming in at night. Who have you been shacking up with?”
When he didn’t say anything, just lifted the glass she slid over to him and took a sip, a look of surprise transformed her face. “It’s Diane, isn’t it? You’re still seeing her.”
Since it wasn’t really a question, he merely shrugged.
“Oh my god,” she murmured in a shocked voice. “You’re falling for her.”
“What?” He scoffed at his friend, trying to ignore the feeling of discomfort that crept into his gut. “Naw, we’re just hooking up.”
Zoey gave him a shrewd glance, then left to fill some orders. He bided his time until her return by steadily working on the contents of his glass. By the time she slid in front of him again, he’d downed more than half of the dark liquid, and it had sparked a pleasant burn in the pit of his stomach.
“That’s not a ‘just hooking up’ look. It’s an ‘Oh shit, what did I get myself into’ look.”
He shifted on his stool and smirked to hide his uneasiness with the subject matter. “You’re fucking crazy.”
Her look was appraising. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Just really, totally unexpected.”
“I’m not falling for Diane Milstrom,” he insisted.
She rolled her eyes and then her gaze landed on the other side of the bar. “Prove it. Go flirt with that blonde over by the pool table. She looks like just your type.”
Without thinking about it, he turned his head to search out the woman. He spotted her almost immediately, wearing a black tank top that she must be freezing in and tight jeans that revealed a hint of the thong she wore. She was standing with a group of friends and shaking her ass in a way that said she was looking for attention from the opposite sex.
Zoey was right, the girl practically had the word “Slutty” tattooed on her lower back, and she was just his type. But even though he’d normally be all over that, he found he wasn’t tempted.
Smirking, he turned back to Zoey. “What, are we in third grade? Are you double dog daring me?”
One of Zoey’s brows arched. “The Sam I know wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to hit on a girl like that.”
Damn it, she was right. And apparently, they were still in third grade because much as he wanted to ignore her jibe, he instead found himself rising to his feet. “Fine, you’re on.”
She shook her head and chuckled as she grabbed a couple of beer bottles and popped their caps, then slid them over to him. “You could just admit you have feelings for Diane instead.”
Glowering at her, he snatched up the beers, then turned and headed for the blonde. Zoey’s mocking laughter followed him all the way there.
One of the girls in the blonde’s group saw him approaching and whispered something to the rest. They all turned to him, thinly veiled hope in their expressions. It made him feel a little too much like prey, and he fought the sudden, uncomfortable urge to turn and run. Instead, he leveled his best grin on the blonde and said, “Hey.”
“Hi.” Approval glinted in her eyes as she took in his appearance and stepped forward away from her friends. As if in unspoken agreement, the rest of them turned away. Without wasting any time, she asked, “What’s your name?”
“Sam.” He never gave his last name. Last thing he needed to come across was a gold digger who recognized the family connection. “Yours?”
“Karlie.” She gave him a teasing grin and motioned toward the beer. “One of those for me?”
He handed over the beer in his left hand, and she took it without peeling her eyes off his face.
“What brings you here tonight, Sam?”
Trying not to wince, he launched into the usual get to know you conversation. Normally he enjoyed meeting new chicks, got a buzz off the chase, but as he and Karlie talked, he found he just wasn’t into it.
When Karlie lifted her hand with its alarmingly sharp nails to brush her bleached blonde bangs from her eyes, he couldn’t help but think of hair of another hue. Warm honey instead of light straw. Gorgeous green eyes instead of washed out blue.
“So, Sam,” Karlie said, breaking him out of his haze of thoughts. She leaned forward and rose to her tiptoes, sliding her scary nails along his stomach as she whispered into his ear, “Let’s cut to the chase. You wanna get out of here?”
Generally, he appreciated it when girls were forward. To tell the truth, at any other time, he would’ve been all over a chick like Karlie. But tonight, he just wasn’t.
You’re just tired, he reasoned with himself. Got a lot of shit to do before the show day after tomorrow.
It didn’t have anything to do with Diane, or him falling for her as Zoey claimed. The thought of that was simply ridiculous.
He chanced a glance over at Zoey. She was busy filling drinks for a group of girls that had recently wandered into the bar.
Without taking the time to think it through, he took a step backward so that Karlie’s hand fell away from his body. Throwing her an apologetic smile, he said, “Sorry, Karlie. It’s been a long day. I should really head home.”
She murmured some sort of protes
t, but he didn’t stick around to listen. Instead, he set the remainder of his beer down on the nearest table, then snagged his leather jacket and slipped out the front door before Zoey could see him.
It didn’t have anything to do with Diane, but as he headed back toward his apartment, he couldn’t help but think about her. Giving in to temptation, he pulled his phone out and read the time. It was past midnight.
Taking the chance that Diane was home from her charity function, he dialed her number. She answered after the second ring, murmuring a sleepy hello.
An automatic grin crept to his face. “Did I wake you?”
She audibly yawned. “Sorry. Long day.”
“It’s okay. Me, too.”
There was a brief moment of silence before she asked, “What are you up to?”
Somehow, telling her he’d just left Beringer’s didn’t seem like the thing to do. Not that he felt guilty about Karlie or anything. Given their non-relationship status, that would be stupid.
Instead, he said, “Just about to hit the sack. Wanted to make sure you got home okay.”
“Yeah.” She gave another sexy yawn. “All good.”
The sudden urge to head to her place almost had him doing an about face, but she was clearly tired. Besides, he really did have a lot to do tomorrow.
Speaking low into the phone, he murmured, “You coming to my exhibition night after tomorrow?”
Her marked pause was telling. Though he’d mentioned the show to her earlier in the week, he hadn’t actually invited her. He’d wanted to, but it hadn’t seemed right. The thought of doing so had seemed too much like a date, and that was territory they were clearly both avoiding.
“Sure,” she finally answered, her tone casual. “I’ll be there.”
Sam released the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. “I’ll see you there, then.”
He was just about to hang up when another thought occurred to him. “Oh, Diane.”
“Yes?” she replied in her sexy, sleepy voice.
He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “Don’t wear any underwear.”
Her sharp intake of breath was all the response he needed. Grinning, he hung up the phone and slid his hand into his pocket to shield it from the cold. With renewed zest, he hurried back toward his apartment.
Chapter Twelve
Diane anxiously smoothed down the front of her dress as she stared at her reflection in her full-length mirror. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. It was just an art exhibition. She’d been to plenty of those before. In fact, she’d even been to one of Sam’s, back when she and Andrew had been dating.
But this was the first time she’d be going to one of Sam’s shows after they’d slept together. And after the time they’d spent together, she honestly didn’t know what to expect.
Never in a million years would she have guessed when she decided to meet up with Sam at Beringer’s that it would lead to this. A hot, random hookup, yes. But spending a multitude of nights together? Chatting about anything and everything in-between their marathon sex sessions?
It was crazy.
Even crazier was how much she missed his presence after not seeing him for two days. She’d gone her whole life without him in it, and now, after a mere few days, not having him around just made things seem…empty.
Be careful, Diane.
The things she was feeling were dangerously close to real, honest to god emotions. That was the last thing she needed to feel. Not for Sam.
He’d made it very clear what this was between them, and a relationship it was not. If she started to think otherwise, she was bound to get hurt.
Besides, this is what you wanted, too. No strings, bad girl sex, remember?
The fact that she’d gotten more than she bargained for with Sam’s rock-her-world lovemaking didn’t change that.
Once this itch between them was scratched, they’d be going their separate ways, and she was okay with that. She had to be okay with it.
Even if some small part of her wished things had been different. That Sam was looking for more than admittedly hot sex.
She took one last glance at the dress she’d picked for the occasion, a black, flapper inspired number with a beaded fringe hem that stopped a few inches above her knees, fitted sleeves, and a scooped neck that dropped low in the back. She’d picked the dress because the dark color was such a marked contrast to her skin and hair, which she wore in loose curls floating around her shoulders. The black gave her skin a sexy glow, with the added benefit of being short enough to lend her a bad girl vibe.
Plus, she had a feeling it was going to drive Sam crazy, which was a fun little bonus.
Satisfied that everything was in place, she grabbed her long, black coat out of her closet and left her suite of rooms. To her surprise, when the door opened to the elevator that a previous resident had installed in the townhouse, her father stood inside. He was dressed in his usual business suit and looked as busy as ever while scrolling through his phone.
Glancing up at her, he uttered an impatient, “Well, are you coming or not?”
As Diane stepped onto the elevator, it struck her that, despite all their comings and goings and the fact that they lived in the same house, this was the first time she’d seen him in well over five days.
“Do you have a dinner meeting?” she asked in an attempt to make polite conversation.
“No,” he said, his tone clipped. “I have a few things I need to discuss with Andrew Everly regarding his company’s expansion. I’ll be seeing him at the youngest one’s art exhibition.”
Shock made her burst out, “That’s where I’m going.”
Immediately, she regretted her impulsive confession. Technically, she had no reason to go to the show, no one there to see except an ex-boyfriend who was now happily engaged to someone else.
“It is?” When he speared her with a glance, she braced herself for him to question why she was going. Instead, he merely said, “We can ride over together then,” and returned his gaze to the screen of his phone.
Should have guessed. As per usual, if a subject matter didn’t involve him or something that could benefit him, it held zero interest for him.
It was only once they’d slid into the back of a taxicab that Manny had hailed for them that her father deigned to speak to her again.
“I’m surprised you’re wasting your evening with this nonsense.”
She blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“This exhibition,” he said. “I’ll only be there because of Andrew. I would think you’d have something better to do than spend a night staring at bad art.”
She and her father had never discussed art before. It didn’t surprise her that he seemed to hold little regard for it. If the price tag wasn’t in the millions, he generally wasn’t interested. But still, some part of her couldn’t help herself when she said, “I like Sam Everly’s paintings.”
It was only the truth. Sam’s taste in art was no doubt too modern for someone like her father, but that didn’t mean his pieces were bad. Far from it. There was a restless sort of beauty in his artwork—much like the man himself.
Her father scoffed. “They’re garbage. The products of a minimally talented hack who has too much free time on his hands.”
Denial and an instinctive need to defend Sam clawed at Diane’s throat. But since that would just seem strange to her father, she kept her mouth shut.
“If I were Andrew, I’d force that lad to go into the office,” he grumbled. “Do the work he was meant to do instead of pissing away their father’s hard-earned inheritance on this nonsense.”
Anger strummed in her veins at her father’s words. As if he would know the value of true art. As far as he was concerned, if it wasn’t gilded in gold, it meant nothing.
“If their father were still alive, no doubt he’d live in shame at how little his youngest son has accomplished,” he muttered. “Honestly, I’d be surprised if he ever amounts to anything.”
&n
bsp; Though her father had never made his lack of respect for Sam’s lifestyle a secret, hearing his words now affected Diane in a way they never had before. Clenching her gloved hands in her lap, she turned to stare out the window.
The rest of their trip passed in silence. For once she was glad for it, instead of feeling that familiar knot of despair in the pit of her stomach. Her entire life, she’d wished for a better connection with her father. Now, for the first time, she was starting to wonder if their inability to communicate was such a bad thing. They were clearly two very different people, with radically different ideas of what did and didn’t matter in life.
Maybe I’m more like my mother than I thought.
Her mother, with her open and carefree views of the world and the speed with which she championed even the littlest of causes had always seemed such an enigma to Diane. But now she was beginning to think maybe her perception of her mother had always been colored by her father’s opinions.
It was a staggering realization, and one she didn’t know how to process. So she tucked it away for now. She could always further examine it later.
By the time the cab pulled up to the location of the Soho art gallery, which actually wasn’t too far from Sam’s place, Diane was more than ready to part company with her father. She murmured a hasty goodbye as they slipped out of the taxicab. No doubt he’d barely notice her departure, as usual.
The typical mad crush of people awaited her just inside the doors of the gallery. Sam’s shows were always well attended, which showed just how connected he was. Not only were there artist types in attendance, but a fair amount of the New York City elite, as well. She even thought she might have spotted the mayor deeper inside.
Feeling suddenly alone amidst the throng of people, Diane unbuttoned her coat and dropped it, along with her purse and other winter essentials, at the coat check stand set up in one corner of the large room.
Thankfully, between the people and the heating system, she felt no chill whatsoever. But racked with sudden uncertainty, she wondered if maybe she shouldn’t have come. Other than casual acquaintances, she wouldn’t know anyone here, and even if Sam weren’t going to be busy, which he undoubtedly was, it wasn’t like they could hang out together the entire time. Not with his brother around.
[EB03] Bad Girls Do Page 12
