“Would you look at him!” Fine lines creased Kataya’s brow. “Now, why do I feel like I’ve said this before? But Jesus, the manisbeautiful.”
Eve whipped around, her heart racing. Déjà vu hit her hard.
So tall, he stood heads above everyone there. Black leathers covered his muscled legs and were teamed with a dark dress shirt and a long, black coat. His pale hair was tied back, revealing the stark lines of a face she never thought she’d see again.
In the bright lights of the gallery, he was even more stunning.
“He could just stand there and pretend to be a statue of a Greek god or something equally divine,” Brenna said on a dreamy sigh, checking him out. “Definitely mandelicious.”
“Oh, yeah,” Kataya agreed. Then she scowled. “That’s not even a word.”
“But got you to agree with me,” Brenna snickered. “Bet he has gorgeous sapphire eyes to match the rest of him.”
Midnight blue,Eve mentally corrected, even as her mind struggled to accept him being here, in the gallery of all places. Memories of her dreams, of the cool metal blade he’d trailed down her belly, swamped her. Arousal flared to life. Shit!
“I need the, er, bathroom,” she told her friends. She didn’t wait to hear their response. Shaken by her strong feelings, Eve slipped out into the passage, but with women going into the restroom, she headed for Eric’s empty office at the back instead. The single light from the passage cast a soft glow into the darkened room.
Eve set her glass down, pulled off her sticky gloves and dropped them on the desk, then rubbed a shaky hand over her fluttering stomach.I’m fine—I’m fine.She inhaled deeply, picking up the small sample sculpture of a vase she’d done for Eric, and let the humming of the metal soothe her…
Her neck prickled. Eve stilled, a dart of wariness creeping up her spine.
She wasn’t alone.
Swinging around, she almost pitched on her heels. Her heart crashed against her ribs as her gaze fastened on the tall, shadowy figure filling the doorway, blocking her only way of escape.
Chapter 4
The lights flickered on in the office, Eve blinked at the sudden brightness. And fear took on a different heartbeat when she looked into unforgettable, midnight blue eyes.
He’d followed her from the gallery?
She eyed him warily. But he remained at the entrance, as if not to scare her.
The sudden sharp pain in her finger had Eve hastily easing her death-grip on the metal sculpture. Her defense mechanism kicked in. “Are you lost? Or are you here to finish off what you started last night?”
He went motionless at her words.
Oh, yes. She’d obviously lost her ever-loving mind, reminding him ofthat.
“You want the gallery, can’t miss it—” And she couldn’t seem to stop. “Go back through the short corridor on the left—double glass doors leading into this enormous room with paintings. That easy.”
Something dark and dangerous sparked in his narrowed eyes. He prowled closer, crowding her in the small office. Eve had to dig her toes in not to run, mostly because she had nowhere to escape.
He stopped a foot from her, his gaze skimming over her as if searching for something. A tiny crease marred his brow. “You hurt yourself again.”
Eve glanced at her stinging finger and saw the red stain. Ugh, she seemed to make a habit of hurting herself around this man. He reached for her hand. Panicked, she shoved the sculpture at him and backed away in horror.
It was one thing for her friends to see her scars, but for him to see the shattered tissues and burn marks? Nope. Not happening. She balled her fingers into fists. People, she’d found out in painful clarity, didn’t like anything ugly. They either gawked in pity or tried to avoid accidently touching her hands, like her ex-boss had. As if her scars were contagious.
“Eve, let me see.”
His low, accented voice almost melted her resolve to stay detached from that tangible pull of him. Disturbed at the near lapse, she put the desk between them. “It’s nothing—a scratch. How do you know my name?”
Cool, night-sky eyes flickered to the wooden barrier separating them. She doubted it would be much of a defense. He looked quite capable of tossing the desk away.
“It doesn’t take a genius to find out your name with the painting of you on display.” His unexpected curt tone held a cold bite.
Heat crept into her face at the thought that he’d seen her portrait. It was obvious he didn’t like it. She scowled. “What do you want?”
