chapter Twelve
She had fun at the ball, after that.
Their dinner table included Abby and her date, who knew nothing about art, but at least knew nothing about banking, either. Steel entertained everyone with his wry wit, and Abby kept giving her looks that meant they’d need to dish soon.
After dinner Steel swept her onto the dance floor—and kept her there. He left her breathless, spinning through song after song with surprisingly effortless style. For the first time she understood why churches wanted to forbid dancing. Moving with him to music felt so much like sex that she found herself forgetting they were surrounded by other couples and that she shouldn’t be contemplating getting her hands on his skin.
“Is there anything you don’t do well?” The slow dance let her wrap her arms around his neck and toy with the little curls at the base of his neck. Already a shade of beard showed on his jaw.
He pretended to think. “Nope.” And laughed when she tugged the curls. Then he looked thoughtful. “You’ve already seen it—my bad side. When I push too hard and don’t think and things just kind of…” He shrugged restlessly. “Things get away from me. But you help with that.”
“I do?”
“Yes. You smooth all those sharp edges and rough corners. Just when I’m likely to melt it all down, you come in like a cool breeze.”
A swell of love warmed her, filling the empty spaces in her heart.
“Also, I can make a soufflé.”
“A soufflé? Really?”
“I swear they gave us classes in everything—anything to keep us occupied and not thinking up ways to get into trouble.” He rolled his eyes. “Most useless skill ever and I never said it tastes any good. I guess they thought it would teach us patience.”
She laid her cheek on his lapel, keenly aware of the nipple ring hidden beneath. “I’ll never catch up with such an eclectic education.”
Dipping his head to whisper in her ear, he ran his tongue along the sensitive shell. “You seem to be a fast learner to me. I’m always happy to offer lessons—in anything that catches your fancy.”
She shivered, though his insinuation made the heat rise, and tipped her head back to look up at him. “This time it’s you who has to sit still in the limo.”
His hands flexed around her back, pulling her close so she could feel his erection. “Does that mean you’re ready to blow this place?”
“Yes.” She licked her lips. “And something else too.”
Steel nearly dragged her out of there, barely letting her say her goodbyes. Turned out tormenting him in the limo was even more fun than dancing.
* * *
A month later, Althea reopened the gallery and reintroduced herself to the world.
The room was packed with far from the usual gallery crowd. Hipsters in their studied black contrasted nicely with the jewel-tone walls. College students mingled with a number of European tourists. More than one society matron had given her the hairy eyeball and departed in a huff. And quite a few of the ladies who lunch had looked shocked, giggled, and then took another turn to get a better look at Steel’s seductive art. She’d also sold three pieces and taken five inquiries for commissions.
Steel stood across the room amidst a pack of giddy young women. No surprise there. He was talking about the satyr, rampant under the gleaming lights, sex incarnate. They were enraptured. He’d wanted to add more, to display images of that sculpture’s prurient uses, but she’d reined him back. Dancing on the edge of imagination.
Her father had “other business” to attend to, but Bootsie bustled about, flushed with her daughter’s triumph, in her element berating the caterers.
Already she’d found—or had recommended to her—several other artists to show. All raw, visceral and shouting of life.
Nothing of hers, yet. But maybe soon.
“Well, look at you.” Abby pressed a flute of champagne into her hand and slid an arm around her waist. “Owner of the hottest gallery in town and smiling like the cat who ate the canary.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a mixed metaphor.” Althea laughed.
Abby clinked her own flute against Althea’s. “Okay, the cat who ate the hottie artist—or who’s planning to later.”
“Now that’s entirely possible.” Althea leaned her head against Abby’s dark curls and surveyed the crowd. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“I can’t believe that’s you in the paintings in the other room. Who knew you have such great tits?”
Althea groaned, elbowing her friend. “Don’t make it worse.”
“Where’s Cheri? Shouldn’t she be screwing around somewhere?”
“She decided to seek greener pastures.” Althea sipped her champagne. “After I told her I’d only pay her for the hours she was actually here.”
Abby barked out a laugh, eyes sparkling. “Now that is the second best business decision you’ve made lately.”
“And the first?”
“Following your passion. I stand in awe, Thea, honey. This, all of this, is amazing. And you’re painting again, I just—” Abby’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m just so happy for you.”
“Me too.” Althea raised her glass to Steel, who caught her eye with a smoldering look and blew a kiss in her direction. “I’m happy for me.”
* * * * *