When the Paradigm team leaves, Petra and Catherine are in high spirits and congratulate me on a job well done. I spend the rest of the afternoon fine tuning the pitch, taking into consideration the questions and recommendations from the client. I make an appointment to tour the Paradigm team facility on Thursday morning.
“And what was that about?” Marsha asks with a grin when she pops into my office. “And before you say nothing, I saw him with his hands all over you.”
I let out a sigh, looking up from my laptop. “He’s just someone I know from back home. I didn’t expect to see him here.”
“You seemed a bit put off.”
“I was. Let’s just say he and I don’t get along.” What an understatement.
“So tell me what happened with that sexy guy from the club the other night.” she waggles her brows, and I can feel the heat creep up my face.
“That good, huh?” she gives me a devilish grin and takes a seat opposite me.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” she laughs.
“We just kissed, that’s it.”
“Girl, we saw the way that man kisses, and that wasn’t just a kiss.”
I bite my lip, unable to hold back a smirk. That much is true. I have never been kissed like that. I try not to notice the muscles that ripple beneath his t-shirts or the way his jeans hug his ass. But damn is it difficult to be in such close proximity with a man that good looking. It doesn’t help that we share an apartment.
“He shouldn’t have done that. He’s my b- ex,” I catch myself before I expose the fact that he’s my bodyguard. I have no idea how long he’s supposed to watch over me, but he’ll have to leave at some point, and when he does, I’ll have the freedom I crave so much. In the meantime, having him around is needless temptation.
“Didn’t look like he wants to be your ex for much longer,” she teases. “Anyway, I’d better get back to work if I want to leave on time today. Jess has a showing at the gallery tonight. Hey, you should come,” she stands.
“I just might, send me the details.” She leaves the room with a wink.
* * *
The art gallery is on the beach front, and the smell of the salty air and the gentle breeze make the setting perfect. Brax leads me with a hand on the small of my back which sends shivers up my spine. I invited him along, willingly this time. He keeps stealing glances at me that make my heart skip a beat. What the hell is wrong with me?
“You look beautiful,” he whispers in my ear as we stand in line, and I smile up at him. He looks pretty damn good, too, in a white button down that is rolled up at the sleeves and outlines his muscles paired with blue jeans. I like this casual Braxton.
“Welcome, you two,” Marsha greets us at the door, a mischievous grin on her face when she spots Brax.
“Ex, huh?” she whispers as she loops her arm in mine, leading us into the gallery where she offers us glasses of champagne. I roll my eyes. It is becoming harder and harder to explain why Braxton’s always with me. Even the obsessive ex excuse is getting old.
“We should tell people we’re dating.” I tell him when we’re out of earshot of Marsha.
“What?” he nearly chokes mid sip.
“I mean as a cover. Otherwise it looks strange. You following me everywhere, hanging around my workplace which, by the way, you need to make look less stalkerish.”
“I thought you told them I was a stalker.” He smirks.
“I did not say that,” I defend myself.
“Sure sounded like it. But yeah, sure. So now that we’re dating, you wouldn’t mind if I did this, right?” He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to his side.
A small gasp leaves my lips, but I quickly recover. “Of course not.”
We walk around the gallery. Jessica is a sculptor and most of her work seems to be an expression of the divine feminine. It’s breathtaking, and I find myself sucked into the world she so meticulously created. Marsha walks around like the proud wife she is, and I wonder, just for a second, what it would be like to be adored like that. To have someone look at me the way those two look at each other.
There were times in my life when I believed I was in love, but those were the childish notions of a girl who hadn’t truly experienced life. Growing up, the only relationship I was exposed to was the toxic one my parents had. Needless to say, I decided I could do without.
We enter a tented area at the rear of the gallery that’s dark, save for the light from the piece that hangs at the back. It’s a small space, and Brax walks behind me. I can sense him so acutely this close, feeling his breath at the back of my neck. We stop at the erotic sculpture, and I’m heady from the lack of light and Brax’s close proximity.
