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Authors: Jenna Jacob
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I
jerked my head toward the stranger. Startled, I found myself gazing into the
same striking green eyes from the article about the tragedy that befell Joshua
Lars. No longer haunted with pain, the artist’s eyes held something far
scarier… awareness.
CHAPTER THREE
Joshua Lars—the Joshua Lars—stared at me like a hungry wolf evaluating a lone rabbit miles from
the safety of its burrow.
“Oh!” I gasped, extending my hand to him. “Mr. Lars,
it’s an honor.”
A modest smile crawled across his lips and my heart
tripped over itself as it skittered in my chest. “Please, call me Joshua. And
trust me, Mellie, the pleasure is all mine.”
He knew my name? No doubt he spied my surprise, as a warm chuckle rolled from the back of his
throat, sending a streak of arousal igniting within me.
“Abbas has quite a penchant for my work. I made it a
point to find out about the woman he’d sent on his behalf.”
“Oh.” I nodded, stunned that
Joshua would bother with such mundane details.
“You never answered my question, Mellie,” he reminded
me.
Joshua stepped close into my personal space. I glanced
back at the alluring woman, trying to ignore the decadent heat emanating from
his long, lean body. Quickly averting my gaze—for fear the sub statue might
pull me beneath her spell again—only to be snared by Joshua’s intense
appraisal.
“Actually, I’m a bit embarrassed by my reaction to the
piece. I was brought to tears by the sheer beauty and detail of your work,” I
fibbed.
“I see.” His expression suddenly turned somber. “My mistake. I thought perhaps she’d swayed you on some
other level.”
“Oh? What level is that?” I feigned confusion.
“It’s not important,” he replied with a wave of his
hand. “Listen, I was just on my way outside to get some air and I’d like some
company. Are you up for that?”
I swallowed tightly. “Yes. Thank you, I’d be honored.”
I smiled, then tucked my purse beneath my arm,
gripping my champagne glass to keep it from shaking.
“Come.” He smiled.
His word sounded like a command and I hesitated as he
extended his elbow. He arched an inquisitive brow as I forced my hand to grasp
the crook of his arm. His muscles felt strong and sturdy, and I wondered how
his flesh would feel, naked with me beneath him.
Joshua led me through the gallery and out the back
door. Without a word, we walked down a stone pathway surrounded by fragrant
rose bushes that did little to soothe my frazzled nerves. Though the gentle
breeze from the night air was a welcome change from the bustling, stuffy gallery
teeming with prospective buyers, it too didn’t help calm me. Nervous energy
zipped through me with a level of anxiety so foreign I didn’t know how to sort
or suppress it.
Seated on a padded bench beneath the stars, I glanced
at the foliage surrounding the courtyard, slowly sipping my champagne. I could
feel Joshua’s intense, hot gaze piercing through me, producing awkward and
unsure emotions that were so out of character for me that I tipped back the
glass and drained the contents in one big gulp. Placing the flute down, I
glanced over at him. He smiled, and I all but melted.
“It’s a beautiful night,” I blurted out nervously.
“The roses… they smell so sweet.”
“Yes,” he murmured, staring at me for a disturbingly
long time.
Darting my gaze away from him, I felt awkwardly unsure
and perplexed.
Get a grip. What the
hell is wrong with you? You act like you’re never talked to a damn man before.
Yeah, yeah, it’s Joshua Lars, big deal. Grow a set and snap out of it.
Gathering up my courage while trying to ignore the
fact that I was sitting next to one of the most talented artists of the
twenty-first century, I gathered my courage and turned to face him. It was time
to nip this shit in the bud.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“I’m memorizing every
jerked my head toward the stranger. Startled, I found myself gazing into the
same striking green eyes from the article about the tragedy that befell Joshua
Lars. No longer haunted with pain, the artist’s eyes held something far
scarier… awareness.
CHAPTER THREE
Joshua Lars—the Joshua Lars—stared at me like a hungry wolf evaluating a lone rabbit miles from
the safety of its burrow.
“Oh!” I gasped, extending my hand to him. “Mr. Lars,
it’s an honor.”
A modest smile crawled across his lips and my heart
tripped over itself as it skittered in my chest. “Please, call me Joshua. And
trust me, Mellie, the pleasure is all mine.”
He knew my name? No doubt he spied my surprise, as a warm chuckle rolled from the back of his
throat, sending a streak of arousal igniting within me.
“Abbas has quite a penchant for my work. I made it a
point to find out about the woman he’d sent on his behalf.”
“Oh.” I nodded, stunned that
Joshua would bother with such mundane details.
“You never answered my question, Mellie,” he reminded
me.
Joshua stepped close into my personal space. I glanced
back at the alluring woman, trying to ignore the decadent heat emanating from
his long, lean body. Quickly averting my gaze—for fear the sub statue might
pull me beneath her spell again—only to be snared by Joshua’s intense
appraisal.
“Actually, I’m a bit embarrassed by my reaction to the
piece. I was brought to tears by the sheer beauty and detail of your work,” I
fibbed.
“I see.” His expression suddenly turned somber. “My mistake. I thought perhaps she’d swayed you on some
other level.”
“Oh? What level is that?” I feigned confusion.
“It’s not important,” he replied with a wave of his
hand. “Listen, I was just on my way outside to get some air and I’d like some
company. Are you up for that?”
I swallowed tightly. “Yes. Thank you, I’d be honored.”
I smiled, then tucked my purse beneath my arm,
gripping my champagne glass to keep it from shaking.
“Come.” He smiled.
His word sounded like a command and I hesitated as he
extended his elbow. He arched an inquisitive brow as I forced my hand to grasp
the crook of his arm. His muscles felt strong and sturdy, and I wondered how
his flesh would feel, naked with me beneath him.
Joshua led me through the gallery and out the back
door. Without a word, we walked down a stone pathway surrounded by fragrant
rose bushes that did little to soothe my frazzled nerves. Though the gentle
breeze from the night air was a welcome change from the bustling, stuffy gallery
teeming with prospective buyers, it too didn’t help calm me. Nervous energy
zipped through me with a level of anxiety so foreign I didn’t know how to sort
or suppress it.
Seated on a padded bench beneath the stars, I glanced
at the foliage surrounding the courtyard, slowly sipping my champagne. I could
feel Joshua’s intense, hot gaze piercing through me, producing awkward and
unsure emotions that were so out of character for me that I tipped back the
glass and drained the contents in one big gulp. Placing the flute down, I
glanced over at him. He smiled, and I all but melted.
“It’s a beautiful night,” I blurted out nervously.
“The roses… they smell so sweet.”
“Yes,” he murmured, staring at me for a disturbingly
long time.
Darting my gaze away from him, I felt awkwardly unsure
and perplexed.
Get a grip. What the
hell is wrong with you? You act like you’re never talked to a damn man before.
Yeah, yeah, it’s Joshua Lars, big deal. Grow a set and snap out of it.
Gathering up my courage while trying to ignore the
fact that I was sitting next to one of the most talented artists of the
twenty-first century, I gathered my courage and turned to face him. It was time
to nip this shit in the bud.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“I’m memorizing every
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