Beth Kerry [Because You Are M Because You Tempt Me (epub)

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.She gave him a wary sideways glance as they began to walk again.His dark hair ruffling in the wind seemed familiar to her somehow.She blinked and the sense of déjà vu vanished.“Are you telling me that I’m supposed to work from your apartment?”“It’s very large,” he said dryly.“You won’t have to see me at all, if you prefer.”Francesca stared at her painted toenails, hiding her expression from him.She didn’t want him to suspect that unwelcome images had popped into her mind’s eye at his statement; visions of Ian walking from the shower, his naked body still gleaming with moisture, a thin towel draped on his lean hips the only thing separating herself from a vision of total male glory.“It’s a little unorthodox,” she said.“I’m a lot unorthodox,” he said briskly.“You’ll understand when you see the view.”He lived at 340 East Archer, a classic 1920s Italian Renaissance building that she’d admired since studying it in one of her classes.It suited him, somehow, the elegant, brooding, dark brick tower.She wasn’t entirely surprised when he told her his residence encompassed the entire top two floors.The door of his private elevator slid open without a sound, and he extended his hand in an invitation to walk before him.She entered a magical place.The luxury of the fabrics and furniture were obvious, but despite the richness, the entryway managed to convey a welcome—an austere welcome, perhaps, but a welcome nonetheless.She caught a quick glimpse of herself in an antique mirror.Her long reddish blonde hair was hopelessly windblown, and her cheeks were stained pink.She’d like to think the color was from the wind but worried the effect came from being with Ian Noble.Then she noticed the artwork, and she forgot everything else.She wandered down a wide hallway that was also a gallery, her mouth hanging open as she stared at painting after painting, some of them new to her, some of them masterworks that sent a jolt of exhilaration through her to see firsthand.She paused next to a miniature sculpture set on a column, a very fine replica of a renowned piece of ancient Greek art.“I’ve always loved Aphrodite of Argos,” she murmured, her gaze detailing the exquisite facial features and the graceful twist of the naked torso miraculously carved into hard alabaster.“Have you?” he asked, sounding intent.She nodded, overwhelmed by wonder, and continued walking.“I just acquired that one several months ago.It wasn’t easy to get,” he said, starting her out of her ecstatic amazement.“I adore Sorenburg,” she said, referring to the artist who had created the painting before which they stood.She turned to look at him, suddenly realizing that several minutes had passed and that she’d wandered like a sleepwalker deeper into the hushed depths of his condominium without invitation, and that he’d allowed her intrusion without comment.She now stood in a parlor of sorts decorated with decadently rich fabrics of yellow, pale blue, and dark brown.“I know.You mentioned it in your personal statement in the application for the contest.”“I can’t believe you like expressionism.”“Why can’t you believe it?” he asked, his low voice making her ears prickle and goose bumps rise along her neck.She glanced up at him.The painting she referred to was hung above a deep cushioned velvet couch.He stood closer than she’d realized, so lost had she become in wonderment and pleasure.“Because.you picked my painting,” she said weakly.Her gaze skimmed over his body.She swallowed thickly.He’d unbuttoned his overcoat.A clean, spicy smell of soap filtered into her nose.A heavy, hot pressure settled in her sex.“You seem to like.order so much,” she tried to explain, her voice just above a whisper.“You’re right,” he said.A shadow seemed to come over his bold features.“I do abhor sloppiness and disorder.But Sorenburg isn’t about that.” He glanced at the painting.“It’s about making meaning from chaos.Wouldn’t you agree?”Her mouth hung open as she stared at his profile.She’d never heard Sorenburg’s work described so succinctly.“Yes, I would,” she said slowly.He gave her a small smile.His full lips had to be his most compelling feature, aside from his eyes.And his firm chin.And his incredible body—“Do my ears deceive me,” he murmured, “Or is that a note of respect I hear in your tone, Francesca?”She turned to stare sightlessly at the Sorenburg.Her breath burned in her lungs.“You deserve respect in this.You have impeccable taste in art.”“Thank you.I happen to agree.”She risked a sideways glance.He was staring at her with those dark-angel eyes.“Let me take your jacket,” he said, extending his hands.“No.” Her cheeks heated when she heard how abrupt she’d sounded.Self-consciousness slammed into her haze of enthrallment.His hands remained extended.“I will take it.”She opened her mouth to rebuke him but paused when she noticed his hooded gaze and slightly raised eyebrows.“The woman wears the clothes, Francesca.Not the other way around.That’s the first lesson I’ll teach you.”She gave him a fake glance of exasperation and shrugged out of her jean jacket.The air felt cool next to her bare shoulders.Ian’s gaze felt warm.She straightened her spine.“You say that like you plan on teaching me more lessons,” she muttered, handing him the jacket.“Perhaps I do.Follow me.”He hung up her coat, then led her down the gallerylike hallway before turning down a narrower one that was dimly lit with brass sconces.He opened one of many tall doorways, and Francesca stepped into the room.She expected to see yet another room filled with wonders, but instead entered a large, narrow space that ran the length of a row of floor-to-ceiling windows.He didn’t turn on the light.He didn’t need to.The room was illuminated by the skyscrapers and the reflective lights of them in the black river.She walked to the windows without speaking.He came to stand next to her.“They’re alive, the buildings.some more than others,” she said in a hushed voice after a moment.She gave him a rueful glance and was awarded with a smile.Embarrassment flooded her.“I mean, they seem like it.I’ve always thought so.Each one of them has a soul.At night, especially.I can feel it.”“I know you can.That’s why I chose your painting.”“Not because of perfectly straight lines and precise reproductions?” she asked shakily.“No.Not because of that.”His expression went flat when she smiled.Unexpected pleasure filled her.He did understand her art after all.And.she’d given him what he wanted.She stared at the magnificent view.“I understand what you meant,” she said, her voice vibrating with excitement.“I haven’t taken any architecture classes now for a year and a half, and I’ve been so busy with my art classes I haven’t kept up with journals, or I would have known.Still.shame on me for not seeing it until now,” she said, referring to the two most prominent buildings that lined the black-and-gold-speckled shimmering river.She shook her head in wonderment.“You made Noble Enterprises a modern, streamlined version of a Chicago architecture classic.It’s like a contemporary version of the Sandusky.Brilliant,” she said, referring to the echo that the Noble Enterprises building made of the Sandusky Building, a Gothic masterpiece.Noble Enterprises was just like Ian—a bold, strong-lined, elegant, and modern version of some Gothic ancestor.She smiled at the thought.“Most people don’t see the effect until I show them this view,” he said.“It’s genius, Ian,” she said feelingly.She gave him a questioning glance, noticing the glints in his eyes caused by the lights from the skyscrapers [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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