She’d circuited the vast interior once already before she stopped and actually looked at the walls of the gallery. There was some good stuff. Having checked off a few of her ‘must snaps’, she went to find the artists. Three were present. She talked with them, took photos of them beside their work.
The fourth artist was missing but she went to his wall—drawn to a wide landscape depicting the milky blue of the southern lakes and the mountains rising high behind. In the foreground a lone hawk gazed back at her. It was just the thing Jared would love too—he would see the predator; she saw its vulnerability. She forgot her job and simply stood in front of it for a long time.
‘That one’s already sold.’
She recognised the gallery owner’s voice right behind her.
‘The first to go tonight,’ the woman continued. ‘Let me introduce you to the buyer, he’s—’
‘We’ve met.’
Amanda’s eyes closed for a heartbeat—the beat her heart had just missed at the sound of that voice. Her whole body flushed—hotter and then hotter still until it felt as if her skin were about to blister. It took another few beats before she was able to turn and look.
He was in a tux. She’d never seen him in a tux. And, being the lord of night, he was smouldering, dangerous and compelling.
‘Right.’ The gallery manager filled the century-long void. ‘I’ll leave you to chat, then.’
Amanda was fixed in place by those beautiful dark eyes. She gripped her pen harder, trying to regain some sense of reality—but all she could do was stare. There were a myriad emotions in his expression and she desperately wanted to understand each and every one. But it was hopeless.
‘It’s a beautiful painting.’ She kind of got her larynx to work.
‘I’m glad you think so.’ He didn’t look it. ‘You want an interview with me, Amanda?’
‘You don’t do publicity.’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made an exception for you.’ His eyes raked over her. ‘You’ve lost weight.’
‘So have you.’ His jaw was more defined than ever and her lips tingled—remembering the deliciously rough sensation of pressing against his skin.
‘I’ve been busy.’ She was staring so much her eyes were watering. That was why they were brimming, right? Because she hadn’t blinked.
‘So have I.’
He stepped closer and despite her heat she shivered. Fever—he was like some tropical disease that she hadn’t a hope of beating, lost once more into the vortex of feeling she had for him: the burning black hole of love.
His head was on an angle, he was watching her so closely, reading every single subtle sign—the response that she just couldn’t stop as he touched her, the lightest stroke of his finger across her nose, turning it so the back of his finger brushed down her cheek. She shivered more violently.
‘Don’t, Jared,’ she whispered. Don’t make me want you even more. Not again.
‘Have you missed me?’ His voice was so low and yet she heard it so clearly. Words that rubbed raw the deep hurt within.
His eyes penetrated, darkly going below her flimsy layer of protection—did he see everything?
With every breath she’d missed him. What would he do if she answered with that honesty? Yet she could not go back to how they were—couldn’t not have all of him.
But he’d stepped closer and her body was begging for him to come closer still. Her heart hammered unevenly, madly, and her breathing was short and quick as she tried to get enough oxygen in—enough to be able to think, to protect. She had to protect herself. Her mind raced; she had to stop this.
‘I don’t want to be your mistress.’ She blurted the words out. ‘I understand if you don’t want to keep paying for Colin’s home and I’d appreciate it if you could let me know as soon as poss…as…poss…’
She stammered and stopped. Her eyes were so wide they burned as she watched his face go white, the angle of his jaw sharpening, and a pale ring appear around his lips.
He breathed in, lips parting only a fraction. As he spoke they barely moved more. ‘Get out. Go.’
Fear flooded her. The look in his eye had been pure rage. Knowing he meant it, she ran, lightly stepping out of the side entrance to the gallery and cutting across the car park. She’d gone five paces when she heard his footsteps on the concrete behind her—fast and furious. With strides double the length of hers it was only a moment before he was right behind her.
‘Do you really think I’d do that?’ He grabbed her arm and pulled her round. ‘What the hell kind of person do you think I am? How could you think I’d do that to you?’