Part 1 (2/2)
”I meant men who look like you.” She paused and gestured toward the painting on the wall behind them. ”X Men.”
His hazel gaze flickered, unreadable. ”Is that what you think?”
The heat in her cheeks deepened. ”Haven't you ever looked in a mirror?”
”Haven't you?”
Sarah gave a short, sharp laugh. ”I know what I look like.”
”So do I. You look like someone I'd like to get to know.”
Her laugh was genuine this time, surprised out of her.
”You should write a book. A thousand and one cheesy pick up lines.”
”Come for coffee with me, and I'll give you a cut of the royalties.”
He was pursuing her. Sarah let her gaze slide over his perfect features,
imagining those full lips on hers. A man like that would probably be too sure of himself in bed. Too certain he knew how to push her b.u.t.tons. Too c.o.c.ky, too arrogant ... but oh, so easy on the eyes. And it had been a long, long time since she'd had any man's hands on her...
She stood straighter and made her voice more aloof. ”I told you I don't drink coffee.”
”Tea then.”
Sarah sighed. ”Why are you doing this? Why me?”
”Why not you?”
Sarah waved her hand at the crowd in the gallery. ”This room is filled with models, actresses, and other biologically blessed females. Why not ask one of them? Why me?”
”None of those other biologically blessed women, as you call them, are standing in a corner looking interesting. They're all swarming around each other, trying to sound interesting ... and failing.”
She knew the lingo. Interesting meant the same as ”she has a nice personality.”
William flashed in her mind again, and heat turned to ice. She wasn't interested in being any man's pity f.u.c.k. She turned to move away. ”I don't think so.”
Alex caught her elbow. An electric tingle went all the way up her arm, a sensation so fierce it made her actually stumble. He reached out with his other hand and kept her from falling, like something out of some corny romantic comedy.
Her breath caught in her throat. His hands, each large enough to wrap the fingers entirely around her upper arms, seared imprints on her bare skin. The scent of him, some cologne she couldn't name, tantalized her nostrils. The
sc.r.a.pe of her garters on soft flesh too long neglected made her bite her lip, and she spoke before she could stop herself. ”All right. Tea then.”
Alex jumped up and punched the air. ”Woo-hoo! She said yes!”
Embarra.s.sed, Sarah looked around to see if anyone had noticed his antics. As he had already pointed out, however, everyone in the room was competing with someone else to sound more profound, witty, or esoteric. n.o.body was looking into the corner she shared with him.
”Don't.” She had to laugh. ”Do you do everything with this much enthusiasm?”
”Everything.”
His answer sent another flash of heat through her. Sarah could just imagine all the things Alex Caine did with enthusiasm. ”Let me just get my coat.”
”I'll get it for you. I've got to get mine, too.”
She needed a few minutes to compose herself. ”No, really, I can get it--”
Alex held up his hand to silence her. ”Sarah, I'm not trying to set back women's rights here or anything. I'd just like to get your coat for you. If it will make you feel better, you can get mine for me.”
He had made her laugh again, which was actually more of an accomplishment than making her sigh. It seemed the pretty face had something of a sharp wit behind it. She handed him her claim ticket.
”It's a mustard-colored field coat with a plaid scarf.”
She watched him wend his way through the crowd with far more grace than such a large man should have. He didn't stop to ogle the half-naked society belle who had staked herself out in front of one of Rivka's larger works, with champagne in hand and a gaggle of sycophants surrounding her. Though the woman clearly saw him, even angling her body to watch him pa.s.s, Alex didn't even look her way. Sarah was impressed despite herself.
”What a tramp.” Rivka's familiar husky voice sounded just beside Sarah's ear.
”She seems to be enjoying the show,” Sarah noted dryly, returning her sister's hug.
Rivka waved one bangled arm. ”So? She hasn't bought anything from me, and she sure could afford to. She's just here to get her picture in the paper, Sarai. But how do you like the show?”
”It's wonderful, as usual.” She did love her sister's art. It was bold and sa.s.sy, sometimes s.e.xy or sentimental, just like her sister.
Rivka's skin-tight, black sheath dress dipped down to the dimples of her back and was covered by a sheer, flowing overdress of purple gauze. On her feet were thigh-high, red leather boots with heels tall enough to bring Rivka almost, but not quite, up to Sarah's five feet, six inches. A multi-colored set of bangles on one arm was offset by the simplicity of a single gold chain around her neck.
Rivka saw her sister's look and shook her hips. ”You like?”
”It looks like something Mick picked out.”
”Are you kidding?” Rivka's hoa.r.s.e, throaty laughter made both men and women turn their heads. ”Mick wanted me to ditch the black dress and come in just the purple thing.”
And she'd look great in that, too, Sarah thought, just a trifle jealously. They both shared the same dark chocolate-colored hair and the same startling blue eyes. They even had the same thick, untamed brows. So why did it all come together on Rivka's face looking like a million bucks, while the face Sarah saw in the mirror barely registered a dollar and change?
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