Read Online The Exhibition (An Executive Decision Trilogy) by Grace Marshall - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Grace Marshall
Ads: Link
contribution tonight. You clearly impressed everyone. Your heart shows through your work. That’s where your power is.’ She held the woman’s gaze. ‘And it’s a lot of power. A lot of power. Remember that.’
Then she turned and moved on shaky legs toward the exit, thankful for Al’s strong arm to lean on.
Chapter Six
Ingrid Watson woke alone amid a tangle of expensive linens in the middle of a huge bed. Through the thick haze of a champagne hangover it took her a few seconds to remember where she was and how she’d gotten there. And when it all came flooding back to her – the big win last night at the art auction; the evening with Terrance Jamison that had ended in the glorious suite at the Plaza Hotel – somehow her head hurt just a little less. She had won! Ingrid Watson from Farmville, Minnesota had won! She had won out over the sophisticated, polished locals and the graduates from expensive art schools. Her work had made an outrageous amount of money for the auction and got everyone’s attention, hands-down. And then she’d left New World Gallery on the arm of the very sexy man who had just bought her sculpture for a million dollars. A million dollars!
She sat up in bed and looked around the room for Mr. Jamison, realizing with an embarrassed smile that even after all the naughty things they’d done in that big, expensive bed, they weren’t even on a first name basis, but then what was in a name? When the man was nowhere to be found, she recalled that Terrance Jamison always rose before dawn. She had gleaned that fact in her frantic and less than thorough search for information about him on her iPhone while he was bidding for her sculpture. She hadn’t even known who he was until he bought her sculpture for an obscene amount of money. The man had driven the price up in a dizzying competition with two other bidders, and then it was as if he had just gotten tired of the game, and simply bid a million. A nice round number, he’d said later as they rode to the Plaza together in his very swank limo. And that had been that. His generosity had left the room in an uproar and had left an excited Ingrid claiming the prize and frantically trying to figure out who this insane man was.
She eased herself out of bed, sore from way more sex than she’d had, well … ever. After a night with Jamison, she could hardly count the gropings and fumblings of her limited experience, not really. She looked around. Her clothes, which last night had been strewn carelessly across the floor from the sitting room to the bed, were nowhere to be found. But Mr. Jamison’s white shirt was still draped neatly over the back of the chair where he had left it last night. She pulled the shirt to her face, taking in the smell of expensive cologne mixed with the dark, mysterious scent of the man himself. Then she slipped into it and wrapped it tightly around her. Instantly she felt her nipples peak against the fabric that had caressed his body just a few hours ago.
She smiled to think what a gentleman he had been. Perhaps that’s the way it was with older men. She’d never been with one before. She’d never been with anyone who wasn’t either as awkward and bumbling as she was or so full of themselves that they were barely aware of her being anything more than a hole for their cocks. But Terrance Jamison had even asked permission to kiss her, had even asked if she was sure she wanted him to make love to her. Of course, by the time he got around to asking, she was aching for it in every cell of her body, aching for it in a way she didn’t even know she could. And my God! He hadn’t disappointed. He was a bit rougher than she had expected, but not without her permission, and she figured, experienced as he no doubt was, he’d intuited that she would like it that way. That was something even she hadn’t known about herself.
Then the silence of the present encroached on her thoughts, and she wondered if he had left her there
Then she turned and moved on shaky legs toward the exit, thankful for Al’s strong arm to lean on.
Chapter Six
Ingrid Watson woke alone amid a tangle of expensive linens in the middle of a huge bed. Through the thick haze of a champagne hangover it took her a few seconds to remember where she was and how she’d gotten there. And when it all came flooding back to her – the big win last night at the art auction; the evening with Terrance Jamison that had ended in the glorious suite at the Plaza Hotel – somehow her head hurt just a little less. She had won! Ingrid Watson from Farmville, Minnesota had won! She had won out over the sophisticated, polished locals and the graduates from expensive art schools. Her work had made an outrageous amount of money for the auction and got everyone’s attention, hands-down. And then she’d left New World Gallery on the arm of the very sexy man who had just bought her sculpture for a million dollars. A million dollars!
She sat up in bed and looked around the room for Mr. Jamison, realizing with an embarrassed smile that even after all the naughty things they’d done in that big, expensive bed, they weren’t even on a first name basis, but then what was in a name? When the man was nowhere to be found, she recalled that Terrance Jamison always rose before dawn. She had gleaned that fact in her frantic and less than thorough search for information about him on her iPhone while he was bidding for her sculpture. She hadn’t even known who he was until he bought her sculpture for an obscene amount of money. The man had driven the price up in a dizzying competition with two other bidders, and then it was as if he had just gotten tired of the game, and simply bid a million. A nice round number, he’d said later as they rode to the Plaza together in his very swank limo. And that had been that. His generosity had left the room in an uproar and had left an excited Ingrid claiming the prize and frantically trying to figure out who this insane man was.
She eased herself out of bed, sore from way more sex than she’d had, well … ever. After a night with Jamison, she could hardly count the gropings and fumblings of her limited experience, not really. She looked around. Her clothes, which last night had been strewn carelessly across the floor from the sitting room to the bed, were nowhere to be found. But Mr. Jamison’s white shirt was still draped neatly over the back of the chair where he had left it last night. She pulled the shirt to her face, taking in the smell of expensive cologne mixed with the dark, mysterious scent of the man himself. Then she slipped into it and wrapped it tightly around her. Instantly she felt her nipples peak against the fabric that had caressed his body just a few hours ago.
She smiled to think what a gentleman he had been. Perhaps that’s the way it was with older men. She’d never been with one before. She’d never been with anyone who wasn’t either as awkward and bumbling as she was or so full of themselves that they were barely aware of her being anything more than a hole for their cocks. But Terrance Jamison had even asked permission to kiss her, had even asked if she was sure she wanted him to make love to her. Of course, by the time he got around to asking, she was aching for it in every cell of her body, aching for it in a way she didn’t even know she could. And my God! He hadn’t disappointed. He was a bit rougher than she had expected, but not without her permission, and she figured, experienced as he no doubt was, he’d intuited that she would like it that way. That was something even she hadn’t known about herself.
Then the silence of the present encroached on her thoughts, and she wondered if he had left her there
Similar Books
