The muscles in his jaw ticked, and the smug smile that was once there had now disappeared. He pursed his lips, and I could tell I was making him uncomfortable. “Maybe it’s no one’s business who my family and friends are,” he countered.
Having no intention of backing down, I smiled triumphantly. “Then you’re obviously closed off. If you walk into my place you’ll see pictures of everyone I love. I’m not ashamed to admit I love the people in my life. I’m proud of where I come from and I show it with pride.”
“You don’t know me, Bristol.”
“You’re right, I don’t, but it’s not like you’re going to tell me anyway.” He started to speak, but I held up my hand. “And by going with all black, I can only imagine your bedroom is the same way. It’s clear you possess the art of seduction and how to come across as mysterious and domineering. That’s not exactly my style. If you want me to help you, I can, but I don’t want to waste my time.”
It was bold to say it, but I wasn’t going to be made a fool of. I didn’t want to be his plaything. This time he stood, his expression bordering on the line between anger and outright awe. “I want your help, Bristol. Just tell me what you think we should do and I’ll do it.”
I shook my head. “You’re not going to like my suggestions.” If I had my way, I’d put pictures up on the wall and some small, potted trees in the foyer to brighten it up and make it more inviting. There were so many things I’d do to liven up the room.
Sighing, he stood up and glanced around. “I tell you what,” he said, meeting my gaze, “decorate this room to your liking. I don’t care how much it costs—just do it the way you want.”
Was he serious? My style was obviously different from his. “We’re two different people, Jack.”
“I don’t care if we’re different. You have a talent for making things shine and I want your expertise. Once we’re done with the downstairs, we can move upstairs.”
“I’d still need some input from you, though,” I insisted. “We don’t want your house in just my style. We need something that represents you.”
Pursing his lips, he concentrated for a second before his eyes brightened. “I have just the thing. Be right back.” He rushed off upstairs and then hurried back down with a large, black portfolio. “Come here,” he said, taking a seat on the couch. He patted the cushion and I sat down next to him.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Remember when I told you I’d show you some of my sketches?” I nodded, and he smiled. “Here they are.” He opened the portfolio to the first page and my jaw dropped. It was a sports car design, all sleek with smooth lines; I’d never seen anything like it.
“That is amazing,” I breathed in awe.
His face beamed and for the first time since I’d met him, I could see the passion in his eyes. “Thanks.” He turned to the next page and there was another design, only this one was a motorcycle. “I’m really hoping to see these designs on the street one day.”
“Why haven’t you sold any yet?” I asked.
“I haven’t actually pitched them to anyone.”
I gasped. “Why not? They’re wonderful.”
“It’s not on my priority list right now,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.
If I were as good as him, I’d be showing those to every manufacturer out there. The amount of royalties he’d receive would be phenomenal. “If you don’t sell your designs, where do you get all your money from? It can’t be cheap to have a house like this.”
He froze for a second, and then carefully placed the portfolio on his glass coffee table. “I guess you can say it’s from the family fortune.” It was clear he had some secrets and I was curious to know what they were, but it wasn’t the right time to ask.
“All right, I’ll help you. I have some ideas of what I want to do. I’ll head down to the Garibaldi Gallery tomorrow to see what I can find. They have some new pieces that just came in.”
“Why don’t I go with you?” he suggested with a smile. My heart fluttered, excitement bubbling in my chest. I wanted to see him again, but there was a part of me that knew I’d be playing with fire.
I cleared my throat. “Are you sure?”
He turned his body to me, his knee rubbing against my thigh. “As much as you’d like to think I’m closed off and degenerate, I do enjoy art. You saw my sketches.”
A snicker escaped my lips. “I never said you were a degenerate.” I laughed. “What time would you like to go?”
“Around seven? You could eat dinner with me here around six and then we can go together.”
I opened my mouth to speak and then shut it; he’d caught me off guard. “As a date or strictly professional?” I questioned. What the hell was I doing? This guy was going to break my heart; I could feel it. Yet there was something about him that drew me to him. He looked at me as if he couldn’t get enough and I drank it in. I’d never had anyone look at me like that.
“I’ll leave that up to you. I’m not a dating type of guy, but I want to prove to you I’m not closed off.”
“And how do you plan on doing that? One date isn’t going to be enough.”
My breath hitched when he glanced down at my lips. “Then I guess we’ll just have to have more.”
“Is that what you tell the others?” I said in all seriousness. My mind drifted back to the grocery list on the counter, clearly written in another female’s handwriting. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one around.
He bit his lip and smiled, but I didn’t find the situation funny. I’d been cheated on before and I wasn’t about to let it happen again. “There are no others, Bristol. I’m not interested in anyone other than you.”
“What about that list in the kitchen? It was clearly written by someone other than you. If you’re trying to hide a wife or a girlfriend, I don’t want any part in it. I’m not a home wrecker.”
He burst out laughing. “I knew that was jealousy I saw on your face. I thought it was hot.”