Page 25 of Painted in Love

But he refused to show any sign of weakness. Hands on his hips, he stared her down. Maybe he should have taken her hand, shaking it as he would that of an acquaintance. But they were so far from that. Exactly what, he didn’t know. But acquaintances? Not.

Then he let almost every thought in his head fall out of his mouth. “I had no idea when we slept together last night.” He felt the hardness in his voice deep down in his chest. “When you said it was just a one-night thing and it was over.” This morning, he hadn’t wanted it to be over. But what did he want now? “It never occurred to me you’d be part of San Holo’s world.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “But I’m good at compartmentalizing. While I’m shocked to see you here—” He didn’t mind admitting it. “—I’ll put that aside and grill the hell out of you about your boss.” He hadn’t forgotten his mission, and he made sure she didn’t forget it either. “Because I am going to find out who he is.”

She stood there, absorbing his tirade, if it could be called that, her face growing paler by the moment. He didn’t sense fear or see a stalked-deer look in her eyes. But when she let out a breath, he heard the jitter in it. Nervous, then.

He tightened his lips to a thin line. “You knew who I was last night, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Like you said, I’m in the art world.”

“You searched me out after I made that offer to San Holo’s agent?”

It wasn’t possible. He’d only just left Adrian Fielding’s office when he’d seen Saskia Oliver bopping down the street like she hadn’t a care in the world. She hadn’t seen him, just like she hadn’t seen the robotaxi. But he wanted to hear her deny it.

“I recognized you after the car almost hit me.” She nodded her head in punctuation. “But I didn’t know about the commission for San Holo. Not until this morning, after—” After that freaking fabulous night they’d spent together. Then she added, “I didn’t sleep with you because you’re Clay Harrington or because you want something from San Holo.” She blinked, her gaze cleared, and the jitters seemed to fall away. “I slept with you because I wanted to.”

His heart went into overdrive as she said the only thing his body wanted to hear. He was a businessman, and astute, he liked to think. He’d have noticed if she’d had ulterior motives.

Then she smiled and damn near knocked him sideways. Christ, that smile. It made him think of the moment before she took him in her mouth. The moment before she took him inside her body. The moment before she drove him absolutely insane.

“So,” she said. “Now that’s out of the way, shall we get down to business? Here’s how San Holo works.”

Just standing next to her, scenting her as if she were his mate, the memories of last night assaulting his system, he realized she’d blown every brain cell in his head. He’d intended to go on about meeting San Holo before he agreed to anything. He’d intended to grill her. But instead, he found himself simply looking at her beautiful face, that seductive body beneath the sweater, listening to the voice that stroked his every nerve ending.

“Adrian says you want a mural around the entire warehouse.”

Entranced and speechless again—holy hell, he hadn’t even invited her past the lobby yet—he could only nod.

“Here’s what you do. Give us a basic idea of what you’d like.” She shrugged. “Say you want dinosaurs. But you don’t want mermaids or unicorns.”

He found his voice. “No dinosaurs, mermaids, or unicorns, thank you very much.”

She blinded him with her smile. “After that, San Holo runs with it. You get what you get. Which is San Holo’s vision of what you asked for.” She knocked him dead with an even more brilliant smile. “But I guarantee it will blow your mind.”

Oh yeah, his mind was blown, all right.

She crossed her arms over her delectable chest. “Tell me how you’re going to guarantee San Holo’s anonymity while working on a mural that stretches all around this building. Which is massive, by the way. This project could take months.” She stepped even closer to him, fogging his mind with the scent of fruity shampoo and mango lotion, and poked him in the chest. “That means maintaining anonymity from you too.”

He’d let Saskia have the floor long enough. “I told Adrian Fielding that part of my deal was having San Holo meet my protégé. Dylan is a foster kid. Your artist is his hero.”

Something he couldn’t read flickered in her eyes, then she gave a slight shake of her head. “Not going to happen. No matter how much you push, I’m not divulging anything about my boss. If you were to find out San’s real identity, I have no idea what you’d do with that information. I am my artist’s shield. No one gets through. If you can’t guarantee that you won’t peek while San is working, then this commission won’t happen.”

Her voice had turned almost hostile, and he cocked his head as though he might see her differently from another angle. “You’re suspicious of me and my motives, aren’t you?” He paused a beat. “Even after last night?”

She didn’t wait even a beat. “I totally am.” She gave a hard emphasis to her words. “Especially after last night.”

He had to concede the point. Sex definitely complicated things. “Fair enough. In the art world, we all know tons of people have cheated and lied and stolen.”

The hard light in her eyes said she knew that from personal experience. “Exactly.”

Christ, how he wanted to plumb her depths and figure her out. She’d talked about trust issues, and here was further evidence of them. But he changed his tack for the moment. “Okay, so let me tell you about the warehouses.”

He had a plan: introduce her to Dylan and all the other artists with studios here, and maybe the great artist would change his mind after she told him what Clay was actually doing.

She hadn’t imagined he’d be angry she’d ghosted him this morning after a night of great sex. But he was a man, and the way she’d walked out had pricked his ego. Yet, after getting out his feelings—if a man ever truly got out his feelings—he was completely businesslike, as if he really could compartmentalize his emotions. That was the word he used. She wondered if she could compartmentalize as easily.

Nor had he given up on discovering San Holo’s true identity. Maybe he’d try another frontal attack, or maybe he would skillfully glean information from whatever she said. But figure out who San Holo truly was? Like hell he would.

This could very well turn out to be a battle royal. She intended to win.

---