She eyes me narrowly as I take a sip from my glass. “Then what’s the matter? You having second thoughts about breaking up with Brandon?”
“No, it’s not that. Ending things with Brandon is the only smart decision I’ve made in the past several days.”
“Smart and overdue,” she says. “He seems like a nice guy and all, but the two of you didn’t make a lot of sense if you ask me.”
I concede with a small nod. “You’re right about him on both counts. He was totally accepting when I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. And since he didn’t seem surprised or upset, it only confirmed that I was making the right choice for both of us.”
Lita tilts her glass toward mine. “Here’s to making smart choices.”
We both take a drink, but she’s still looking at me expectantly. “What?”
“I’m almost afraid to ask where the idiocy part comes in.” Her ruby-red stained lips purse for an instant. “Oh, shit. Tell me this is not about Dominic-fucking-Baine.”
At that same moment, some of Kathryn’s society friends glide past Lita and me on their way to circulate with other guests. The pack of glamorous older women pause to say hello to me, temporarily stalling the lecture I’m certain is coming from my friend.
Lita smiles and politely shakes hands as I introduce her, but she doesn’t miss a beat once we’re alone again. “Have you hopped back into bed with that asshole? Because then we’re talking about idiot choices.”
“Nick’s not an asshole.” I blow out a resigned sigh. “Well, sometimes he is. But that’s beside the point. And no, I haven’t slept with him.”
“But you want to and that’s almost as bad.” She hands her empty glass to a passing waiter then folds her arms, studying me as if I’ve lost my mind. “You still love him, don’t you?”
I shrug and down the last swallow of my champagne.
“What happened to ‘I’m over him, I’ve moved on, end of story?’”
“I’m not, I haven’t, and . . . maybe it isn’t.”
“Idiot.” Lita rolls her eyes, but she’s also laughing. “And now you just cost me fifty bucks to Matt.”
My mouth drops open. “You two had money riding on whether I’d get back together with Nick?”
She holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, the money was Matt’s idea. I wanted him to clean the studio for a month if I won.”
I snort in spite of myself. “Jerks.”
Lita grins. “Yeah, but what would you do without us?”
We’re still laughing when I feel a strong, warm palm settle against the center of my back. A masculine hand, no doubt about it. Given Nick’s tangled, acrimonious past with Kathryn Tremont, I don’t expect to see him anywhere near this event, but that doesn’t keep my heart from leaping in surprise—in tempered hope—as I turn my head to see who’s behind me.
The tall, broad-shouldered man with the long, wavy brown hair and the slow, sexy grin that’s now trained on me isn’t Nick, but I’m still happy to see him.
“Jared! Hi.”
“Avery.” He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Always a pleasure to see you, darlin’,” he says in his smooth southern drawl. Framed in thick lashes, his molasses-brown eyes drink me in without a trace of shame. “Kathryn mentioned you were coming tonight. Unfortunately, she also mentioned that you were seeing someone. Which of these tuxedoed monkeys is the lucky guy?”
I can’t help but smile at Jared’s laid-back bad-boy charm. Looking at him it would be easy to mistake the muscular, ruggedly handsome man for a blue jeans model or a displaced cowboy out for a good time in the big city, but Jared Rush’s talent far exceeds his panty-melting looks.
A renowned painter whose edgy portraits fetch millions, Jared is also a close friend of Kathryn Tremont’s. In fact, she posed for him years ago when he painted Beauty, the unflinchingly intimate portrait of her on display at Dominion.
“I guess I’m the lucky guy,” Lita blurts. “I mean, not that I’m a guy. And not that Avery and I are dating or anything. We’re only together for tonight. But not together-together. Shit.” She winces, her teeth sinking into her lip as if to stanch the uncontrolled flow of words from pouring out of her mouth. Awkwardly, she clears her throat. “We’re friends.”
Jared chuckles. I stare at Lita wide-eyed and amused. It’s rare to see my tough friend rattled. And while Jared has that effect on most women, I suspect Lita’s awe is more professional in nature.
Still smiling, I make the introductions. “Jared Rush, this is my good friend and fellow artist Lita Frasier. We share studio space in East Harlem.”
He extends his hand to her. “Lita, honored to meet you. Aren’t you the artist commissioned to do the lobby sculpture for the Dektech building over in Brooklyn Heights?”
Her jaw goes slack. “I . . . um, yeah. I am. That is, I was. I, uh, sort of quit today.”