How To Seduce An Heiress: The Reluctant Heiress / Pride After Her Fall / Project: Runaway Heiress. Lucy Ellis
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her like lightning. “Shall we dance?”
As she stood, he shed his coat and tie, folding them once on the seat of the booth.
Sophia followed him to the small dance floor and stepped into his embrace. Her hand was in his, her other hand on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him through the fine cotton shirt. She enjoyed dancing around the floor, aware of how well they moved together. He was agile, light on his feet.
“I’ve been waiting all evening for this moment,” he said, setting her heart fluttering again. She had never had such an instant and intense reaction to a man. “I’m glad I decided to come tonight. I didn’t expect to see the artist, but I knew I would enjoy looking at your art. Now, the whole world has changed.”
She smiled. “I don’t think it’s been a world-changing night,” she said, though she actually agreed with him. She wasn’t sure things would ever be the same after having met Garrett Cantrell.
“The night isn’t over yet,” he reminded her, obviously flirting.
She slanted him a look. “Perhaps you’ll change my mind.”
“That’s a challenge I’ll gladly take.”
The ballad ended and a faster number began. Garrett released her and she put a little distance between them. The man had sexy moves that set her pulse at a faster pace. She was unable to tear her gaze from his until she forced herself to turn and the spell was broken.
By the time the music finished, she needed to catch her breath.
Garrett took her hand. “Shall we go back to our drinks?”
They returned to the booth. He loosened the top buttons of his shirt. The temperature climbed a notch and her desire revved with it.
Her cell phone chimed. She looked down, reading a brief text from Edgar.
How is your evening with G.C.? Call me when you get home. I promised Mom.
She had to laugh. “I have a text from my friend Edgar. You bought a painting of mine from him.”
“Yes. I remember.”
“He once promised my mom that he would look out for me and he’s been like the proverbial mother hen ever since. He’s checking on when I’ll get home.”
Garrett flashed a breathtakingly handsome smile. “Is he jealous?”
Shaking her head, she laughed. “Definitely not. Edgar always loved my mother. They dated some, but for Mom it was a good friend sort of thing. Then as my interest in art developed, Mom told Edgar. He became a friend and mentor, helping me in so many ways.”
She sent a text back.
Go to bed, Edgar. I’m fine and he’s fun.
“I let him know that I’m okay and we’re having a pleasant time.”
“A pleasant time. I’ll have to try harder if I want to move that into the ‘world-changing’ arena.”
She smiled as she put away her cell phone. “So tell me about yourself,” she said.
“I grew up with the proverbial silver spoon. Well, my dad began to make big bucks when I was about seven years old. Life was easy in some ways.”
“What wasn’t easy?”
“My mom died when I was fifteen. My dad and I were close. I lost him this past summer.”
“Sorry. It hurts. My mom died a couple of years ago.”
“Your dad?”
“I never knew him,” she said, her eyes becoming frosty as she answered him.
“I’m glad you and your mom were close. So how did you get into art?”
“It’s my first love. I went to college, got a degree in accounting, got a good job, moved up. I began to invest my own money and did so well, I finally took over managing my mother’s finances, which was far more than I had. Finance became my field, but art was—and is—my love. We have something else in common—our financial backgrounds.”
“So we do.”
“The difference is, you love it and pursue it. I wanted something else.”
“Sometimes I think about something else, but I’m locked into where I am.”
“What else do you think about doing?” she asked.
“Nothing serious. I’m where I should be, doing what I’ve been trained to do and have a knack for doing.”
“There’s something else you like,” she persisted, tilting her head to study him. “I don’t think it’s art. I’ll bet it’s far removed from the world of property management.”
“Yes, it is. It’s not that big a deal for you to even try to guess. Someday when I retire, I’ll make furniture. I like working with my hands.”
“It’s getting a little scary how alike we are,” she said, noticing how his thick lashes heightened the striking effect of his gray eyes.
“Perhaps it’s an omen indicating we will get along well.”
“Usually, it’s the other way around. Opposites attract.”
“Well, I’ll see where we’re opposite—one thing, you’re living your dream. I won’t leave the business world.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged a broad shoulder. “I was raised to do this. When Dad was alive, I wouldn’t have changed for anything because it would have hurt him terribly. He hasn’t been gone long and I just can’t think about changing when I know how badly he wanted me to do what I’m doing. There are other reasons, too, but that’s the biggest.”
She nodded. “We’re different there, all right. My mom was okay with the change I made. I’m sorry she didn’t live to see the success I’ve been lucky enough to have, especially since she’s the one who told me to chase my dream.”
“Be thankful. I’ve been told the opposite all my life.”
“I am thankful,” she said, wondering about his life as the topic of conversation shifted. As she looked at him, desire smoldered, a steady flame. She knew he would kiss her tonight and she wanted him to.
“So there are no other men in your life?” he asked, tilting his head.
“No, no other men and you’re not exactly in it either since I’ve known you all of a few hours.”
“I’m in it now,” he said in a tone of voice that stirred sparks. “So Mr. Right has not come along. And there’s no one vying for that title.”
“I’m definitely not looking for Mr. Right. The past few years I’ve been incredibly busy and my social life has suffered.”
“I can understand about incredibly busy. And I’ll see what I can do to remedy that a little for both of us.”
“And what about the women in your life? You can’t convince me there are none.”
“There isn’t anyone special, or even anyone really ‘in’ my life at this point. I’m free as a bird, as they say.”
“Workaholic?”
“I’m not arguing that one.”
When her phone chimed again with a text that the gallery was cleaned and closed, she noticed the late hour. “I didn’t know the time. I should go home.”
As they walked back to the gallery, Garrett stopped her. “Why don’t I take you home? I’ll pick you up for breakfast and bring you back to the gallery to get your car.”
“That seems a lot of trouble for you.”
“No trouble at all,” he said, unlocking the door