He kept pacing behind me, taunting me with his lingering presence while I kept my eyes glued straight ahead on the painting in front of me…which I certainly wasn’t buying now that I knew it was his.
“That’s certainly how you choose to appear to people when you’re out there in the park,” I told him. “I bet those people don’t know you frequent high society balls either. It’d ruin your whole starving artist schtick, wouldn’t it?”
“People see and assume what they want to. You’re perfect proof of that.”
I finally spun on my heels to face him. “And you go along with it, letting them buy into whatever lies you exude. Otherwise known as…a liar.”
“Keeping an air of mystery about you isn’t the same as being a liar.” He quipped, arching a brow. “You should know that better than anyone. Everyone’s talking about the mysterious Isabella Landson. Heartstring’s prized bachelorette…or whatever they’re calling you.”
“So now you do know what Heartstring is? At least you’re admitting to the truth of something.”
“I see you were admiring my painting.” He lifted his glass towards it, over my shoulder.
“Admiring is hardly the word I would choose for what I was doing,” I scoffed. “I prefer moredistinguishedworks. Ones that are highly coveted and usually sell out on opening night.”
No sooner than I said the words, one of the curators popped over and slapped a red dot sticker next to the title card. “Congrats, Dawson. Another one sold. That’s nearly all of them. I expect you’ll be sold out by the end of the night.”
The guy vanished again into the crowd, leaving me to face Dawson’s cocky smile.
“Distinguished and highly coveted, huh?” he smirked.
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “Your smugness is deplorable.”
“And yet we keep running into each other.” His eyes dropped down the length of my body, once again drinking me up in ways I wished he wouldn’t…but regretfully loved at the same time. “And I must say…every time we do you look better than the time before. Kudos to you…andthat dress.Mmm.”
“You’re a pig,” I huffed.
“I prefer the term boar,” he rasped, his voice dropping low as he inched in closer. His voice vibrated through my ears. “A beast with needs, and his sights set on exactly who he wants to devour.”
I shuttered from his sexy purr, wishing he didn’t have that effect on me. He was just like his paintings. I kept getting sucked in like a pitiful unsuspecting victim, only to find he was the source of what was intriguing me…what wasarousingme. And there didn’t seem to be a damn thing I could do to stop it…no more than I could stop us from running into each other all over town, even in the most unlikely of places.
8
Dawson
Isabella was a vision in her black dress, perched on her stiletto heels. She would never admit it, but I could see the sexual hunger in her eyes…and the boredom. Like she was just waiting for someone to come along and unwrap her. Someone likeme, no matter how hard she pretended to hate me.
“Can I get you another drink?” I asked, eyeing her nearly empty glass. “You might appreciate some of this art better the more you drink.”
“I have no doubt,” she rolled her eyes across several of my nearby paintings. “But I don’t need you to get me a drink. I’m actually here with someone. He just went to the bar himself.”
“Oh? Finally met someone, eh?” I raised a brow, circling her as she tossed back the last of her wine. “Is this guy good enough to take the infamous Isabella Landson off the market for good? No more Cinderella balls or big billboards in Times Square? What will you do then?”
“Enjoy my privacy again…and the freedom from creeps like you who think I’m just dying for you to stalk me around town and rope me into terribly dull banter at every turn.”
“Oh come on.” I frowned. “Creep? Dull? Really? I’m notthatbad.”
She simply blinked with a blank look on her face, neither confirming nor denying.
“I’m not holding you down or anything,” I huffed. “Nothing’s stopping you from running off and avoiding me the rest of the night just like you did at the big debutante ball. Seriously, Isabella…Now that we’ve crossed paths so many times, I have to admit…I kind of like you. I’m not going to stand in the way of whatever date you bagged for tonight, but how about a truce?”
She sneered at my hand as I reached out for a shake to seal the deal. “A truce?”
“Yeah, come on. Let’s be friends. Pals. We might as well be. We keep running into each other all over town anyway…and despite what you think, that’s not because of anything I’m doing intentionally. Other than just existing with astonishingly good luck,” I winked.
“Friends?” she scoffed. “I don’t need any more friends.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I smirked. “Friends you have. It’s a boyfriend you’re lacking. I believe I’ve already told you I could help you out with that too.”