Art of Deception (Contemporary Romance), Page 7

  “Max just keeps cranking them out.” She was torn between the desire to smack him on top of his head and laugh. “So, you like these paintings? Do you think Max’s newest efforts are good enough for the one-man show?”

  He stood and looked at her with a grin. “The most beautiful work of art in this studio is you, Millie.”

  A rush of warmth washed over her as she felt her color rise. “Thank you, Jon.”

  “We better get a move on or we’ll lose our reservation.” He tore his gaze from her face and gestured to the open doorway. He stood too close as she locked the heavy metal door behind them. She felt the warmth of his embrace as surely as if he was touching her.

  In the parking area, she was delighted when he swung open the door of the T-Bird. She slid onto the white leather seat.

  “Wow, this is gorgeous. I feel like I’m in a Frankie Avalon movie.”

  “I didn’t bring my bathing suit but I did tuck the beach blanket in the trunk, if you’re interested.” He gestured toward the rear of the vehicle.

  She shot him a nervous glance. “That’s handy, but I don’t think we’ll need it tonight.”

  “I was kidding,” he said. “I don’t want you to think I have any ulterior motive. Sometimes dinner and dancing is just dinner and dancing.” He started the retro vehicle and pulled out of the parking lot.

  She nodded, thinking she would have enough trouble with the dinner and dancing.

  Jon drove her to a trendy restaurant she’d only heard mentioned. The food was minimalist art on a plate, delicious and over garnished. Her dining companion was charming, entertaining her with stories about local artists and placing art in the homes of people with more money than taste.

  They finished dining and he took her to a piano bar on Richmond where they danced on an intimately lit dance floor.

  When Jon took her in his arms, she looked up into his eyes and recognized something unguarded and vulnerable. She thought he might be as frightened of her as she was of him.

  No way. She smiled and put her hand in his. She relaxed a little and inhaled his scent, nice and clean, probably very expensive. He leaned closer, resting his cheek against her temple. He held her as they moved to the music.

  Max closed her eyes giving possession of herself over to him, allowing him to lead her wherever he wished.

  At the end of the evening she had to admit that she’d had a great time. The drive back to her loft was short.

  When Jon turned off the ignition, he leaned over and planted a brief kiss on her lips. “I thought we could get that out of the way.”

  “Because...?” Max licked her lips, tasting his kiss.

  “Because I’ve wanted to do that all night.” He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. “Maybe from the first moment I saw you.”

  The glow from the streetlights made them look like they were in an old black-and-white movie. He looked the part of the leading man. Max wasn’t sure she was leading lady material.

  “Okay.” She swallowed hard. “That’s out of the way. Now what?”

  “You tell me.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead. “I don’t have a live-in friend of the opposite sex. What’s going to happen when I take you up to the loft? Is Max going to punch me out for making a move on his girlfriend?”

  She grinned at him. Silly man. He just didn’t get it. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  He came around to the passenger side and pulled her into his arms, delivering a passionate kiss that made her to feel lightheaded. “It’ll be worth it.” He held her hand and they walked into the building and up the three flights of stairs in silence.

  Max unlocked the door and stepped into the darkness, allowing the comfort of her home turf to wrap around her like a protective cocoon. She turned, smiling her dimpled smile at him. “Didn’t I tell you that Max has a date tonight?” It felt good to be telling the truth, at least in one statement.

  He stood in the hall, staring at her. “No, you failed to mention that little tidbit.”

  “I have half a bottle of pinot grigio in the fridge. It needs to be drunk. I hear it calling to me. Do you hear it, Jon?”

  He smiled and stepped across the threshold. “I do.”

  “Please sit down and make yourself at home.” She gestured to the futon, the only horizontal surface in the loft other than the bathtub. Without turning on the harsh pendant light, Max walked to the refrigerator and took out the wine. She found two clean jelly glasses and returned to sit beside Jon.

  While he poured the wine, she lit a patchouli scented candle and placed it on the stool she used as a coffee table. The candle and the almost full moon glowing through the skylight lent enough illumination for her to see Jon’s expression.

  The warmth of his eyes in the flickering candlelight stirred feelings deep within her. He reached out to touch her arm. “Is it alright for me to be here?”

  “This is my home.” Her voice grew thick, strangled by the desire to tell him the truth yet silenced by her promise to Willa.

  “And Max?”

  “This is Max’s studio,” she said. “Max paints here.”

  Jon released a deep breath. “So you and Max aren’t...”

  “Shut up, Jon.”

  “Yes, Millie.” He kissed her again. “Where do you sleep?”

  “Right here,” she said. “You’re sitting on my bed.”

  He gave a short burst of laughter. “Millie, you’re the most unique girl I’ve ever met.” He took a sip of the wine and set it back on the stool. “You aren’t the least bit materialistic. You’re loyal to your friends and you’ve completely enchanted me. I’m under your spell.”

  A flutter of panic rose in her chest. “Jon, please don’t overwhelm me. I think we’re too different to be good for each other.”

  “Just be yourself, your refreshingly unaffected self.” His voice dropped in timbre. “You know, I think about you all the time.”

  She kept her gaze averted from the dark vortex threatening to suck her in. Giant tentacles wrapped around her gut. “You don’t know me,” she squeaked out.

  “I’ll admit that, but I want to know everything about you.” He reached out to stroke her cheek.

  “I hope you like me when you do.”

  He smiled, taking her hand. “Me, too.”

  A giggle rose up from her core. “You don’t seem at all concerned that I might not like you.”

  “It’s not something I can control. You either will or you won’t. I hope you will.” He kissed her fingertips. His lips felt soft amid the slight bristle of beard already starting to appear on his chin.

  Max took a sip of wine to allow a moment of recovery. “You’re not the way I thought you were.”

  “And how is that?” His deep voice held a note of amusement.

  “Stuck up, egotistical.”

  He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “No, you were right. I’m egotistical about some things. Aren’t you?”

  That was the last thing she expected him to admit. “Yes, I guess.”

  “I’m very proud of the business I’ve built and my ability to please discriminating clients when I change their décor.”

  “I’ll have to see your work sometime.” I showed you mine. Now, show me yours.

  “That can be arranged. Maybe you’ll let me make some suggestions for your loft. Lofts can be tricky living spaces to work with. Most places are primarily four walls and a floor. Here, the windows and the height of the ceiling add an exciting dimension.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m excited all the time.”

  “There are some unique challenges peculiar to lofts and it depends on your taste as to how you deal with them.”

  “My taste is what you see.”

  “Minimalist-Retro.” He was grinning now.

  “What are you saying?”

  “Somehow I don’t think you’re decorating style has evolved yet.”

  “Someday, maybe I’ll find out what it is.” She set her glass on the makeshift
table.

  “Tomorrow would be a good day.”

  “For what?” Max’s spine tingled with anticipation. Why does he make me feel this way?

  “I’m going to pick you up and take you to my design studio. You can see what I do for a living. Does that work for you?”

  I have paintings to paint for you, idiot. I don’t have any time to waste. “That sounds great. What time will you be here?”

  “I could just stay the night.” The warmth in his eyes was scorching.

  Ouch! “I don’t think that will be necessary.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “That will have to do,” he said. “I think I heard a ‘Goodnight, Jon,’ in there.”

  “You have very acute hearing.” She finished her wine and stood. “I enjoyed the evening very much.”

  “Not as much as I have.” He stood and took both her hands in his. “May I kiss you again?”

  A wave of heat rose from her core. Max tried to sound casual. “You didn’t feel the need to ask earlier.”

  “But I’m asking you now.”

  She stepped into his arms and lifted her lips to his. It was a ‘close your eyes and melt your toes’ kind of kiss. She felt the tremor as Jon’s arms closed around her and his lips ignited a wildfire within her.

  “Good answer,” he breathed as he released her. “I look forward to your call.” He turned to the door.

  She unlocked the series of safety devices attached to the heavy metal door and allowed him to pass through it.

  He smiled and made for the stairs.

  She watched him disappear and closed the door. Amok. I am definitely running amok.

  ~*~

  Max only had one dress left. It was a soft grey with lime green accents. She liked the colors and thought about using the palette for a painting. It was a little much for going to Jon’s studio. After all, it was a studio.

  She located a pinkish colored Henley she’d accidentally washed with a red shop towel. There were no holes in it and it wasn’t adorned with paint splotches. She paired it with a pair of faded black low-rider jeans. Not the best, but she was just visiting a studio, after all.

  Max eschewed the ballerina flats in favor of the red Chuck Taylors and searched out some coins from her change jar. Taking Jon’s card to the lobby, she dropped the coins in the pay phone. She had to talk to three people to reach Jon.

  “Hey!” she said, by way of greeting.

  “Hey, yourself,” he said. “Are you ready for a tour?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  “I’ll be there to pick you up in fifteen minutes.”

  “I’ll meet you downstairs.” She did not want him back in her loft so soon. Not when she’d had so much trouble falling asleep after his kisses.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  After she’d hung up, Jon realized he was clutching the telephone receiver and grinning like an idiot.

  Courtney, his intern, was staring at him with her skinny, drawn on eyebrows raised almost up to her hairline.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes, Courtney.” He strode out of the office and into the outer area of the design firm. Lesser designers occupied cubicles and shared a communal worktable. Jon spoke to others, nodding and smiling as he made his way to the elevator. In the underground parking garage, Jon made eye contact with someone he’d rather not have seen at all.

  Oleg Cantwell, who had a small office on an upper floor of the same building, was just getting out of his car. He made a grimace resembling a smile in Jon’s direction, both of his chins creasing with the effort. He opened his mouth as if to speak but Jon silenced him with a wave of his hand.

  “No time to waste, Cantwell,” he said. “I’m on my way out.”

  “You said it,” Oleg countered. “I didn’t.”

  “You’re such an ass,” Jon said.

  “Be that as it may, you’re artistic style is waning and my star is shining bright.” Oleg’s nasal twang hummed through his words. “Old hat.”

  “You’re mixing metaphors,” Jon said. “And I’m quite a bit younger than you.”

  “But my designs are fresher. Wait until you see the painting Max Foster is doing for the Unger house. The boy is pure genius.”

  “You’ve met Max Foster?” Jon stopped in his tracks. Oleg suddenly had his full attention.

  Oleg’s eyes looked like raisins in freshly risen bread dough. “Of course. He’s a great fan of mine. The dear boy has a wee bit of a crush on me.” Oleg took on a conspiratorial tone. “But, of course, I’m in a committed relationship.”

  “You should be committed,” Jon said. “You’re delusional.”

  “When you see the phenomenal painting Max is creating for me, you’ll just pass out.” Oleg ducked his head and pretended to feel faint, fanning his face with both soft, ivory hands. “You’ll be so jealous.”

  Jon considered a moment. “Nope. Not a bit.” He pushed past Oleg and climbed into his vintage vehicle.

  He couldn’t be bothered with mundane trifles when he was on his way to pick up Millie. Still, he’d be glad when the painting Max had promised Cantwell was delivered and the relationship between the two could be permanently severed.

  ~*~

  Max was watching for Jon and when he entered the parking lot, she pushed out of the glass door.

  He stopped the T-Bird and swung the door open for her. “Good Morning, Millie.”

  She slid onto the seat and closed the door. His scent enveloped her, making her feel warm. She thought about his arms around her last night, when they were dancing, when they were kissing. She smiled at him.

  “Did you sleep well,” he asked.

  “Like a dead thing,” she replied cheerily.

  “Me neither.” He gazed at her and chuckled before putting the T-Bird into drive and pulling out into traffic.

  They chatted during the brief ride to the Houston Design Center, an area clustered with design studios and artsy shops catering to the design trade.

  He pulled into his reserved parking space under the design firm. They walked-hand-in hand to the elevator and rode up to the ground floor office.

  When the elevator doors silently opened, she gasped in surprise. The elegant foyer looked like a theatre set. The reception desk was manned by a sleek young woman wearing a telephone earpiece like Madonna. The polished black marble desk surface sported brushed nickel hardware.

  Max felt woefully underdressed but Jon didn’t seem to notice.

  “This way.” He steered her through the double doors. “Here’s the conference room and the individual designers have offices in the back. This is my office.” He stood aside for her to enter.

  A young woman with spiky black hair and thin brows drawn in black was seated at a drawing board.

  “This is Courtney, my intern.” Jon gestured toward the woman. “She’s doing post grad work at the University of Houston. Courtney, this is my friend, Millie.”

  Courtney glanced up from her work and gave what passed for a smile. She must have been trying for the anorexic look because everything about her was thin including her blood-red lips and the magenta cats-eye glasses.

  Max gave her a finger wave as Jon drew her into his office. It was the complete opposite of the lobby. Everything was antique, light-colored and looked too fancy to sit on.

  “This is your style?” Gay! Absolutely gay.

  “Think middle-aged River Oakes matron,” Jon said. “Her husband is on the golf course and she’s here spending his money. This room is for her.”

  “I’m sure they all adore you.” She turned in a complete circle, taking in the whole room. “It’s really pretty, like I would imagine Marie Antoinette’s boudoir.”

  “Ouch!” he said. “Come back to my studio.” He led her through another door. This room was filled with a mélange of projects in progress. Color swatches and books of wall covering samples were strewn about, along with fabric and paint samples. A large rectangular work table dominated the center of the room with
three renderings spread out on top of it.

  Jon stepped back as she moved closer to his art work.

  She picked up the nearest, a scale drawing of a grand salon done in shades of grey with black, white marble veined in greenish grey and oiled bronze fixtures.

  The next was a child’s room, all gauzy in peach and cream. She smiled when she saw that he’d drawn the head of a young curly haired tot in one corner.

  In the third, he’d drawn a dining room with a mural at one end. His drawing depicted a Tuscan hillside viewed through tromp l’oille arches.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I can see why you think my loft needs a little work.” She turned to him with a smile. “Where are the abstracts?”

  “I don’t do abstracts. I’m not an artist,” he said.

  “Yes you are. These are beautiful. I love the child’s face. Who is it?”

  “It’s Annie,” he said. “This will be her room.”

  “Lucky Annie,” she said.

  “Sit down,” he directed. “I want to know everything you like.”

  “I’m very fond of pistachios and tin roof sundae ice cream.” She took a seat on one of the black leather stools pulled up to the table. “I like to go sailing although I haven’t gotten to go in a while.”