Page 104 of Not Part of the Plan
“Why with me, Emma?”
Leisurely she returned to stroking his skin, making it sing under her touch. “Because you’re special to me.”
She used his own words, and he smiled softly. He knew what he was saying with those words, but she didn’t. Not yet. She’d know tomorrow night. For better or worse, he was painfully, irrevocably in love with her. And once she saw the pictures, she’d know.
There were so many things they need to discuss. Where would they live? How would it affect their work? What compromises needed to be made? But they could figure it out. Together.
He’d never anticipated this. Not when he’d shown up on Summer’s doorstep, expecting to remind himself how perfect his life was. He’d ended up finding what he was desperately missing. Family, love,Emma.
She’d hit him harder and brighter than a bolt of lightning, and what he’d thought had been a case of lust at first sight had quickly transformed into a love he’d never imagined. She was his other half, his inspiration and conscience. And she needed him, needed him to push her to feel, to do, to let go of her strict rules every once in a while. Together, they had something special, essential. And he didn’t want a life without it, without her.
He only hoped Emma was prepared to accept his love. Because, if not, it would be one hell of a fight to make her see the light.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The gallery was a contemporary space in SoHo squeezed in between a sushi joint—that left Emma with a deep and abiding regret that Blue Moon had no such fare—and a jazz club that billowed clouds of blue smoke every time the front door opened.
The gallery was packed by the time they arrived fashionably late. The grip on her hand was the only indication of Niko’s nerves. With one settling deep breath, he opened the glass door and guided her inside. Within a matter of seconds, they were surrounded. Niko switched her to his left arm so he could keep her close while shaking congratulatory hands and accepting the accolades.
She met Niko’s agent, Amara. Emma guessed at the Korean heritage in her gorgeous, exotic face. She wore her dark hair in a razor sharp bob. Her purple framed glasses gave her a trendy, artsy vibe, and after thirty seconds with her, Emma could see why Niko liked her. Amara didn’t deal in bullshit. She made connections, pushed when necessary, and seemed to have great patience for the artist’s temperament.
“I’ll admit I was a little skeptical when you told me what you wanted to do, Niko. But as usual, you were right.”
“Proving once again why I’m the client and you’re the agent,” he teased.
Amara rolled her dark eyes. “Yeah, well, smartass, you’ve already sold seven pictures and had four offers on the one that’s not for sale. Which reminds me, Emma, you’ve got a lot of people asking after you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Take a tour around and you’ll see,” Amara said circling her finger in the air. “Gotta go circulate and earn my keep.”
As soon as Amara drifted off into the crowd, Vadim and Greta appeared, all smiles. The resounding slap Vadim laid on Niko’s back had Emma’s eyes going misty.The man’s turning me into an emotional basket case, she thought.
“Nikolai, it’s wonderful. You have such a talent,” Greta gushed, and Niko grinned.
He dropped a kiss on each cheek. “Thank you. I’m excited you both could be here.”
“We would not be missing this,” Vadim said. “Not the exhibit of my son.” He made the last statement proudly at announcement volume so that several heads turned.
Emma laughed, well familiar with embarrassing parental pride.
“Not too shabby, Nikolai,” a cool voice announced behind them. The unsmiling Katrina was dressed in Manhattan’s favorite uniform, head-to-toe black. Her sexy sweep of platinum hair was set off by dangling earrings with stones that glittered. She crossed her arms and studied him.
“I’m glad it meets your approval.” Niko’s sarcasm was playful.
“I’ve seen worse,” she mused.
“That’s a ringing endorsement from Katrina,” Greta told them with a wink.
Amara reappeared with a photographer. “Hey, let’s get you and your family and your muse together for a shot.”
It was more of a command than a suggestion. And Emma was starting to get anxious about what she would find on the walls if she was labeled Niko’s muse. They clustered together, all smiles, and when Katrina tried to step back out of the shot, Niko pulled her back in. “Come on,sis, it’s family. Smile nice.” Emma grinned as Katrina shot him a look that could have frozen a pond solid in August.
In the blur of introductions and greetings and photo ops, Emma had yet to make it more than ten feet inside the door to glimpse any of the actual art. A leggy brunette strutted up in suede thigh-high boots, a micro-mini dress, and a pout. Emma recognized the look in the woman’s eye. An ex-lover, she was sure of it. It was confirmed by the way Niko’s gaze slid from Slenderella’s face to Emma’s.
Okay. She could do this, Emma decided, blowing out a quiet breath. Internal pep talk time. No, she wasn’t six-foot-one and eighty-seven pounds. But she was the one who’d spent last night naked and satisfied in Niko’s bed. She was the one whose hair he’d held while she vomited profusely. She was the one he’d put on the walls of his exhibit... though she’d yet to see those pictures. God, what if he’d taken pictures of her barfing?
No. Get a hold of yourself, Emmaline Freaking Merill.She’d held up during understaffed Friday dinner service with a twenty-five top with no reservations. She could do this.
