Page 12 of The Last Date

My warm breath hovered just under the ear, skimming across her flesh. Waiting, she began to tremble. My lips gently kissed a line toward her spine, pulling her dress down a few inches to expose a bit more of her soft skin.

Sasha moaned, her fingers fluttering against her thighs, her entire body twitching. Removing my lips, she stood as still as she could, clearly wanting more.

I darted for the door, disappearing without looking back.

CHAPTER FIVE

* Sasha *

Monday had begun with such a dramatic start that the rest of the day paled in comparison.

Whoever my mystery man Oakley was, he knew his food. It was the most incredible coffee of my life, and the biscuits were astounding.

I knew that he was doing this on purpose. Teasing me so that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was annoying to admit that it was working so well, but it was the truth. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, not for a minute.

Tuesday morning I couldn’t help hoping that Oakley would arrive again, but there was no sign of him. I should have at least found out where he got that coffee.

Luckily, I was busy enough to stay a bit distracted. My boss, Collin, the owner of the gallery, had sold five pieces to one of his acquaintances.

As I wrapped and prepared to ship them, I couldn’t help wondering whether I should be using my parent’s contacts to find new clients for the gallery. My dad had set me up with an interview here in the first place, when he was discouraging me from being an artist, but realized that I needed to work with art.

Many wealthy people wanted impressive art in their homes, but they didn’t know very much about it.

Everyone told me that I had the perfect touch. I wasn’t a natural salesperson, I only wanted to talk about the art itself. But I also learned about the artists, and what made them tick.

It was incredibly exciting to be able to explain what the artist was going through that crafted that particular work. It created an extra angle that could sometimes be used to make the sale.

If something was painted in joy, people might want that energy in their home. If something was painted with great intensity, I could word it so that it sounded like a wonderful piece for a corporate board room.

Plus, when couples came to the gallery in person, I was an expert at making everyone feel comfortable, and using any excuse to make them tea or serve them wine.

The longer they stayed in the space, the more likely they were to fall in love with a painting.

Sometimes I felt like I was living a version of the old saying, “Those who can’t do, teach.” In my case, it was more like, “Those who can’t draw, sell art.”

I’d always dreamed of being a painter, but my lack of natural drawing skills slowed me down. I’d gotten incredible marks in school, and a lot of encouragement, but when I’d applied to go to an art school in Italy for a year, I was turned down. I think that my dad even made calls and tried to pull strings to get me in, but it still didn’t work.

I resigned myself to learning art history, and using my obsession for color and style to sell the art of others who were far more talented than I would ever be.

At around three in the afternoon, just after I waved goodbye to a man who bought a small floral piece for his sister’s birthday, the phone rang.

As always, my heart jumped into my throat, hoping it was Oakley.

“Brightman Gallery, this is S

asha. How may I help you?”

“Hello. My name is Michael, and I’m currently decorating a space for the Eastman Corporation with a bit of a time crunch.”

Grabbing my notepad, I was already excited. Perhaps I could sell two or three pieces at once. “I’d be happy to help. We just got some great pieces from several new artists. Would you like to come in to take a look?”

“Actually, it’s a huge area,” he explained. “I was wondering if you could drop in and view the spaces, then tell me how many pieces I need, and what sizes.”

It was hard to stifle a laugh as I realized if I were a cartoon, there would be dollar signs flashing in my eyes.

“Absolutely. I could close a bit early today and be there at five. Would that work?”

“Great. Thank you, Sasha.”

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