“Just met,” he says, and I can feel the growing heat of his gaze on me while I pretend not to notice. “Avery was telling me how much she likes the painting.”
“Isn’t he brilliant?” Margot enthuses. “You should see his other work.”
I smile at him. “I imagine it’s all incredible.”
“Avery’s an artist too,” Margot announces, much to my chagrin.
“Is that right?”
“Not really,” I murmur. “I dabble a bit. I’m still an amateur, especially compared to you.”
As I speak, Jared’s intense gaze holds me even closer. “If you’re interested, I’ll bring you out to the Hamptons sometime to see my studio. We can talk process, share our techniques. I think you’d enjoy it.”
I have no doubt I would. And I’m quite certain it’s not only art techniques he wants to share. While his attention is flattering, the last thing I need to do is complicate my life any more than I already have. Besides, as gorgeous as Jared Rush is—as much as I’m impressed by his talent and dying to know more about his process—there’s only one man whose been able to tempt me into his bed in more years than I care to admit, and he’s currently a continent away.
Margot tilts her head as she looks between Jared and me. I can see her trying to gauge the situation, but I keep my face schooled to a neutral expression, the mask that’s always ready whenever I need it. When my eyes tell her nothing, she looks at Jared. “Would you like to join us for lunch?”
To my relief, he shakes his head. “Can’t today, unfortunately. I’m due back in Sagaponack to work. In fact, I’m late. Gotta make use of the daylight when I can.”
He leans over and presses a light kiss to Margot’s cheek. Then he pivots and holds out his hand to me. We shake again, and his eyes hold my gaze with a sensual promise that would make any woman melt on the spot. Even I’m not completely immune.
“Great to meet you, Avery. Let me know if you want that studio tour. Margot can put you in touch with me anytime.”
“Okay.” I nod, even though I doubt I’ll be taking him up on the offer. “Nice to meet you, Jared.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.” His charming drawl packs an added punch when he flashes me a broad, dimpled grin. “Hope I see you around again.”
As he steps away from us to leave the gallery, Margot gives me a sly smile. “An invitation to his studio? That’s a first. I think he likes you.”
I slant her a sardonic look. “I’ve got a feeling he likes a lot of women.”
“True,” she admits. “But let’s face it, when a guy looks like that, who can fault him? Add in his creative talent and success—not to mention the fact that he’s a genuinely good man in a city full of sharks—and it’s no wonder he’s got women practically trampling each other for his attention. If I wasn’t happily married, I’d be right there with rest of them. Jared Rush is a bona fide catch.”
“I’m sure he is, but I’m not casting my line to find out.”
“Well, you could certainly do worse,” she gently chides me. “You should seriously consider what he said, Avery. The invitation to visit his studio, if nothing else. He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t mean it. Do you realize how many other artists would kill for a chance to study with him? And with Jared’s connections in the art world, he might also be able to open doors for your work at other galleries too.”
The reminder about my failure at Dominion stings, even though I know it isn’t Margot’s intent to make me feel bad. She’s only trying to help.
“Speaking of potential new connections,” she adds, “I’d been hoping to introduce you to some people who were at the gallery party last week, but when I came looking, you were already gone. You didn’t even come say goodbye.”
I wince inwardly, feeling guilty and awkward about the whole thing now. “I’m sorry. I should’ve let you or Jen know that I wasn’t staying. I kind of . . . left in a hurry.”
She frowns, obviously confused. “Left in a hurry? Why? Did something happen?”
“Um, I guess you could say that.” I’m hedging, but until this moment I wasn’t even sure I wanted to broach the subject with Margot. She may be my friend, but I’m not sure she’s going to appreciate the fact that I went home with one of her customers.
Anyway, I can see it’s too late to dance away from the truth now. Margot’s shrewd, almond-shaped eyes narrow on me.
“What’s this about, Avery? Why did you go?”
“I met someone. At the party.” I gesture to the area where we’re standing now. “I bumped into him—literally—right here in front of this painting. Turns out, we’d met before. Well, not exactly met, but we’d seen each other a couple of nights earlier. Anyway, we started talking about art and . . . well, other things. Then we decided to leave together.”
“Leave together.” Margot’s brows arch high on her forehead. She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, even though we’re the only two people in this section of the gallery. “Are you telling me you went home with this man? As in, slept with him?”
My sheepish look is evidently enough of an answer.
“No wonder you have no interest in Jared!” Her face lights up with curiosity. “Do I know this mystery man? Tell me more about him. Like his name, for starters.”