Page 47 of A Game of Deception
I stood just inside the entrance, surveying the crowd. My black dress was backless, with a neckline that dipped just low enough to be interesting without crossing into inappropriate.
“Tara! You made it!”
Chloe materialized beside me, resplendent in a flowing kimono-style dress with her signature chunky jewelry and purple-streaked hair piled high on her head. She pulled me into a tight hug, smelling of the faint, herbal scent that always clung to her.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said, returning the embrace. “The place looks amazing, Chloe. You’ve outdone yourself.”
She beamed, gesturing to the packed gallery. “It’s going well, right? The new collection is already half sold.” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s good you’re wearing the dress I suggested. He’s by the bar. You weren’t kidding about the eyes. He’s hot as fuck.”
My heart rate kicked up a notch. I followed the direction of Chloe’s subtle nod. And there he was.
Xander stood with his back against the bar, a glass of what looked like sparkling water in his hand. He was dressed in dark jeans and a charcoal gray button-down, the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. He looked uncomfortable, out of place among the art world denizens with their affected poses and exaggerated gestures.
Chloe was right. He was beautiful. The harsh gallery lighting cast shadows across the planes of his face, highlighting the firm jaw, the full lips, the eyes that were indeed the exact shade of the dress I’d worn to the team launch.
As if sensing my gaze, he looked up. Our eyes met, and for a moment, everything else—the noise, the people, the art—faded away, leaving just the two of us, locked in a silent, charged exchange.
Then someone jostled me, breaking the connection. When I looked back, Xander had turned away, saying something to a gallery assistant who had approached him.
“Well?” Chloe nudged me. “Aren’t you going to go talk to him? That’s why you brought him here, right?”
“Not yet,” I said, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing server. “Let him stew longer.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “You and your games. Fine, but don’t wait too long. I need to do the sponsor announcement in about twenty minutes, and then I’m taking a select group up to the rooftop for the private viewing.”
“The rooftop?” This was news to me. “What’s up there?”
A secretive smile played across Chloe’s lips. “Something special. A surprise. Trust me, you’ll want to be part of that group.” Shesqueezed my arm. “I’ve got to circulate. The woman in the red dress is a potential major donor. Go get your man.”
Before I could correct her—Xander wasn’t “my man” in any sense of the word—she was gone, floating through the crowd.
I took a sip of champagne, using the moment to gather my thoughts. I needed to approach this carefully. The gallery was too public, too crowded for the conversation I needed to have with Xander. I’d have to wait for an opportunity to get him alone.
With a deep breath, I made my way through the crowd toward the bar. Several people stopped me to chat—friends from college, acquaintances from my father’s social circle, a few of the team’s administrative staff. I made polite conversation all the while aware of Xander’s presence, like a magnetic pull I couldn’t ignore.
When I finally reached him, he was alone again, staring into his glass.
“McCrae,” I said, slipping into my professional persona as a shield. “Glad you could make it. The sponsors appreciate your support of the community.”
He looked up, his expression guarded. “Dr. Swanson. Wouldn’t miss it.” His voice was neutral, giving nothing away. “Your friend has quite an eye. The gallery is impressive.”
“Chloe’s one of the best curators in Miami,” I agreed, leaning against the bar beside him. “She has a talent for finding beauty in unexpected places.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Is that why you invited me? As an unexpected ornament for your friend’s gallery opening?”
The bitterness in his tone caught me off guard. “No, I?—”
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Chloe’s amplified voice cut through the noise of the crowd. She stood on a small platform near the center of the gallery, microphone in hand. “First, thank you all for coming to the inaugural exhibition at Galleria Durand. Your support means the world to me and to the artists we’re showcasing tonight.”
A round of applause rippled through the crowd. Chloe waited for it to die down before continuing.
“I’d especially like to thank our major sponsors, without whom this space would not exist. Hank Swanson of Swanson Enterprises.” She gestured to my father, who stood near the front of the crowd, raising his glass in acknowledgment. “And the Miami Pirates FC, represented tonight by their star acquisition, Xander McCrae, and their physical therapist, Dr. Tara Swanson.”
All eyes turned to us. I managed a smile, raising my glass slightly. Beside me, Xander did the same.
“In a few minutes,” Chloe continued, “I’ll be taking a few of our key sponsors up to the rooftop terrace for a private viewing of a special acquisition.”
She stepped down from the platform, handing the microphone back to an assistant. As the crowd dispersed, returning to their conversations and contemplation of the art, Chloe made her way toward us.
