Priceless

  “No…please don’t.” Her breath was coming fast and she kept shaking her head in denial, the soft ends of her mahogany hair just brushing the tops of her breasts as they rose and fell from the heavy breathing pouring from her.

  I didn’t let up. “How you flew apart when I made you come, the sounds you made in my mouth, my fingers tight inside you…how your tongue felt wrapped around my cock.”

  “Stop!” she hissed, standing up and bringing a hand to her forehead. “I have a migraine and I need to go,” she blurted before leaving the table, gaining her a few looks from the others seated around us.

  “Feel better, Gaby,” I called after her. All for show. “Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

  She didn’t turn around.

  The view of her arse in that tight skirt from behind was still magnificent, and I enjoyed it thoroughly as she walked away.

  I know the signs of passion in a woman’s body. The flushed skin. The faltering speech. The breathing that begins in deep pulls and makes her tits heave deliciously. The guarded posture of trying to remain aloof, but knowing she’s failing miserably.

  My lovely obsession—the delicious Miss Gabrielle Hargreave—had every one of those signs. And I’d wager, probably an added ache up in between her thighs.

  I can fix that ache for you, Gabrielle.

  I’d gotten the first thing right with her tonight.

  Finally.

  A lethal crack in that hard shell she owned.

  And for the first time in a very long while, I could say that I felt really goddamn…happy for once.

  NINE

  BRYNNE had been one hundred percent correct, not that I ever doubted her. She was brilliant in her field. The larger-than-life portrait hanging in the grand stairwell at Hallborough House was a Mallerton all right. A stunning, supremely executed example from his middle period of works. Sir Jeremy Greymont and Lady Georgina Greymont with their children. God. I took it all in and enjoyed every moment of the experience.

  He stood behind her as she sat in an elegantly carved chair wearing a pale pink gown and pearls. The children, a boy and baby girl, were done as children were usually presented for the times—wide-eyed and stoic. This was early Victorian judging from the clothing. I was well aware of Mallerton’s embracing of the camera obscura and figured he must have used it to paint the children and the many pets which often appeared in his works. Babies, dogs, and horses didn’t stay still for long enough otherwise.

  I’d have to talk to Hannah and Freddy Greymont about some archival photographs and an official cataloguing of this into the Mallerton database. I could ask Ben to take some quick prelims for me before he left. I wondered if there were any more Mallerton paintings in this house—

  “You know, I have a houseful of similar portraits just waiting for you to look at them like you’re studying that one right now.”

  I jumped at the sound of his voice right behind me.

  “Oh, I know you do,” I said without turning around. “I saw there were tons on the walls as I was making my escape, but I didn’t have time to spare them much more than a fleeting glance.”

  What in the hell was he trying to do to me? Lurking around and stalking my every move, startling the bejesus out of me. I thought I’d ditched him at dinner. I really needed to stay out of his sights for the rest of the weekend as much as humanely possible. Tomorrow at the wedding was unavoidable, of course, but there would be two hundred other people around us and I’d be able to figure out some way to avoid him.

  The problem with Ivan Everley was he continued to pursue me relentlessly and made that message very clear. I’m not an idiot. The man had said he wanted to fuck me when I’d been at his beloved Donadea, and it seemed nothing had changed in regards to that matter.

  Had things changed for me?

  You can’t be with him. You can’t go down that road again. Ever.

  Despite his apologies and the crazy circumstances we’d both been thrown into, I just couldn’t go there with him. And I wasn’t sharing why I couldn’t, either. It was better this way, and he didn’t need to know my reasons. I was in charge of my body and my choices.

  The hot breath of him tickled the back of my neck and I knew I was doomed when my senses reacted. That was the thing with him. He infuriated me, but my traitorous body didn’t seem to be getting the memos. I couldn’t help the shiver that shimmied down my spine any more than I could help how I’d been made.

  I squeezed my eyes tight in an effort to ward off the arousal. To ward him off.

  “It drives you crazy that you didn’t get a very good look at my paintings, doesn’t it, Gabrielle?”

  I just stood frozen with my back to him until I felt his hands spin me around.

  His eyes had a predatory gleam in them as they roved over me and he leaned in closer. I sucked in a breath.

  He inhaled and gave me an eyebrow twist as if to say, “I’m waiting for an answer.”

  “You drive me crazier than the loss of your paintings ever will,” I whispered, backing up a step, creating some needed distance between his hard body and my quivering one. I seriously couldn’t handle him crowding me.

  I had to get away from him before I lost my resolve—

  His hand came up to under my chin and he held me to him, gentle yet firm.

  “Is it bad that driving you crazy makes me feel so fucking good?” he asked before hitting me with that devastating smile which put him into mythical god territory, and me into flight mode.

  I pulled myself away and ran up the stairs. And I didn’t stop running until I’d reached my bedroom and could lock myself inside.

  I panted behind the door, holding myself still above the pounding of my heart at the affect he had on me. I couldn’t allow myself the luxury of acting upon my obvious attraction to him. Why did he continue to pursue me? Why me, in the first place? I had to keep away from him. I just had to.

  It’s so much safer that way.

  MR. and Mrs. Blackstone were a romantic vision at their wedding. Brynne was always beautiful, and Ethan, well…he was too, but in a very male and rugged way. Right now, he looked like he’d had enough of parties and guests and anything to do with being anywhere with Brynne that wasn’t private, to last him a lifetime.

  I was happy for them, but I was also relieved this weekend was nearly over and I could get back to my life…and the harsh reality of a job and school. And away from Ivan Everley.

  Seriously, he was dangerous.

  “Simon is asking for the best man and maid-of-honor. That’s you, darling,” Elaina called out as she walked up with her fiancé Neil, looking happy in love with her man. They were next on the marriage circuit. Elaina had told me last night that Ivan and I would be paired up again for their wedding in six week’s time. I just couldn’t shake him it seemed. “Simon’s making us do some crazy poses too,” she added with a laugh.

  “Awesome,” I said to Elaina, as I made my way over to the insanely non-traditional photographer Ethan had hired—one Simon Carstairs—in his shiny custom suit of retina blinding leaf-green.

  “There she is,” Ivan said, holding his hand out with that deadly serious expression he liked to use on me.

  What choice did I have? Be a massive bitch at my best friend’s wedding, or take his hand and let him lead me around like a poodle on a leash?

  His hands did a good wandering job on me, too, as Simon shouted positions for us to pose in for these ridiculous pictures. “I am not a model for Vogue,” I muttered under my breath.

  “But you could be. In fact, I’d even go one further and say you’re far more beautiful than most of the models that grace the pages of that magazine,” he whispered in my ear.

  “You need to stop this…obsession…you have with me, Ivan,” I hissed back.

  “Good word choice. You are definitely an obsession.”

  “Tilt her backward Fred and Ginger style,” Simon commanded.

  Before I could respond Ivan had me swept beneath him, his strong
arms the only thing between my ass and the garden cobblestones. He brought his forehead within an inch of mine and held me there, suspended and at his mercy.

  “How’s this?” He answered the photographer but he spoke the words right against my lips.

  “Gorgeous, my darlings. Now bend your leg at the knee and point your toe like a dancer. You have magnificent legs, Gaby, and I need this shot. Ivan, stretch your back leg out behind you and keep it stiff.”

  “Oh it’s definitely stiff,” Ivan said softly while looking devilishly into my eyes.

  Simon giggled and snapped what felt like millions of shots. “This is brilliantly luscious, you two.” He kept directing us into positions that required my body to be plastered up against Ivan’s tantalizing one. God, he smelled so good to me, something that hadn’t changed from that first night at the National Gallery. His hair fell forward when he dipped me this way and that, brushing along his jaw and sometimes over mine. I couldn’t take much more of this. It was too hard for me.

  And I was starting to hate Simon-the-photographer with a passion.

  “He’s so right, you know.”

  “About?”

  “Your magnificent legs.” He brought his eyes down and over my bent knee and pointed toe, the effect of which had raised the wispy skirt of my dress so high he was probably seeing way more than he should.

  Fuck my life.

  I struggled to pull my skirt down but gravity has the ultimate say in such matters. Ivan held me how he wanted to anyway, and I sensed he wouldn’t release me until he was good and ready.

  “Please…Ivan, can we stop this?” I begged on a whisper. “I don’t want to—I can’t—please.”

  His gaze flickered for a moment as he held me against him, and stared down at me, weighing my request possibly?

  “That’s it. We’ve had enough,” he told Simon firmly, before raising me up back to standing, his hands still holding me close, one at my lower back and the other gripping one of mine.

  My dress floated back down to the floor.

  “If you have a drink with me I’ll stop.”

  “I shouldn’t.” I’d had several drinks tonight already but I didn’t tell him that.

  “But you will. I’m calling a truce with you and it’s what I want. It’s time for us to make friends, Gabrielle.”

  “Fine.” He just didn’t give up and I was tired of fighting him at every turn.

  When I agreed to the drink he smiled at me again, this time just as devastating to my resolve as all of the other times.

  I was in very deep trouble with this man.

  And he knew it as well as I did.

  “YOU liked this last night so I hope another blueberry mojito is okay.” I held out the glass to her as I came up to where she was waiting for me opposite the dance floor. The fact she was waiting for me at all and not trying to ditch me was a nice place to start, I thought wryly.

  She accepted the drink and took a sip. “Oh, that’s strong, but it’s good. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, of course.” I tilted my head, wanting to show her I did possess some manners even if she’d never really witnessed them from me thus far. I could tell she was a complicated woman, but it was the fact she was a total mystery, that captivated me more. I needed to peel away her layers and discover her secrets one by one until there weren’t any more to know. She drove me to wanting to know everything about her.

  Her eyes flicked down and away from me.

  My eyes on her stayed put.

  I finally had her semi-alone, and since she wasn’t running for the moment, I needed to get my fill of looking. The warm summer breeze fluttered her gauzy lavender dress and pressed it against the definition of her legs and breasts. Intoxicatingly female. She was also a woman very finely made.

  Her hair moved, too. I wished she would look at me so I could see what was in her eyes. Eyes were sometimes all you needed to see to know how a person felt about you.

  I was still trying very much to understand her motives. Why she had been so connected at the gala, and why she kept running from me now. I sensed there was far more than my error in mistaking her for an escort.

  I hadn’t been very successful so far but there was one thing I was dead certain about. Gabrielle Hargreave was really struggling with our attraction. It was real, and right now I could feel the heat coming off her as strong as the first time we’d met in that back gallery hallway two months ago.

  “This whole thing is priceless you know, you being Brynne’s friend I was supposed to meet and ask to have a look at my paintings.”

  She finally let me see her eyes, but the smile she gave didn’t reach them.

  “Yeah, pretty much in agreement with you there,” she said softly.

  “Why does it make you sad, Gabrielle, because I’m not. I wanted to see you again after the gala. I tried to find you.”

  “I’m not sad,” she said softly.

  “You are. I see can see it in your eyes. But you don’t have to be.” I brushed a strand of hair back and tucked it behind her ear.

  She froze when I touched her, a current of energy snapping between us.

  She held my eyes this time. “It’s mostly that I’m so ashamed of my behavior with you at the gala. That’s the honest truth, Ivan. If that night had never happened then I imagine our first meeting would have gone down much differently.”

  She felt shame for her reaction to me in that storage closet? I didn’t like that idea because shame had nothing to do with it. She’d done nothing shameful by being with me. Which left me with one conclusion as to why she was ashamed. Somebody had hurt her badly in the past and taught her to feel that way. She was far more fragile than I’d ever imagined.

  I didn’t like that idea, either.

  “Let’s walk.” I held out my arm. “The lake is pretty at night with the moon and stars shining.”

  She eyed me and thought about it, standing there mouthwateringly gorgeous with her dress moving softly in the night breeze, holding her drink with both hands.

  “It’s okay; I’m completely calm and mellow right now. At your suggestion, I’ve been reading up on my notes from Being a Human 101.”

  She laughed, transferring her glass to one hand and taking my arm with the other. “I hope it helps.”

  “It probably won’t, but I’m sure you’ll tell me when I need to brush up on the main points.”

  “It is pretty out here. You were so right,” she said, looking up at the full moon making the night quite bright for the lateness of the hour.

  “In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous,” I quoted.

  “Aristotle, right?” she asked, still looking up at the sky.

  “Correct.” I brought my hand up to the back of her neck to steady her as we walked the footpath toward the lake.

  “I had to study the classics at university much to my dismay.”

  “And you hated it?”

  “It just didn’t interest me at the time, but there was value in it I suppose. Like this lake at night with the moon and stars shining overhead.”

  She looked out at the view and studied it for a moment. Her beautiful face and body framed like a portrait against the night. My hand stayed put on the back of her neck, my thumb rubbing tiny circles just behind her ear.

  “It is something of the marvelous, Ivan,” she whispered up at the sky.

  “I know.”

  She didn’t even realize I was referring to her…and not the view of the lake, or the celestial night sky.

  Another moment later she leaned back against my hand, and tilted her head toward me. She looked right at my lips.

  I’d never look a gift-horse in the mouth, not in a situation like this one, and with Gabrielle’s beautiful face turned toward mine, with an expression of desire reflected in her eyes, it was enough of a signal for me and I took it. I took her mouth.

  My hand at her neck tugged and pulled her to my lips.

  I heard the crash of her drink glass hitting t
he deck, and felt her fingers weave their way into my hair. I didn’t stop. And I don’t think anything could have made me stop.

  I was never going to stop kissing her.

  I wanted her too badly, and my head was reeling at the possibilities.

  Was she the woman I believed didn’t exist? She was here in front of me, in my arms, my tongue in her mouth. She felt real even if my head was totally fucked up with the thoughts and ideas spinning around inside it.

  She tasted like berries and rum and mint, and lush, soft female. Gabrielle Hargreave had transformed from the stiff beauty who’d just told me a few minutes ago she was ashamed of what she’d done before, into the gentle creature who now let me lead her, soft and submissive, exactly where I wanted to take her.

  My bed. Her underneath me.

  But there was no privacy here with so many guests everywhere poking their noses into what everyone else was doing. No, this place wouldn’t work for what I wanted to do with her.

  The taste of her tongue tangling with mine hit me hard in the balls and made the decision for me. The idea came all in a perfect epiphany as I heard the soft laps of Lake Leticia slapping against Nelly’s floats.

  I knew exactly where we were going.

  TEN

  “IVAN, are you sure about this?” I asked as he buckled my life vest and then did the same with the seat straps.

  “Oh I’m very sure about taking you for a ride in my plane.” He leaned close and kissed me expertly, leaving me breathless again. He pulled on the straps to check them and said, “Safety first, Miss Hargreave, but you’re going to love this, trust me.”

  I still wasn’t completely sure what had just happened with him. One minute he was reminding me how well he could use his lips on me, and the next he was pulling me toward his plane and asking if he could take me up for a ride.

  He said, “Trust me.”

  Could I trust Ivan Everley? Should I trust him?

  He’d looked so serious when he asked the question, holding my face in his hands and waiting for my answer. I think I would have devastated him if I’d told him no. I thought about it. I should have told him no. I think the four, or was it five, berry mojitos might have had something to do with my acquiescence, but he looked so happy when I agreed to go.