Seduced In San Diego. Reese Ryan
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walked around the sculpture she’d been assessing for the past few minutes, giving him an excellent view of her face.
Even better.
The woman was beyond fit. Even beyond stunning. Gorgeous, delicate facial features. Warm brown skin that practically glowed. Long, lean limbs.
Just cataloging her many fine attributes sent a shiver down his spine.
And she appeared to be without a companion for the evening. A dilemma he would most happily remedy.
Jordan wandered beside the woman and stared at the sculpture in silence for a moment. He sipped his champagne, then turned to her. “What do you think of it?”
“Me?” She gave him only a cursory glance, then returned her attention to the piece.
“You seemed to be making quite a study of it.” He shifted his gaze back to the piece. “Surely you’ve come to some conclusion.”
They stood silently in front of the sculpture. Two long, curved sheets of weathered steel shielded shiny steel cylinders. Hammered ribbons of steel circled the outside of the structure and appeared to float around it.
“The cylinders inside represent the status quo. The curved sheets of steel represent the artist.” She stepped forward, pointing to each section. “He desperately wants to break away from the status quo. To turn it on its ear. The floating ribbons of steel represent the possibilities that are out there, if only he can break free of limiting, status quo expectations.”
The woman turned to him. Her eyes locked with his. Slowly, her impish grin turned into a full-blown smirk. She broke into melodic laughter, her eyes twinkling.
“I’m kidding.” She drank more of her champagne as she turned back to study the piece again. “I have no idea what it means. All I know is that I really like it.”
A wide smile tightened Jordan’s cheeks.
Beautiful. A sense of humor. And she doesn’t take herself too seriously.
Jordan would be well on his way to falling in love with this woman, if he weren’t completely opposed to the notion of love at first sight. Or love in general. At least at this stage of his life.
Didn’t mean they couldn’t have a bit of fun together, if she was up for it.
“Well, it can be yours for the bargain price of one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars.” He extended a hand to her. “I’m Jordan Jace, the artist. And I desperately do want to break out of the limiting status quo.”
“Sasha Charles.” She placed her warm hand in his much larger one. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jace.”
“No, Ms. Charles, the pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” He held her hand in his a beat or two longer than was customary. His smile widened when she didn’t pull her hand away. He reluctantly released her hand. “And call me Jordan. I insist.”
“Only if you call me Sasha.” Her smile lit her eyes. She finished her champagne, then placed the empty glass on a passing tray.
“One moment, please.” He halted the server, then turned to her. “Shall I grab another for you?”
“Why, are you one of those artists whose work is better interpreted the more you’ve had to drink?”
A deep, belly laugh erupted from him that turned the heads of several people in attendance. She joined in on the laughter.
“Not particularly,” he managed finally. “But according to my family, they find me far less puzzling once they’ve had a drink or two.”
“Then maybe I should have another.” Sasha took a glass of champagne from the server’s tray and thanked him. “Just in case.”
Jordan definitely liked this woman.
“So, Miss... Sasha, do you often attend gallery openings?” He fell in line beside her as she moved to another piece.
“Sadly, no. I appreciate art, but I’m not much of an aficionado. I simply know what I like when I see it.” She took another sip, her gaze meeting his.
“Then to what do I owe the honor of your attendance here tonight?”
“I was invited to attend tonight’s event.” She walked around the smaller sculpture, her eyes meeting his again, briefly, before returning to the piece. “By a member of Prescott George.”
“I see.”
If he had to be a member of the club, it might as well pay dividends. And if he had his membership in the Millionaire Moguls to thank for bringing this stunning woman into his gallery, well, then maybe membership in the club was worthwhile, after all.
“Which member should I thank for extending the invitation to you? And what prompted you to accept it?” He watched her reaction as she assessed the piece.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Jordan.” Lydia approached hurriedly, pushing her eyeglasses up the bridge of her nose. She clutched her ever-present notepad. “But Mrs. Avery wants to buy three of your pieces—including Opposing Forces.” She nodded toward the sculpture they’d just left. The centerpiece of the exhibition. “But she has a couple of questions she’d like to ask you first.”
“Last chance.” He winked at Sasha, who laughed, before he turned back to Lydia. “Please tell Mrs. Avery that I’ll be with her in just a moment.”
Jordan returned his attention to Sasha. “Seems you’re my good luck charm. I didn’t expect that Opposing Forces would move tonight.”
“Does that mean I’m entitled to a cut of the sale?” Sasha pursed her pouty, pink lips, a smile teasing the edges of her mouth.
“We’ll see.” He smiled. “I have to go, but I won’t be very long. I hope you’re still around when I’m done. There are a few more pieces I’d love to hear your opinion of.”
“Take your time.” Sasha’s gaze held his. “I wouldn’t think of going anywhere.”
Jordan Jace’s photos hadn’t done him justice. The man was absolutely gorgeous. His brilliant smile demanded attention from halfway across the room. And there was something truly magical about his laugh and the touch of his hand.
His penetrating gaze had sent shivers down her spine. And his mouth. There was something about his full lips that made hers burn with the desire to taste them.
It was official. The slight crush she’d developed on Jordan Jace as she’d studied him was now full-blown infatuation.
Her hand curled into a fist at her side, remembering how his large hand had engulfed hers. The tingling in her palm when her skin had touched his. And the trail of electricity that had skittered down her spine and into places she’d rather not admit.
No wonder Jordan had developed a reputation as a playboy during his short time in San Diego. She’d watched as the art groupies and wealthy patrons—like Vivian Avery, a beauty product heiress—had fawned all over him.
Sasha wouldn’t have been surprised if the wealthy heiress had purchased that piece just to bring Jordan back to her side and away from Sasha.
It was just as well. She could use a moment of distance. An opportunity to get her head back on straight. She hadn’t come here to let Jordan Jace sweep her off her feet. Her job was to ensure that he understood exactly why he needed her.
Having had a taste of the challenge ahead, she had no intention of leaving the gallery without doing just that.
* * *
Sasha checked her watch. Jordan had been gone for more than an hour. His business with Vivian Avery hadn’t seemed to take very long. However, he’d been pulled