Natalie turned abruptly back to the artwork.“This is an interesting piece,” she blurted, grasping for neutral ground.
Then she reallylookedat it.The jagged lines, the layered shapes—abstract enough to pass for art, but arranged in a way that unmistakably suggested a woman in the throes of passion.
The low chuckle beside her made her cheeks warm further.He’d noticed.Of course he had.
“I agree,” he murmured, his voice taking on a husky edge.Then he stepped in behind her, his presence wrapping around her like heat.His hands settled lightly on her shoulders, his breath close enough to stir her hair.“I’d definitely put this one in my bedroom.”
Natalie made a small, wordless sound, then deliberately stepped to the next canvas.It was from the same artist, the same abstract shapes—only this time, the angles and shadows formed a man in the exact same act.This one, however, was far more obvious.
Her gaze snagged on the strong lines of the figure, and before she could stop herself, her mind veered down a dangerous path.She wondered if Rylan would look that hot when he—
Her thought slammed to a halt when a hand came into her peripheral vision.Rylan reached around and, with a slow, deliberate motion, closed her open mouth with the tip of his finger.She hadn’t even realized her mouth had fallen open.
Heat rushed to her cheeks.She bit down gently on her lower lip, refusing to meet his eyes, and stepped quickly to the next painting.
A couple this time.Same artist, same style.Lines and shapes that hinted far more than they concealed.It was… impressive, she supposed.But not something she would want for herself.
Not that she wasn’t interested in sex.
Well… she wasn’t.
At least, notat this moment.
Another lie,her mind hissed.And this time, she was only lying to herself.
The truth was, lately she’d beenveryinterested in sex.All the time.And lately, it all seemed to center on Rylan.
She needed to get a grip.This was spiraling out of control.
With a quick, annoyed huff, she crossed to another section of the showroom, and that’s when she saw it—a painting that made her slow to a stop.
Thank goodness, no hidden innuendo this time.No suggestive shapes.Just a glorious, sunlit bouquet.Pale pinks, soft lavenders, and powdery blues spilled across the canvas as sunlight poured in from behind, making the petals look like they were swaying in a warm breeze.
The sight made something inside her unclench.She could picture it in her home office, right above her desk—her own private view of sunshine and flowers, a reminder of beauty on her most stressful days.
She’d seen countless flower paintings before—an entire genre, really—but something about this one pulled at her.It wasalive.It felt like the artist had painted joy itself.
Then she saw the starting price and sucked in a sharp breath.More than her annual salary.
“You like this one,” Rylan said quietly from behind her.Not a question.A statement.
She glanced over her shoulder.“It’s lovely,” she admitted.
“I like it too.”
She gave a quick, skeptical snort.“No, you don’t,” she said, moving on before her brain could linger on the price, sighing at the thought that she’d been born without the kind of wealth that made purchases like that possible.
Her gaze drifted to the far wall—and she stopped in her tracks.“Is that…?”The reverence in her voice surprised even her.
She walked closer, eyes scanning the strokes, the layers of color.Stepping back, she took in the full effect.“This,” she said with an emphatic nod, “is somethingyou’dlike.”
When she turned, her lips curved into a triumphant smile.He was staring at the painting with the same focused hunger she’d felt toward the flowers.His shoulders were tight, his stance subtly forward, as though he was already halfway to claiming it.
In an instant, she could see it in his home—how she’d soften the room’s furniture, place it where morning light would spill over it, the perfect view as he sipped his coffee and read the news.
When she looked back at him, he’d stepped in closer, his eyes glinting with curiosity.“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Why?”she countered, not wanting to risk asking whether he’d buy it.The price tag was nearly four times the flower painting.She had no idea what Rylan’s net worth really was, and she wasn’t about to push him toward something he might not want to spend.
