At least that’s what I tell myself as the pilot radios our approach to the small tower up ahead. Over the vibration in the cockpit, he informs us we’ll be on the ground in ten minutes.
With a nod, Rush leans back in his seat next to me and taps out a quick text to someone. No matter how hard I try to ignore him, my gaze follows the long, muscular lines of his body, the elegant strength of his hands and fingers.
The calm confidence that surrounds him, whether in motion or at rest, is starting to feel familiar to me now. His air of total control in any situation had felt abrasive when we met, but it also soothes me somehow, even though he’s the last person I should look to for reassurance.
We land as softly as we took off, the helicopter parking on a small target not far from the gray cedar shakes-sided terminal building at East Hampton’s airport. Rush guides me off the aircraft, the heat of his palm hovering at the small of my back until we clear the slowing rotors.
The salty summer breeze riffles my long ponytail and sends the hem of my loose dress dancing around my bare calves as we walk toward the terminal. He opens the door for me as we step inside, smoothly navigating us past the handful of attendants and locals who greet him like an old friend, not the rich and famous artist he is.
We head straight through to the entrance on the other side, where taxis and ride-shares jockey for positions at the curb. Rush leads me to one of the half-dozen idling vehicles.
“This one’s us,” he says, gesturing to a beige Toyota sedan with a decal in the window.
“You called an Uber?”
He glances back me, grinning. “Were you expecting a limo?”
It’s the first time I’ve seen such a relaxed and purely natural expression on his face. With his thick, tawny-brown hair brushing his broad shoulders and his handsome face lit up with a boyish smirk, it’s hard to reconcile this side of him with the ruthless, intimidating man who has bought and demanded my presence here today. The sight of him like this all but stops me in my tracks.
“Don’t look so shocked,” he says when I slow behind him. “My place is only ten minutes away. Let’s get out of here.”
His place, as it turns out, is a large cedar-shakes beach house and three-car attached garage situated on what appears to be a two-acre lot. The weathered gray shingles and creamy white trim are set off by pops of colorful hydrangea bushes, wild roses, and thick, green hedges.
Gravel and sand crunch under the vehicle’s tires as we turn off the road onto the short driveway out front. The whole property is classic and laid-back, a far cry from the staid, Old-Money glamour of Rush’s mansion in the city.
I slide out of the parked car’s backseat while Rush speaks briefly with the driver. Fresh, salty air engulfs me, bringing with it the scent of blooming flowers and the low, rhythmic roar of the waves rolling against the beach on the other side of the property.
No wonder Rush’s demeanor seemed to change the moment we landed at their airport. Even my own nerves smooth out as I drift toward the house and its inviting front porch and huge veranda.
Eyes closed, I pause and inhale deeply, allowing myself a moment to savor the calm. Having grown up poor in the city before being saddled with multiple jobs just to make ends meet, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been this close to fresh ocean air. And I’ve never breathed it from in front of a multi-million-dollar beach house in the Hamptons.
The car door shuts in the distance behind me, followed by the whine of the Toyota’s engine as the driver leaves the property.
I sense Jared Rush’s approach even before I feel the deep rumble of his voice at my back. “Welcome to my studio, Ms. Laurent. Ready to get started?”
He moves beside me and I glance at him, unsure how to answer. One part of me simply wants to be done with our arrangement, while another is desperate for it never to begin.
This man has already put an indelible stamp on my life. Whether I follow him inside or not, I know my life can never be the same. There will always be the timebeforeI met Jared Rush, and the timeafter.
A challenge glints in Rush’s smoky brown eyes as he waits for my response.
Does he think after the way he acted with me yesterday I won’t have the nerve to see this contract through? I’d gotten the sense he’d been trying to test my limits, possibly scare me off. If anything, his behavior has only made me more resolved to prove to him that he can’t intimidate me.
How far will he go to prove otherwise?
I’m not sure I’m ready to find out.
But then I think of my mom and Katie, of how this opportunity will make life better for both of them—for all three of us. I think of Daniel, too, despite how conflicted those thoughts have become these past few days.
I meet Rush’s piercing gaze and hold it, my chin rising a notch. “Lead the way.”
A smile tugs at the sculpted curve of his lips. “All right, then. Come on.”
13
MELANIE
I follow him onto the covered porch as he unlocks the door and gestures for me to step inside ahead of him.
