Read Online Every Time I Love You by Heather Graham - Free Book Online
Authors: Heather Graham
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to you soon.”
“I want details,” Tina warned her.
“There's not going to be anything to give details about, I promise you!” She hung up the phone. She felt breathless. Her heart was pounding too quickly, and shivers of anticipation were racing along her spine again. She hurried out of the office and back to the main salon.
Brent McCauley was at one of the little round hors d'oeuvres tables—pouring out two glasses of champagne. He arched a brow at Gayle. She was still breathless. She noted the champagne; she saw Riva, talking with Chad and a bearded art buyer in front of the painting of the lovers.
“Well, Ms. Norman, how am I doing? Should I still be cleaning sewers? I've done my very best to be on good behavior.”
She ignored his question. She looked straight into the black depths of his eyes.
“Do you still want me to pose for you?”
He was motionless for a moment, as if he were analyzing her question. His brow arched higher and his gaze raked over her curiously. “You've had a change of heart? Last night, I couldn't even bribe you. You've suddenly decided to bare it all?”
“Do you want me to pose or not?”
Looking amused and skeptical, he hesitated just a second longer.
“Yes, I do.”
“All right.”
“That simple?”
Why was he making it so painful now? “Yes.”
He extended a hand to her. She took it and felt the warmth spread into her chilled fingers. “It's a deal then, Ms. Norman.”
She wet her lips. “When?”
“No time better than the present.”
“What?”
“Tonight. I'd like to start tonight.”
Gayle heard the enthusiasm in his voice. He told her again how he intended to pose her, and she knew that he meant it—there was no time like the present. He could have started right then and there in the gallery. He said something about color and lights, angle and slope, and she felt shivers again. What had she promised?
“Brent?”
Riva had come to the table.
“Oh, excuse me,” Brent apologized. “Champagne, Riva. I am sorry. I got sidetracked. I didn't mean to take so long.” He handed Riva a glass of champagne and she smiled as she accepted it. She complimented Gayle on the arrangements; Gayle thanked her.
The three of them talked a moment longer. Riva watched Gayle and she watched Brent McCauley. Then she excused herself and left them.
“Did you...make previous plans?” Gayle asked him.
He shook his head.
“Oh, I thought—”
“She's a nice woman.”
“Very,” Gayle agreed. Exotic, beautiful , Gayle added in silence to herself.
Brent stepped a little closer to her, picking up a cracker, piling black caviar on it.
“She knows.”
“She knows what?”
“She's a savvy lady.”
“Meaning?”
“She knows that she's attractive and very, very sexy. She's a sensual, generous woman. And ordinarily I would have been very receptive to everything she could wish to give.”
“You are terribly obnoxious, you know.”
“You think so? I think I'm honest.”
“I said, if you've made previous plans—”
“No, no. You don't listen, Ms. Norman. I didn't make any plans. Although I might have done so. Riva is beautiful. She just isn't—you. She's charming and sophisticated and—she knew. She stood here and saw that I had made a previous commitment.”
“You've no commitment to me.”
“But I do.” He smiled and sipped his champagne. She wasn't sure she liked his smug look. Like the cat that had eaten the canary. “Did you have previous plans for the evening?”
“Yes. No. What difference would it really make? We don't have to start tonight. I rather thought you might like to work in the daytime. Don't artists prefer natural light?”
“It depends on what they have in mind.” It could have been an innuendo; it wasn't. He told her how he wanted the painting to have a hazy dreamlike quality. “False light, a soft beacon in the night, that's exactly what I have in mind.”
“I don't know,” Gayle murmured. “It's been a long day. Maybe
“I want details,” Tina warned her.
“There's not going to be anything to give details about, I promise you!” She hung up the phone. She felt breathless. Her heart was pounding too quickly, and shivers of anticipation were racing along her spine again. She hurried out of the office and back to the main salon.
Brent McCauley was at one of the little round hors d'oeuvres tables—pouring out two glasses of champagne. He arched a brow at Gayle. She was still breathless. She noted the champagne; she saw Riva, talking with Chad and a bearded art buyer in front of the painting of the lovers.
“Well, Ms. Norman, how am I doing? Should I still be cleaning sewers? I've done my very best to be on good behavior.”
She ignored his question. She looked straight into the black depths of his eyes.
“Do you still want me to pose for you?”
He was motionless for a moment, as if he were analyzing her question. His brow arched higher and his gaze raked over her curiously. “You've had a change of heart? Last night, I couldn't even bribe you. You've suddenly decided to bare it all?”
“Do you want me to pose or not?”
Looking amused and skeptical, he hesitated just a second longer.
“Yes, I do.”
“All right.”
“That simple?”
Why was he making it so painful now? “Yes.”
He extended a hand to her. She took it and felt the warmth spread into her chilled fingers. “It's a deal then, Ms. Norman.”
She wet her lips. “When?”
“No time better than the present.”
“What?”
“Tonight. I'd like to start tonight.”
Gayle heard the enthusiasm in his voice. He told her again how he intended to pose her, and she knew that he meant it—there was no time like the present. He could have started right then and there in the gallery. He said something about color and lights, angle and slope, and she felt shivers again. What had she promised?
“Brent?”
Riva had come to the table.
“Oh, excuse me,” Brent apologized. “Champagne, Riva. I am sorry. I got sidetracked. I didn't mean to take so long.” He handed Riva a glass of champagne and she smiled as she accepted it. She complimented Gayle on the arrangements; Gayle thanked her.
The three of them talked a moment longer. Riva watched Gayle and she watched Brent McCauley. Then she excused herself and left them.
“Did you...make previous plans?” Gayle asked him.
He shook his head.
“Oh, I thought—”
“She's a nice woman.”
“Very,” Gayle agreed. Exotic, beautiful , Gayle added in silence to herself.
Brent stepped a little closer to her, picking up a cracker, piling black caviar on it.
“She knows.”
“She knows what?”
“She's a savvy lady.”
“Meaning?”
“She knows that she's attractive and very, very sexy. She's a sensual, generous woman. And ordinarily I would have been very receptive to everything she could wish to give.”
“You are terribly obnoxious, you know.”
“You think so? I think I'm honest.”
“I said, if you've made previous plans—”
“No, no. You don't listen, Ms. Norman. I didn't make any plans. Although I might have done so. Riva is beautiful. She just isn't—you. She's charming and sophisticated and—she knew. She stood here and saw that I had made a previous commitment.”
“You've no commitment to me.”
“But I do.” He smiled and sipped his champagne. She wasn't sure she liked his smug look. Like the cat that had eaten the canary. “Did you have previous plans for the evening?”
“Yes. No. What difference would it really make? We don't have to start tonight. I rather thought you might like to work in the daytime. Don't artists prefer natural light?”
“It depends on what they have in mind.” It could have been an innuendo; it wasn't. He told her how he wanted the painting to have a hazy dreamlike quality. “False light, a soft beacon in the night, that's exactly what I have in mind.”
“I don't know,” Gayle murmured. “It's been a long day. Maybe
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