Part 3 (1/2)

”It was interesting. They made me read the intro to the book. It brought up a lot of stuff.”

”Didn't they like it?”

I shrug. ”The intro is pretty wild, and there were mixed reviews. But then they asked if I had feelings for Max.”

Riley sits up a little straighter. ”Oh, thooose feelings. I can imagine.”

”And all it did was stir things up again-the anger, the pa.s.sion, the admiration, the disgust, the want.”

”Quite a combination of emotions, my friend.”

”Yes, and now he's gone from my life, maybe just for now...or maybe forever. I may never get this stuff sorted out.” I mope into the kitchen and pour a gla.s.s of wine for the two of us.

I hand Riley her gla.s.s and ask, ”How are things with Dylan?”

She grins. ”He's so great. Things are going really well. By the way, we were wondering if you'd be our special guest at the big fund-raiser his parents throw every year for the Children's Hospital. It's two weeks from Sat.u.r.day at their estate in San Marino.”

”I remember you guys talking about that. It sounds amazing. I'd love to come, thank you.”

”Dylan will pick us up at six. Did I mention it's formal?” She gives me a wide-eyed look and I now foresee shopping in my future.

I get up to find the leftovers for dinner.

”Did you go shopping today?” Riley points to the black bag next to my purse.

”No, that's a gift from Jonathan. I haven't opened it yet, but it's from La Perla.”

Riley's eyes open wide. ”Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!”

I bring it over to the couch and gently lift the lid off the box. I part the tissue and lift out a pale pink satin chemise gown that slides between my fingers like soft b.u.t.ter. It's floor-length and cut to gently hug the body. There are very thin straps, and the fabric is cut wide at the bottom around the legs. It looks very 1940s Greta Garbo.

Riley fingers the satin and moans. ”Is this for a special occasion?” she asks, wonder in her eyes.

”He's taking me to Santa Barbara this weekend. He said he wanted to take me somewhere special.”

Riley's brow furrows. ”Really? I didn't think you were that into him. Isn't he a lot older than you?”

I put the lingerie back in the box and set it on the coffee table. ”He is, but he's still s.e.xy. He's handsome for sure, but what attracts me is how smart he is, and that he treats me like I'm someone special. I've never been adored like this.”

Riley's eyes narrow as she studies me. Is she trying to figure out what Jonathan really means to me? It's hard to explain when I'm not completely sure myself.

”Are you falling in love with him? I'm not sensing this is the same kind of all-consuming emotion you had with Max.”

”No, but look how that worked out. Maybe deeper feelings, like love, will come in time.”

Riley doesn't look convinced. ”I think you're selling yourself short, Ava.”

”Well, if anything, after this weekend I should have a pretty good idea where things stand.”

I focus on work the next couple of days, so that my apprehension for the Santa Barbara trip doesn't overtake me. By Sat.u.r.day morning I'm still nervous, but I'm looking forward to getting away. Jonathan arrives at ten sharp, wearing pressed jeans, a navy sweater with the sleeves pushed up, and a huge smile on his face. He takes me in his arms for a hug, and then I invite him in to meet Riley while I gather my things.

He's friendly with Riley, and I can tell she's impressed with him because of the effort she puts into making conversation with him. He's certainly cla.s.sier than anyone she's ever seen me date. We say our good-byes, and he takes the overnight bag out of my hand before we head downstairs to his BMW. He opens the sunroof and turns on the stereo as we pull onto the road.

He gives me a sideways glance. ”So, did you bring your gift from our lunch?”

”Yes. It's so beautiful, Jonathan.”

He flashes a s.e.xy smile as his eyes darken. ”I can't wait to see you in it.”

”I can't wait to show you,” I wink at him with a sly smile. ”How did you know my size?”

”I pay more attention to you than you realize.”

”Really, and when did this start?”

”From the moment I met you.” He picks up my hand and presses it to his lips. His kiss is gentle, but I can feel the longing behind it.

I wonder if he's like this with every woman he dates. We don't have any mutual friends to help shed light on his past. So for now, I get to imagine that I'm the single focus of his adoration.

Our conversation is easy and the drive goes quickly. It's eleven fifteen when we drive into Montecito. Jonathan takes a few minutes to drive into the hills, so I can see the ambience of the area with the sprawling Mediterranean homes surrounded by towering eucalyptus and oak trees. Most streets have no sidewalks, just property with stables and rambling paths along the local creek.

”It's so beautiful here,” I say with a soft gaze, imagining what it must be like to live here.

He smiles. ”I'm glad you like it. It's one of my favorite places.”

Jonathan wants to show me several galleries before we stop for lunch. We park on Coast Village Road and enter the Easton Gallery. Jonathan knows the owner, and he introduces me before we take in the art. The focus of this gallery appears to be locally inspired landscapes, and although that isn't my favorite genre, there's some truly beautiful work on the walls. They talk business for a few minutes while I study the work.

Next, we visit the Dashman Gallery, which features abstract expressionism. The main exhibit showcases an artist who is strongly influenced by Georgia O'Keefe. The paintings have light colors blending and weaving together in a sensual way. The back of the gallery highlights another artist whose works, with their angry dark expression, stand in contrast to the main exhibit. The wide dripping strokes of black cutting across the canvas remind me of my name scrawled across Max's paintings. I push the image out of my mind and return to paintings with s.e.xy flowers and swirls of color.

We have lunch on the outside patio at Cava, ordering roasted tortilla soup, an a.s.sortment of tapas, and mojitos. The sun's burning through the typical Santa Barbara overcast, and I feel the benefits of getting out of the city.

Jonathan looks particularly relaxed, and he holds my hand through much of the meal. I wonder if he considers me his girlfriend, but I shake off that idea. We haven't even slept together, although that will certainly change before the day ends.

The mojito buzz loosens me up nicely, and for a moment, I allow myself to imagine what he'll be like in bed. I want to see this cool, contained man completely undone.

”So, what else are you planning to show me after lunch?” I ask, as I wrap my lips low around my straw and slowly slide up, taking a long sip of my drink.

He watches me with dark eyes and clears his throat. ”The hotel.”

I give him a sly, sideways glance. ”Is there a gallery at the hotel?”

I feel his hand rest on my knee, his thumb gently skimming the bare skin of my inner thigh. He leans closer to me so only I will hear his husky voice. ”The only art you'll be looking at Ava, is the work hanging over our bed.”

I wrap my hand around my neck as I feel the flush move up my chest towards my face. ”Is that so?” I squirm, as his fingers trail higher.

”Hmmm. Actually with what I have planned for you, the art in our bedroom is the last thing you'll be thinking about.”

Jonathan gestures to the waiter as I try to compose myself. I sure hope the hotel is close by.

I'm impressed when we pull up to the Biltmore. Jonathan wasn't kidding when he said he wanted to take me somewhere special. Just before the valet reaches our car, he turns and gives me a seductive smile and gently skims his fingers up my arm. I s.h.i.+ver with antic.i.p.ation.