The Masterpiece (Work of Art #3) (21 page)

“Really,” she says, with one eyebrow raised and a devilish smile. She turns to Max. “I bet you’d love to watch some of that. Straight men just love to watch two women get it on.”

Before he can respond, the music shuts down and Xio whistles loudly to get everyone’s attention. A large cake is rolled out, covered with candles and sparklers, and the crowd breaks into a rowdy rendition of “Happy Birthday to You.”

Joe beams, and when the singing stops, he steps forward. “First, I wanna love up my beautiful Xio for putting this together. This is the best birthday ever, girl.” He hugs her, she kisses him, and everyone cheers.

“And while I have your attention, thanks everyone for helping me celebrate thirty years in this crazy-ass life of mine. Also, a special shout out to my friends that traveled some distance to be here: Jackie and Michael, Cleo and Will, and my brother Hank, who just got cast in the traveling show of
Chicago.
So, when it comes to L.A., I expect all of you to go see him.”

Hank takes a theatrical bow and everyone claps loudly.

“Yeah! Hey, thanks to Zane for selling the paintings that are paying for this party. Oh, and a big congrats to our girl, Ava, who I just found out scored the coolest job hosting a TV show about artists…So, all you artists out there be extra nice to beautiful Ava. Hopefully, she’ll remember her good friend Joe when they’re looking for artists to feature.”

Max has an uncomfortable look on his face.

“I also hear that she’ll be moving to the Big Apple for this job, so watch out, New York…here she comes!”

There’s a cheer, and Joe goes on with a few other announcements, but I can’t hear while my heart pounds in my ears. With so very few words, Joe’s managed to douse Max and me with icy cold water. The sexy, loving vibe is shattered, and I’m suddenly deflated.

Just a moment later, an artist named Seamus, who has a reputation for acute marketing savvy, pulls me aside to talk about his new show. Immediately, one of those damn art sluts corners Max. I swear, they have radars in their fake tits.

Between the swirling crowd, loud music, and dramatic lighting, everything’s moving too fast, and I can’t even think straight. As Seamus describes his most recent accomplishments, I look at Max, whose expression is unreadable as he looks into the distance while the art slut babbles on. I can tell he’s shutting down.

Enough
, I resolve to pull up my big girl panties and take control of the situation. I explain to Seamus that I’d be happy to talk about the show another time, and he hands me a business card before I step away. Sliding behind Max, I wrap my arms around him and kiss his neck.

“Wanna dance, handsome?” I interrupt.

I feel him relax. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Excuse us.” I give the pissed off redhead in front of him a smug smile.

I take his hand and lead him through the crowd until we’re on the edge of the dance floor. The music is slow, so I wrap my hands around his neck and hold him close. There’s a lot going on around us, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he focuses his gaze solely on me. He holds me as we move slowly together, and I feel his need, his overwhelming want through every fiber of my being.

I’ve dressed a little more provocatively than usual tonight—probably from a powerful desire to keep Max’s complete focus on me. We don’t have many moments like this left before I leave.

And, although I was right when I guessed there would be a lot of beautiful women at this party, I shouldn’t have worried. We’re in our bubble, even with people swarming around us.

He looks down and smiles. “You picked quite the night to dress sexy.”

“You like?”

“I love.” His jaw flexes as he pulls me closer. He looks up for a moment.

“So what did that fucking opportunist Seamus say?”

“Nothing I was interested in. And the redhead?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t listening.”

“As for my outfit, I knew there’d be a lot of distractions tonight, and I wanted to keep you on your toes and wound up.” I bite my bottom lip provocatively.

“Well, your plan is working. I’m wound up, all right.”

“I’m wound up too. Just look at you!” He’s wearing the jeans that fit like they were tailored just for him with his fitted black shirt. Between his gorgeous face, height, and perfect physique, he’s everything I desire. “You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”

“Ever?” He arches his brows as he waits for my answer. He’s confident about his looks and prowess, and it gets me even more worked up.

“Oh, yes.” I feel my cheeks color.

He smiles, leading me in a slow spin before taking me into his arms. “What shall we do about it?”

“When we get back to Malibu, I’m going to model my new lingerie. I went shopping at Agent Provocateur last week with you in mind. And once you’re good and aroused, I’m going to slowly undress you and run my hands—”

“Wait a minute, are you wearing it now?”

“Yes, I am.” He looks so captivated, I imagine he’s picturing what I’m wearing underneath my clothes.

“Black?”

“Yes, very sheer and very tiny. My nipples peek out of the top of the lacy bra, and my ass…well, you get the idea.”

He swallows hard as his hands move down low on my hips. “What are we waiting for then?”

We barely have time to say our good-nights before he ushers me to the car. He drives down Sunset Boulevard a little fast for my taste, but I appreciate the reason for speed. At a stoplight, he turns to me with a dark look in his eyes.

“I can’t wait. I want a preview.” He gestures to my breasts.

“Are you sure? We still have a long drive.”

He nods and hungrily watches my fingers unbutton the first few buttons of my little top. I part the fabric, revealing my breasts spilling out of the most delicate black lace. I can feel the flush move across my chest, and my nipples harden under his gaze.

“Do you like it?” I whisper.

“Fuck…” He groans and his breathing gets raspy.

It takes great resistance not to look at his lap. If he’s already aroused, I won’t be able to keep my hands off him, driving or not.

His fingers tighten over the steering wheel as he shifts in his seat. The light changes to green. Suddenly, he makes a sharp left turn and guns the engine.

“Where are we going?”

“Your place. I won’t make it all the way to Malibu.”

I squeeze my thighs together and tighten my seatbelt, saying silent thanks that my apartment’s only minutes away. Nothing’s hotter than a worked up Max. People complain about the high cost of sexy lingerie, but you can’t put a price on the look of want that my little reveal sparked. My night’s never looked more promising.

I wake up blurry-eyed. My black bra dangles from the headboard, and my tiny panties hang from the Jane Austen collection in my bookcase. We crashed at my apartment after our night of wild lovemaking. I blink, adjusting my eyes and my mind. The depth of our passion for each other is startling in the morning light.

I peel myself off Max and look for my pillow. It’s suspended between my mattress and the wall, inches from the floor.
Holy hell.
We didn’t even drink that much last night. Why is the bed pulled away from the headboard? Max is twisted up in my sheets, and I remember our night of lovemaking. If epic sex were an Olympic event, Max would have won a gold medal for sure.

I shimmy off the bed and put on my silk robe before heading to the kitchen to start the coffee. While it brews, I splash cool water on my face, brush my teeth, and try to tame my wild nest of hair.

Before I head back to the bedroom, I rummage through the catchall drawer for an old memento from a kids’ party I attended.
Bingo!
I rework its shiny surface with a Sharpie and carry it and our coffee back to the bedroom.

I sit on the edge of the bed and watch him slowly stir to the smell of freshly brewed java. He smiles before he opens his eyes. Oh, but when those brilliant blue gray eyes open, they’re something to behold.

“Good morning, handsome. Your coffee is on the nightstand.”

“You’re too good to me, Angel. Thanks.” As he slowly sits up, he looks down at the foreign object around his neck. With a puzzled look, he runs his fingers along the red, white and blue striped ribbon and lifts it up to examine the fake gold medallion.

“What’s this?” He reads aloud, “Maxfield Caswell, USA, Gold Medal Winner.”

I give him a playful thumbs up. “You won the gold medal last night.”

He grins. “Well, it was a team effort. Where’s yours?”

“We can share. But you get it first, since you led us to victory.”

I’m tempted to take a picture because of the delectable way he looks as he sips his coffee. Wild hair, naked except for the sheet gathered around his waist, and the silly gold medal dangling from his chest. He’s never looked happier.

The best part is, he wears that damn thing all day long.

In the early afternoon, we curl up together on the couch. I’m doing some Internet research on my laptop for a new project Nick has given me, and Max is checking his emails on his iPhone when the front door bursts open. Riley and Dylan tumble in, laughing, and drop their luggage on the floor.

“Come here, my crazy girl,” Dylan says, and Riley fall into his arms. A moment later, they’re kissing passionately, and it’s obvious they haven’t see us here.

“Hi guys,” I finally call out, for fear they’re going to start doing the wild thing in front of us. Vivid memories of the dining room table episode are still fresh in my mind.

Stunned, they pull apart and turn toward us.

“Oh, hi…sorry. I didn’t know you guys were here. I didn’t see your car out front,” Riley says with a gasp.

“Blinded by love,” Max grumbles under his breath.

“How’s the wine country?”

“Perfect,” Dylan replies, pulling Riley closer.

“Yeah, perfect,” she repeats, smiling.

There’s an uncomfortable moment where none of us says or does anything until Riley tucks her hair behind her ear. Her hand sparkles, and my breath catches when I realize that she’s wearing a diamond ring.

“Riley, what’s that on your hand? Is there something you want to tell us?” I smile from ear to ear.

Riley hesitates. I know my girl. She doesn’t want to flaunt her big news, when Max and I are trying to balance on a high wire and are perilously close to falling. Before all my drama, Riley would have called me with the news right after it happened, but now she’s hesitant.

She finally holds her hand out. “Yeah, Dylan gave it to me.”

“You’re engaged?” Max asks.

I hear the pain in his voice, and I only hope they can’t. I deflect his anguish by jumping up and giving them both a big hug.

“That is so exciting, guys…the best news! I’m so happy for you.”

They’re both glowing and they smile warmly. Riley shows me her ring and I swoon. It’s so beautiful.

Meanwhile, Max has regained his composure and he joins us, hugging them both as well.

“You two work fast,” he says.

“Yeah, well, I know what I want, so there was no point in waiting any longer.” Dylan sighs as he takes Riley back into his arms.

“You’ve always been wise, Dylan. Hold onto her and never let her go.”

Riley and I exchange looks. I can see her pain for us in her expression, but it can’t overshadow her joy, nor should it. I decide to give them some time alone.

“Hey, Max, let’s go take that walk we were talking about and give the
fiancée
and her
fiancé
time to settle back home.”

Before we leave, I ask Riley and Dylan to pick a night when we can all go out and celebrate. I don’t want any of my stuff to get in the way of her having a wonderful engagement. She deserves all the happiness coming her way.

We’re silent as I drive us to Hollywood Hills and park at the base of Lake Hollywood Reservoir, which looks like a little lake in a country setting with towering pine trees shading the paved path. It’s hard to believe we’re only minutes away from Hollywood Boulevard. We get out of the car and slowly walk along the winding trail that runs alongside the water, as joggers and cyclists whiz past us.

I’m finally ready to face Max and hear how he feels.

“About Riley and Dylan being engaged…I know that was painful, Max. I’m glad you came around and were happy for them.”