Seduction’s Canvas (Crimson Romance)

by Jackson, K. M.

  The tension in the air was thick and palpable.

  Sam licked her lips then knocked at her head breaking the spell. “Um, a little help please, Mr. Thorn.”

  Thorn nodded. This time the smile was dropped. He was now an emotionless mask and just big hands and long fingers coming her way as he helped her with the strap at her chin.

  Samara looked down, her stomach doing a flip as she felt the vulnerable exposure of the helmet being removed. On instinct she smoothed her hair down. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. You think you can walk?”

  “Of course I can.”

  It seemed her pithy answer brought his emotion back because a little smirk quirked the corner of his mouth. “Okay, Miss Independent, let’s go.”

  Sam took a few steps, fighting to stay upright, and she was happy to feel his solid hand come to the small of her back and steady her. They made it past the attendant to the back basement freight elevator.

  Feeling more herself, Sam pulled away from Mark, not fully at ease with him taking up all the space. But it didn’t escape her notice that he seemed pretty comfortable and at ease, pressing their floor and leaning back on the railing. It was as if they were an easygoing couple on their way home after an evening out. The thought had her stomach fluttering and thoughts of swirling butterflies fighting for space filling her mind. She grimaced.

  Mark looked up from his boots to meet Sam’s eyes. “Calm down, it was just a ride. No need to get yourself all in a twist, Miss Leighton.”

  With that, her chin hitched up on its own accord. “Who said I was in a twist? I’m perfectly fine.”

  For that she got a smooth, but no less infuriating nod. What the hell did that mean? But before she could ask, the elevator stopped, coming to a lurching halt and sending her swaying, her body teetering toward Mark’s. All too quickly his arms were out and he was solidly steadying her on both sides. But not before she was close, too close, his face to hers, their mouths mere centimeters apart, if only she would just … fall in.

  Again.

  She glanced up. His dark eyes melted her, that warm liquid feeling slowly easing through her body. She licked suddenly dry lips. What he was putting out with those dark eyes was more than she could take. They were all fierceness and fire mixed in with a softness, a vulnerability, and a longing for something more, something she knew she’d never be able to deliver. It pierced at her. In him, she saw herself reflected back. Slowly she closed her lids and as her body stiffened she forced herself into an upright position, at the same time he tenderly eased her back to standing. On instinct, she clutched her arms around herself.

  Sam blinked and looked around, breaking the short spell. “Shit. What now? Are we stuck?”

  Mark turned to the control panel and gave a low cough. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Give it a minute.”

  Samara watched Mark press a few buttons as she went to her bag and pulled out her cell. “Seriously? All the money I pay for service and no signal in a stupid elevator.”

  Mark turned from the elevator phone and quirked a sharp brow. She gave him her own quirk back. He mumbled a few words then hung up. “Don’t worry, this should be short. According to Carlos, this elevator’s been acting up a lot lately. A repairman is on the way.”

  Her eyes went heavenward. “They need to hurry it up. I just want to get out of these shoes and in my own bed.”

  Well, that got the sexy smirk she was used to. “Funny, you didn’t seem all that tired when you were tearing it up on the dance floor in those shoes or when you were going after Nine.”

  “Nine?”

  “That guy at the club.”

  She stared at him a minute, not thinking it was all that smart to engage in this line of conversation, but how could she resist? “Okay, I’ll bite. Why Nine?”

  Mark leaned back and gave her an up and down, lingering a while on her black leather ankle boots then slowly making his way back up her legs, his dark sooty lashes fanning open, breezing across her chest and finally hitting her sharply between her eyes. She would not reel back.

  “It was his real shoe size, though he was faking it at the club with an eleven.”

  She couldn’t help bursting out laughing. “That is funny as all hell. Men do that? How is it you think he was padding?”

  Mark shrugged. “He was slipping a little so I knew. I just know these things.”

  “So what are you, some kind of secret agent or something or do you just have a men’s foot fetish?” She raised a brow.

  “No, nothing like that. I’m just … ” And there was that look. Sam swallowed and instinctively crossed her legs. “Observant.”

  Samara cocked her head to the side, sizing him up. She could find out exactly what he did from her mother if she really wanted to, but that would be taking liberties and just like something her father would do. Besides, she kind of liked this whole man of mystery thing he had going on at the moment. Sure, he looked tough, but to make the rent here he was probably some closet fight club slash investment banker slash secret millionaire slash trust fund baby just playing at being a tough guy. A background check could really be a disappointment. Guys like the one that actually sent her stomach fluttering were only in her dreams. And the better to leave them there.

  “So, Mr. Observant, let’s put that to the test. Prove it.”

  His dark eyes went to the latticed ceiling for a moment as if to say, “Is this woman really testing my mad skills?” and then landed securely back on her. She leaned back against the freight elevator’s padded walls and gave him a smug nod.

  He let out an impatient sigh. “Okay, Miss Leighton, are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Did I stutter, Mr. Thorn, or are you not up for the challenge?”

  He grinned, letting out a puff of air. Then he licked those full lips, momentarily biting the bottom one and then letting it go.

  Sam sucked in a short breath. “You don’t know anything.”

  Mark looked up at her sharply. Did she insult him? Because that wasn’t her intent. She was just teasing a bit. Sam was about to apologize when he started to speak.

  “You’re five foot nine, about a hundred and th — ” It was now her turn to give the sharp look and he stopped mid word with an apologetic smile before he continued. “Fine. I’ll move on. Your shoe size is a ten, but an eleven would make you much happier, so, yes, those shoes are probably killing you right now.”

  She twisted her lips. “Okay, so you’re observant. So what — ”

  “You have chocolate brown eyes that change colors when the light hits, showing hints of gold around the irises. Your hair is the most fascinating — a mahogany with three hints of brown that go to red in the sun.” She swallowed. “You straddle the line between two worlds, more like three, going from the world of Samara Leighton, daughter of real estate mogul and self proclaimed king of New York, to the woman I saw tonight, the party girl — short skirt, high heeled boots, barroom fights.” He stopped and just stared at her.

  “And … ”

  “And?”

  “You said there were three worlds that I was straddling, So, Mr. Thorn, what about the third world? The third me that you say you know so well?” Her arms tightened around herself and she blinked rapidly.

  His eyes lowered. “I’ve said enough. It’s late.”

  She shook her head. “No, you don’t get to stop now. Obviously, you think you have me all sized up after one meeting and one night. You’re just like everyone else. So go on, tell me the rest. What about the other me?” Her voice was rising against her own sense of control.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop.” She threw up a hand. “No need to be sorry now. Don’t wimp out, just keep going.”

  With that, his control seemed to snap and he bounded forward, pushing off the side wall and coming to stan
d in front of her. A solid wall of uncompromising muscle. But her eyes lifted and held. Mark lifted his hand slowly, and still Sam refused to flinch and instead just tilted her chin up and steeled her resolve as her lips tightened and his nostrils flared in primal response.

  “The third one,” he ground out as his thumb stroked, surprisingly soft along her jaw line. Fuck. She would not puddle up right here in this elevator. Sam glared as he continued. “Is the one I see when you don’t think anyone is looking. The one who goes to the park at dawn to catch the early morning light. Eyes all soft, brush or pencil in her hand. Taking in all the things that most others don’t see. The one with the paint splattered sneakers and a mixture of unrecognizable colors underneath her expensive nail polish. It’s the one who would rather be in front of a canvas over the opening of the latest club or walking the red carpet. I think that’s the you that you don’t want anyone to see. But I see her. I’ve seen her.”

  Samara shuddered out a breath. Who was this man? She tried to take a step back, but hit the wall she was already on.

  She hardened her stance. “I … you … ” She let out a frustrated breath. “You are full of it. Anyone can figure those things about me by just hitting Google.”

  “Anybody?” he questioned and answered all at the same time.

  Oh hell, she was screwed. This was fun for a night, but it was time to steer clear of her dark rider.

  “Yes, anybody. Now, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression back in the alley with that kiss, but like you said maybe there are three of me and you hit up against the wild child tonight. The real me was the woman you met earlier and tonight was a mistake. We’re neighbors, and I do like my space so I think it’s best if you kept to yours.”

  She saw something flash in his eyes as he took in her words. “So space, huh? What are you, some sort of turn on, turn off, split personality? I have to admit I’m kind of confused.”

  She let out a frustrated growl. “What is there to be confused about? I think I made myself perfectly clear.”

  “Well, Miss Leighton, I’m not so sure. Not after the way we responded to each other in the alley. I think I’d better go in again just to be sure you really are who you say you are and not one of the others.”

  And with that his lips were on hers again, soft and hard and all controlling of the situation. And then, just like that, her arms were around his neck and damn it if she wasn’t freaking puddling up right there in the freight elevator. Turning from steel to Jell-O in his muscular arms.

  Hells blasted bells.

  Then, like a gift from above, something rattled, then lurched, sending them both swaying. It could have been the elevator, Sam thought, as it started to move again or it could have been her will as it crumbled to the floor.

  Chapter 6

  “Oh, Miss L, I’m so sorry!”

  Samara blinked, eyes fluttering as if coming out of a dream as the elevator doors opened to the sound of the attendant’s anxious voice. When did they even stop? And what was she doing kissing Mark Thorn again? When her senses returned, she noticed that Mark had somehow smoothly pulled back. He’d uncoiled himself from her and was now coolly turned to the attendant.

  Time to get your crap together, Sam. You’re messing up and messing up big time. She swallowed and cleared her throat. Told herself her lips weren’t still tingling and her nipples weren’t hardened to the point of near pain. She closed her eyes a moment then opened them again, facing forward, her back straight, her ice princess persona firmly in place. “What the hell is up with this elevator?” She paused and softened her tone at the look of fear on the attendant’s face. “I’m sorry, was it Carlos?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry too. This old elevator has been giving us some trouble lately.” He coughed. “Um, management knows about the problem. I’m sure it will be rectified. But you should be able to go up with no problem now. I’ll have Rick go up with you.” He gestured to a slim guy with sleepy, heavy lidded eyes and a way past five o’clock shadow. He had his tool belt slung over his shoulder and gave her a half nod and a snort that said, yeah, he would go up with her, but he really didn’t give a shit that she was the owner’s daughter, he was pissed about being woken up in the middle of the night.

  “We should be fine going up alone,” Mark rumbled next to her.

  She took a firm stance. “No. I’ve had enough for one night. I’d rather just get to my apartment and pack it in.” She gave the scuffed up elevator guy a nod. “If you don’t mind coming with us.”

  Rick shrugged and entered the elevator, extra close to Sam’s personal space. “I’m here already. No skin off my teeth,” he snorted out.

  Sam bit the inside of her bottom lip, fighting the urge to move back when Mark smoothly took her by the elbow and shifted her, placing his body between hers and elevator guy’s. They stood there for a moment and then Rick turned to them impatiently. “Floor?”

  She startled. “Oh, twelve. Sorry.”

  He turned back to the control panel, turning a master key then pressing their floor with a shake of his head. They whizzed up in silence until the elevator lurched to a jerky stop on their floor, the doors opening. “Thanks,” Mark said, turning in Rick’s direction.

  “No problem. I’ll have my guy out in the morning and on this. Hopefully it will be fixed for good.”

  Mark nodded and stepped back for Sam to exit. She gathered her will and exited the elevator as steadily as she could. This had been a long and wild night. One she hadn’t planned for, and if she’d learned anything from the past it was those unplanned for events that were the most dangerous.

  Once they were outside their respective doors, Sam went for her keys and fumbled a bit when her cell rang at the same time. The cell won out and her keys fell to the floor with a loud jangle.

  Mark bent to pick them up and she looked down at him, so big and solid even bent at the knee, his close shaved head a hair’s breadth from her. He looked up at her with those damned dark eyes. All he had to do was —

  “Hello? Hello? Are you there?”

  She’d forgotten she had pressed the answer button on her phone. Sam looked down at him and shook her head.

  “Yeah, girl, I’m here,” Sam said placing the phone to her ear.

  Mark lifted his hand, handing her the keys.

  “Sorry, I just got a little distracted.”

  She didn’t like the look that shadowed Mark’s features with her comment to Gabby, but she had to cut him off. Taking that look was better than the other way around. Sam turned to open her door and talk to Gabby, leaving the enigmatic Mr. Thorn on his knees and staring at the wrong, or maybe it was the right, side of her apartment door.

  • • •

  Mark let his door close with a low click, momentarily proud of his reserve at not slamming it and taking it off the hinges as he stepped into his apartment. But then his mind did a quick jump over his actions of the night and he couldn’t help slamming his fist into his open palm. What an idiot he was coming on so strong. What kind of way was that with a woman like Samara Leighton? It was clear from her kiss at the club that she was the one used to calling the shots. He sucked in a breath and licked at his bottom lip. It was as if he could still taste her champagne infused sweetness on his tongue. He bit back a groan. Damn, she was delicious and her kiss in the alley sent him reeling. Him? Reeling? When in the hell did he ever reel? But since reel he did, how could he help but go in for another taste?

  This time Mark did groan. Damn, that right there was the problem. Now that he had the taste, he knew he couldn’t stop. Knew he didn’t want to. At this point, it would take more than his non-existent Samara Leighton shields to save him. And hell, the way she leaned into him, her breath quickening, cheeks flush, nipples hard against his chest, he wasn’t so sure she wanted to stop either, despite her pretty little speeches about space and all that bullshit.


  Space? Mark snorted to himself, his spine going rod straight and his frown deepening as he remembered the way her demeanor changed when the elevator door opened. As soon as there was an audience she couldn’t get far enough away from him, and she was right back to the cool Leighton heir that the public knew and loved. No hint of the woman that was all heat in his arms a moment before. Not an inkling that he was anything more than just another passenger, lucky to be in her presence.

  Leaning against his couch, Mark fingered the scar on his brow. He must have looked a damned fool down there on his knees before her. She was probably laughing about it on the phone with her girlfriend right now. What a joke he was. He shook his head and shrugged, but what the hell, she was Samara Leighton. Men at her feet was probably nothing new to her and the thought of that view had sweat beading between his shoulders and just when he didn’t think he could get any harder, bam, he was all iron man.

  Mark reached down and pulled off his tee then headed for his fridge to grab a beer. Popping it open, he took a few quick gulps, letting his mind wander back to those impossibly long brown legs and how if he’d only reached out he’d be filling his hands with those delicious looking thighs. Yeah, there were worse positions to be in. He frowned, his chest tightening, but really were there? This was dangerous and Mark knew it. He was setting himself up for certain heartbreak doing foolish things like fighting for Samara Leighton and kissing her in darkened alleys.

  Walking over to his work table he flipped on the overhead task light. Normally, he worked on small furniture pieces and industrial objects, but as of lately he’d been stuck on one subject. With care he lifted the unfinished project. It was still only partially done, but even in this state you could make out the sleek lines of the woman’s form in the soft rosewood. Mark let his fingers gently graze over the still roughened wood, starting with the slope of her head, its long flowing hair down her back. The regal curve of her long neck; in Mark’s mind he could still see the pulse there as Samara looked at him expectantly, willing him to come forward. The slope of her glorious back as it curved to her pert behind and flaring hips. Mark’s breath caught as he remembered how they rocked back and forth on the dance floor sending his heart thudding in time with them. Then down to the sleek, going on forever legs. The ones that had him following her anywhere and everywhere. Like a nomad trying to find a place to call home.