Seduction’s Canvas (Crimson Romance)

by Jackson, K. M.

  She felt uneasy, but was used to hiding it. Getting out tonight would be good for her. And though she’d rather not talk about her brief encounter with Mark, she knew that airing it out with Gabby was probably for the best. It wasn’t good to keep things bottled up. Or so she’d heard. She’d long grown up on the motto that sharing was overrated too.

  The hostess handed them their menus and walked away. Gab jumped right back in where she’d left off. “So to be such a brief encounter, was biker boy at least worth it?”

  Sam pretended to be engrossed in her menu as flashes of her early evening tryst with Mr. Thorn ran through her head. It didn’t escape her notice that along with the sensual images came the blowback and shiver of ecstasy, that days later, still had her clenching her thighs together. She also thought of the change in her work. Somehow that damned man had wedged his way under her skin and she could not pry him out. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, her work showed the shift. There was a new vibrancy and life to it that wasn’t there the week before he’d moved across the hall. Not that you’d know he was there. Since their encounter she hadn’t seen or heard a peep out of him. It was like he’d gone from her silent rider to her ghost rider. She let out a sigh and glanced her friend’s way. “Oh yeah, he was definitely worth it. And in no way a boy, but all man.”

  Gabby gave her a long look. “Okay, well I hear that. So why the long face?”

  Sam sighed, then decided to just spill it to her friend. “I just wish I hadn’t been so weak and fallen in like I did.”

  Gabby raised a brow. “What do you mean by ‘fallen in’? I thought you were good with a little taste and that was enough to have your fill. Don’t tell me there’s something more.”

  Sam shrugged. “Oh no, there’s definitely nothing more. I just don’t want any awkwardness with him when we pass each other in the hall. The whole thing could get messy.”

  Gabby’s snort brought Sam up short.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Nothing, my dear.”

  “That was not nothing. That was a definite snort of something.”

  Gabby picked up the menu as if she was now ready to become engrossed in it. Sam snatched it from her. “Gab.”

  “Fine. That was me calling you on your crap. You know it’s not his awkwardness you’re worked up about. It’s the fact that that sexy assed man has you twisted.”

  Sam gave her back the menu and shook her head. “Oh no, whether he has me twisted or not is irrelevant because I’m not letting myself get caught up in any situation that’s going to put me out there like that. I’m in control of me.”

  Gabby stared at her friend, looking her straight in the eye. “Alrighty, then.” She opened the menu. “Now please, let’s order. I sure hope this place has decent food to back up all this expensive flash.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that, ladies. We can back it up here at Brick,” a deep voice rang out.

  Both women raised their gazes. “Peter, how nice to see you. I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.” Sam fought to put some warmth into her voice.

  Peter cocked his head and his lips spread into a Cheshire cat grin. He looked over at Gabby and smiled. “Hey, Gab, is she always this charming?”

  Gabby gave him a smile, but her eyes were already going to the tall, dark, and mesmerizing guy at Peter’s side. “Always. You know how my girl is.”

  “Indeed I do.” He looked back at Sam. “You know me, a Jack of all trades. And I like to protect what’s mine, so I thought I’d pop over to see how business was tonight.” He grinned, taking on a sexy swagger that would send a lesser woman swooning. But then to his left, there was a small cough and Peter turned. “Ladies, I’d like you to meet my friend, Marion. Mar, these are two are the most happening ladies in New York.”

  Marion, looking dapper with his close-cropped hair, slim pants, double breasted jacket, and pinpoint oxford underneath, gave them a small bow. “Ladies, an honor to meet you both,” he said with a soft lilting accent.

  “Very nice,” Sam said. “Seems you have a rare bird here. Manners and all.”

  Marion took that opportunity to blush so deep it came through under his already dark complexion.

  “Samara, please. Pull back those claws. Mar is here to discuss business. I don’t want you scaring him off. At least not until we’ve discussed our club expansion opportunities in his country’s hotels.”

  Marion chose then to speak up. This time his gaze was directed at Gabby. “Don’t worry about it, Peter. I don’t scare off that easy.”

  Peter grinned and gave him a pat on the back. “That’s good to hear.” He turned back to Sam. “Do you mind if we join you ladies?”

  Sam bit back a groan and was prepared to say no. She really wasn’t up to seeing Peter tonight, not with Mark still so heavy on her mind. The “no” was this close to coming out when Gabby gave her a nudge from under the table. She turned to her friend and that look said it all.

  Sam looked up at Peter and pasted on her Leighton smile. “Sure, we’d love to have you join us.”

  • • •

  Mark had been riding for hours out of the city with only a stop to gas up. He circled back toward the city and thirty minutes out found himself pulling up into his mother’s driveway.

  Though it was getting late, the porch light was on. He turned off the ignition and before he could stow his helmet, she was there waving and smiling from the porch in her pink tracksuit and pink fuzzy slippers that he’d given her two Christmases ago, her Yorkie, Mr. Maximus barking at her side.

  “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you until Sunday night for dinner.”

  Mark hugged her as he kissed her warm cheek and ushered her inside. “Can’t a guy come and visit his mom whenever he wants?”

  Delores Thorn laughed at that and gave him a knowing look — one that said she had his number and knew something was amiss. And, as usual, she was right. Mark was not one to just pop up on a random night, and his mother could probably tell something was wrong. They walked into the modest Yonkers house that he’d bought her, and Dee went immediately to the kitchen to pull out the leftovers of the dinner she’d had earlier.

  “Of course,” she said. “I’m so happy to see you. It’s just, who knows, I could have been out on a date or something.”

  “Oh really,” Mark growled.

  Dee laughed, turning on her son with the same dark eyes and assessing stare that he gave so well. “Don’t you dare try that little intimidating growl thing with me because you know it won’t work. Now make yourself useful and pull down a plate. You look like you’re starving. All that city food. Don’t you cook at all?”

  “I cook,” Mark mumbled. “Sometimes. But what are you doing trying to change the subject? How are you going out on dates? What about your age, your heart?”

  Dee waved a hand. “Gee thanks, just what I needed tonight. The guy I was pulling for lost on Jeopardy! and my son comes home to tell me I’m pretty much ready to be put out to pasture.”

  Mark lowered his eyes to the floor and looked at his mother’s slippers again. It was time to get her a new pair. “I’m sorry, Ma.”

  “Of course you are,” she said in that sweet soothing voice of hers that was always like a balm to his heart. “And sweetie, I was just messing with you. Though I’m not dead yet.”

  His eyes shot up. “Ma, stop, don’t even talk like that.”

  Dee reached out and put a gentle hand to his lips. “You have to stop worrying about me so much. I have my meds and I work out.”

  Mark’s eyes shot over to the area on the side of the kitchen counter where the medication that his mother would have to probably take for the rest of her life was lined up. The very expensive medications that Medicare did not fully cover.

  She continued. “I have my meds, and my good frie
nds, and Mr. Maximus here.”

  Mark looked down again, scrunching his face up at his mother’s poor excuse for a guard dog. He was all bark and no bite. But at least he was something. He kept his mother happy and he was company as she took her daily walks. For Mark’s look, Mr. Maximus rewarded him with a small growl.

  “That dog hates me.”

  Dee laughed. “He’s just as jealous of you as you are of him. One day you two will get over it. Now come on and eat. Maybe once you do you’ll tell me what’s really on your mind and got you up here away from your work at this time of night.”

  Mark just gave his mother a look and handed her a plate.

  “That was good, Ma,” he said not fifteen minutes later and walking over to where she was perched, feet tucked under her, looking so much smaller than the larger-than-life mother he’d remembered growing up with. She sat in the corner of the new couch he had gotten her for her birthday last year. It had been a bit of a fight, as most things were — the house, her car, she didn’t like that he spoiled her but it’s what he loved to do.

  Almost losing her those years ago just about killed him. She had worked so hard for him. Cleaning up behind other people without a word of thanks and in the end it was her devotion to others that just about killed her. Her devotion to him and giving him the life that she thought he deserved. In the end, it was finding her on the floor, a final notice overdue bill clutched in her hand that had been the last straw for him. The thing that sent him over the edge and had him giving his life, at least for a few years, to Uncle Sam.

  He’d promised her college, it was what she wanted, but there was no way he would have his mother die paying for it.

  She looked up at him with a smile. “Let me get you some dessert, babe, and you can watch my show with me. Keep me company.”

  Mr. Maximus gave another small growl. Mark growled back, then impulsively grinned at his mother. “Is it peach pie?”

  “It is. It was supposed to be for Sunday, but since you’re here now, I can always make another.”

  “Thanks Ma. You’re the best. Pie is just the thing for a night like tonight.” He looked down at Mr. Maximus, suddenly feeling lighter. “Come on, you little mongrel, let me take you for a walk.” He patted his side and Mr. Maximus gave him a suspicious stare.

  Dee nudged him. “Oh go on, Mr. Maximus. You and Mark make nice. Who knows, you may grow to like each other.”

  Both dog and man turned and gave her a look like that was unlikely. But Mr. Maximus jumped down and followed Mark to the door once he’d grabbed his leash.

  Dee laughed. “I’ll heat that pie.”

  Marked had walked to the corner and back when his phone buzzed. He reached for it, checked the caller ID, then flipped it open.

  “Yeah.”

  “Looks like your girl is over in this club for a night on the town,” Jayson, one of his guards and his go to second, said in clipped tones.

  “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have a girl.”

  “Sorry, just a figure of speech, man. I’m talking about that tall, sexy, rich girl from your building.”

  Mark felt his entire body go rigid. “And you’re telling me because?”

  “I’m just making conversation,” Jay said. “She just walked in the club I’m hanging at with the owner, some other yahoo, and a sweet looking honey that I wouldn’t mind getting to know. When I saw her, I thought of my boy. Wondering why you don’t get down here. Give me an intro.”

  “Nah man, I’m not hanging tonight.” The image of Sam at a club on Moss’s arm was now burned into the forefront of his brain. And just when he was lulled by his mother’s good food too. Damn, there was peach pie. He was this close to telling Jay that he’d head on down there when Mr. Maximus pulled at him. Tugging on the leash, vying for his attention. Seemed he’d had enough of outside and was ready to go home. Home. Mark looked up the block at his mom’s modest house. She loved it so much and though she said it was too much she adored it. It was her sanctuary and her safety net. He thought once again of all his mom had sacrificed and the toll the years had taken on her as the words came back to him again: “She’s not for you.”

  “Listen, I’ll catch you later. I’m in for the night.”

  “Alright, man it’s cool.” He heard the cautious reserve in Jay’s voice, giving him a chance to change his mind, but with a determined click he hung up, satisfied with following behind Mr. Maximus. Heading home.

  • • •

  Hours later, and too many pomegranate martinis at Peter’s club, Rush, Sam and Gabby teetered out of Marion’s hired car in front of her building feeling no pain.

  Sam pushed gently on Peter’s chest as he attempted to move forward to her building’s front door. “Thanks. This has been fabulous, but I have to say my apartment is not company ready and I’m dead tired. So this will have to be goodnight.” Sam tossed a disappointed Gabby a ‘Sorry, hon, but this is the end of the road for these two’ look.

  In true Gabby form, she had Sam’s back and chimed in, turning to Marion. “Yes, thanks. It’s late and we’d better get going.”

  “But I’ve just met you. How will I get in touch?” Marion started.

  Gabby smiled and reached into her purse, pulling out a card. “Here’s my number — call me if you like.”

  Marion took it slowly, Sam noticed, letting his fingers brush over Gabby’s. Hold on, girl, stay strong, Sam thought as Gabby started to walk toward the building, doing her Waiting to Exhale shimmy.

  “But wait,” Marion called after her. “Don’t you want my number?”

  Gabby turned and flashed her best sassy smile. “I’m sure I’ll get it. When you call me.”

  Sam wanted to cheer, but she held her cool. She turned back to Peter who, it seemed, was waiting patiently for her to change her mind and let him come up. “Goodnight, Peter.”

  He gave her a stare that pinned her to him, momentarily stunning her with its intensity. He held onto her hand and then slowly lifted it, turning the palm up to his lips. She narrowed her gaze and he chuckled, releasing her hand. “Ok, Sam. I get it. You have a good night.”

  She eased her hand away and walked into her building on surprisingly unsteady legs, rubbing at her palm. What was that about? Freaking guys.

  No chance to think on Peter, Sam let out an audible curse as she stepped into the lobby and saw Gabby standing by the elevator bank chatting it up with none other than Mr. Freaking-Leg-Shake himself, Mark-Thorn.

  “Good evening to you too, Miss Leighton,” he said, turning her way, damned brow raised and ready to rumble.

  Shit. Maybe she should have let Peter come up. Anything to deflect this.

  “What are you doing out so late, Mr. Thorn?” It was her turn to raise a brow. “Hot date?”

  He smirked. “Now how hot could it be if I’m on the way home now and not still … ” He paused. “Heated.”

  Sam frowned. What the hell did that mean? Did it have something to do with the two of them and the fact that he didn’t linger with her? A burning started low in her belly and worked its way up to her throat. She was about to open her mouth when a thought hit her.

  Wait a minute, he really didn’t tell her whether he’d had a date or not. Not that she cared or had any right, but still. He was just trying to get a rise out of her. She forced herself to relax. Despite the vision of him, glistening, hot, sexy, primal, and above her, she shrugged her shoulders as the elevator door opened. “Well, either way, hot or not. I hope the evening was satisfying for you.”

  He stepped back to let them enter.

  “Not as satisfying as I wish my afternoon was.” His deep voice rumbled low against her ear as she passed. Sam’s breath caught and she stumbled, teetering into Gabby ahead of her.

  “Hey there? Tipsy turvy? You didn’t have that much to drink. Maybe those
shoes are not for you,” Gabby said as she turned around. But then she looked up between her friend and Thorn, her eyes narrowing and she let out a long breath of air. “Or maybe it’s not the shoes at all, hey, Mr. Thorn.”

  Mark turn toward Gabby, giving her that easy smile. “Please, call me Mark.”

  Gabby grinned, looking between Mark and Sam, and suddenly Sam felt the urgent urge to give her friend a much needed kick.

  “So, Mark, Sam here tells me you really can ride,” Gabby said.

  Suddenly something was stuck in her throat and the urge to kick now came combined with a pinch. How slow was this elevator? Sam coughed and Mark laughed while Gabby feigned innocence. “What did I say? Didn’t you give Sam a ride home the other night? That was very old school gallant of you.”

  Mark cleared his throat. “Thanks, I wouldn’t go that far. Let’s just say we both made out in the bargain.”

  Sam felt her ears heat. She looked up toward the elevator number display. Eight, Nine, Ten … how in the hell long would it take.

  “Well, now, isn’t that always the best of situations?” Gabby said coyly, as if she had ever had a coy moment in her life. “When both parties are mutually satisfied?”

  Sam was about to let loose with a kick for real when thankfully the elevator came to a lurching halt and Sam teetered and let out a low whistle that had both Gabby and Mark turning to her.

  She looked over at them through low slitted eyes. “Not the smoothest of rides.”

  “But at least we reached our destination,” Mark said smoothly as he stepped out of the way and let the ladies pass.

  Samara rewarded him with a sharp look.

  As the trio departed, Sam couldn’t help but feel all prickly with Mark at her back and Gabby now being a little too quiet at her side. She hurried her steps and pulled out her keys. “Well, goodnight,” she said over her shoulder as she quickly opened her door and shoved Gabby in before her.