Bowles, Jan - Bought for the Billionaire's Bed [Guilty Pleasures 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (2 page)

Chapter Two

Trent Mavers swirled the wine around his glass and glanced around the impressive double-height room. All the elite of New York were present. He spotted some familiar faces in the crowd and nodded in their direction. He’d go and speak to them soon. He just wanted to take a closer look at several paintings he was thinking about bidding on. As a hardheaded businessman any purchases he secured, needed to make sound financial sense. He required a good return on his investment.

He’d marked several items of interest in his catalogue, circling them with a ring of ink from his platinum Cartier pen. It had been a gift from Melissa for his thirty-fifth birthday.

He placed his barely-touched glass of wine on the table, wanting to keep his head clear. He knew exactly why they were offering free wine. They hoped it would loosen the wallets of even the most hardened cynic.

He walked over to the wall and studied the work of an up-and-coming artist. It was a huge piece and had immediately caught his eye. He tapped the pen against his mouth. There was just…no, he couldn’t afford to take a risk on this one. The artist had donated it himself. No doubt he wanted to gain every bit of publicity he could. He hadn’t a pedigree to back it up. Using his pen, he drew a line through the lot in the catalogue with a flourish and turned away.

“Big mistake.” A soft, lilting voice arrested his movements, and he spun back.

Never in his wildest dreams had he expected to see the vision of pure loveliness before him. For a moment, he just stared at the elegant creature. Standing some five feet four, her bone structure was incredibly petite. Pale baby-blonde hair fell about her shoulders, partially covering the sexy red dress she wore. Trent Mavers knew a cut so pleasing to the eye could only come from a top fashion house or famous designer.

Eventually, he spoke, “Excuse me? Were you speaking to me?”

When his eyes connected with hers, he felt something stir within him. Such a color he had never seen before. Like aquamarines, they sparkled as her rosebud lips broke into a sensuous smile.

“I’m sorry, please forgive my outburst. I didn’t mean to speak out loud.”

“Not at all.” He smiled back and pointed to the large painting. “Now I’m intrigued. Why do you think I’ve made a mistake by crossing this painting off my list?”

She paused for a moment before answering, “Because in my opinion, the artist Hans Vergen will become a household name, just like Picasso and Salvador Dali.”

He studied her for a moment. She couldn’t be more than twenty-four or twenty-five, yet she spoke with a confidence that belied her age. “Are you a relative?” he asked somewhat cynically. It wouldn’t be the first time an unknown artist had used a friend or family member to
spread
the word.

Her light, girlish giggle told him he was way off base. “I assure you the only reason I’m here at this event is to take a closer look at this painting. His style is so unique and forward thinking.” She pointed to some large splodges of color. “His bold strokes and attention to detail are simply sublime. What looks like random patterns are nothing less than the work of pure genius.”

He’d rarely met anyone with as much passion for art as this woman. Her features were animated, and as she continued speaking, he detected a hint of an accent. Not overtly so, but enough to pique his curiosity. She touched his arm with tiny, delicate fingers as she leaned in closer, and he breathed in her soft, feminine scent.

“You really need to view it from the other side of the room.”

Charmed by her now, he followed her and turned back to look at the piece of art. He had to admit there was something ethereal and heavenly about the painting. “Yes, it does have a certain—”

“It’s mesmerizing.” She held a hand up to her face as color flooded her cheeks. “Please excuse me, I’m not normally so outspoken, but I’m really passionate about art.”

He smiled, wondering what else she would get passionate about. “Of course.” He held out his hand. “I find your enthusiasm very refreshing. I’m Trent Mavers, by the way.”

Her tiny hand fit so snugly in his. “Mia Johansson.” Their eyes connected, and he felt as though he was drowning in the deepest aqua-blue ocean.

“Mia, such a beautiful name. It suits you.”

“Thank you.”

“Is that an accent I detect? European perhaps?”

He loved the way her eyelids briefly closed before she spoke. Her lashes brushing together with the merest of touches. “Yes, I’m Swedish.”

He nodded. She certainly looked Scandinavian with her pale complexion and blonde hair.

“Mia, now you’ve convinced me to buy the painting—”

“Are you really going to buy it?”

He smiled. She sounded like a child in a candy shop, full of wonderment and enthusiasm. “You’ve made such a strong case for the artist and his painting that I’d be a fool not to buy it.” He let his gaze wander across her pure femininity. She was beautiful, articulate, and from the look of her clothes, a woman of independent means. This was a woman who piqued his curiosity. She simply made him feel alive. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to buy you a coffee.” He said it casually, belying the importance he placed on the request.

“Oh, thank you, but I wasn’t planning on staying. I only came to see the painting.”

She looked slightly startled that he’d asked, and a knot of tension swept briefly over her brow. Maybe she didn’t want to get to know him better. He had detected an attraction between them, all the subtle undertones and chaste looks. Maybe he was just losing his touch. For such a beautiful prize, he’d try just one more time. “Nonsense, the night is still young. There’s an excellent restaurant in this very hotel. They serve wonderful coffee.”

Her face broke into the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. “A coffee would be lovely. Thank you.”

* * * *

Mia hadn’t meant to speak out loud, but when she’d seen the attractive man standing next to her strike a line through his catalogue, she couldn’t help blurting out the words.

Immediately his charm and sophistication mesmerized her. This man had an air about him that she found very arousing. Confidence simply oozed from him. It was such a simple thing, but had been totally missing in all her male student friends. Perhaps it was something one acquired with age and experience. Or maybe those who possessed it were simply born with it.

Mia had to admit the Bellini dress had transformed how she felt about herself. Just putting it on had immediately made her feel as though she was stepping into a role. Like an actress in a film, she could act out her wildest fantasy. Now she felt like someone else entirely.

Mia wondered if it had been a good idea to accept his invitation for coffee. She’d seen the painting. Surely it was now time to leave and return the dress before she got caught?

It was obvious she was already walking on thin ice by using the ticket to the event and by wearing such an expensive dress—someone else’s dress. Mia dreaded what would happen if anyone were to find out the truth.

She glanced at the painting once more and decided that the effort had been worth it. It was so beautiful, even more so in the flesh. Her gaze sought the stranger, Trent Mavers. Surely over coffee this man would start asking her questions. Questions she wouldn’t want to answer. She chewed on her bottom lip, anxious now to find a solution to her problem. How could she tell him she worked at a dry cleaners and had only borrowed the dress for an evening? She shook her head and corrected herself. Who was she kidding? Hadn’t she really stolen the dress? She would certainly give it a five-star clean once she’d finished with it, but she was still breaking the trust she had with the customer.

Trent Mavers, on the other hand, obviously liked this new creation of herself. It would be a big disappointment for him to learn the truth. Better to continue the fantasy. It wouldn’t hurt anybody, and she was hardly likely to see him again.

But what to say…

If she kept mostly to the truth, she wouldn’t have to lie too much. If he asked, she’d just say she was a freelance art dealer. No need to mention the dry cleaners. That way she’d know exactly what she was talking about. Yes, perfect.

When Trent Mavers looked at her once more, she couldn’t help but feel swept off her feet. This man certainly knew how to charm, and she found herself enjoying his attention.

“It’s this way.” His deep voice lifted the hairs on the back of her neck. He guided her toward the hotel foyer, and an awaiting elevator. She could just feel the light pressure of his hand on the small of her back. It made her feel very protected. “After you,” he murmured, allowing her to enter before him.

The elevator was completely covered in mirrors and gave her a perfect view of him from every angle.

Aged around thirty-five, he stood about six foot three and weighed some two hundred pounds. The cut of his expensive suit did little to hide the broad shoulders and fine physique she knew lay beneath.

Dark hair fell casually around his collar, and contrasted perfectly with the most beautiful amber eyes Mia had ever seen. Flecked with dark brown, their golden hue only emphasized the size of his pupils. Like a panther, they followed her every move. He smiled a sensuous smile with smooth, full lips, and two sexy dimples creased into the side of his face. Mia braced her back against the chrome and glass in an effort to appear calm. This man had an air of the predator about him, and it excited her like nothing she had known before.

“So tell me, Mia, why have you come all the way from Sweden to America?”

She smiled back, aware now that the questioning had begun. She needed to keep her wits about her. Tell the truth where she could, and omit the rest. “I took a master’s degree at the Institute for Fine Arts at New York University.”

He nodded, obviously impressed. “Then you have a very good knowledge of art. Now I’m glad I’ve decided to buy the painting.”

“Me, too.”

The elevator reached its destination, and the doors opened with barely a whisper, revealing a large, stylish restaurant decorated in a sophisticated combination of mahogany and chrome. Mia could see a magnificent panoramic view of New York through the large windows. The beautiful art deco design of the Empire State and Chrysler buildings were clearly visible. Their lights twinkling against the backdrop of nightfall made them seem somehow magical.

“Come.” He guided her from the elevator. “Now, over coffee, I hope you’re going to tell me what I should be buying next.”

Chapter Three

Trent Mavers couldn’t take his eyes off her as she sipped so elegantly at her coffee. She had a natural sophistication and elegance that he’d always admired in a woman. Yet, Mia didn’t even have to try very hard. It simply seemed a part of her personality. He watched her tuck a stray tendril of her baby-blonde hair behind her ear and realized that if he continued staring at her, he’d unnerve her.

After clearing his throat, he spoke, “So, Mia, do you miss your home country?”

“Of course, I miss Stockholm very much, but I miss my parents the most.” She sighed. “At the moment, there’s so much I want to do with my life. So many things I wish to see.”

“Tell me more,” he urged, stirring brown sugar into his coffee.

A faint smile spread on her lips, and she shook her head. “Oh, I’ve bored you enough already. You must tell me about yourself instead.”

Trent wasn’t in the least bored. He was so intrigued by her he wanted to know everything about her in the minutest of detail, but he decided to let that pass, for now. “Very well,” he smiled back, “but only if you promise to tell me all about your hopes and dreams for the future.”