Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“I never want to pull out, angel. I want to just stay in you forever.”
“Can’t you?” she giggles.
“If only.” I kiss her like a man kisses his wife. Soon there will be a ring on her finger. “Let’s actually shower now. I have somewhere to take you.”
Megan looks back at me, her eyes so sweet. “Orson, you’ve already bought me so many clothes—”
“Not clothes, sweetheart,” I tell her. “Something better. Much better.”
When we pull up in front of the gallery, Megan’s face nearly falls off. She looks over at me like she’s either about to scream or cry.
“Orson! What are we doing here?”
“What do you mean?” I reply, playing it off. “You like art, don’t you?”
She grabs my wrist before I can get out of the car. “Orson, this is Julie Spencer’s gallery. This is the art gallery. Highly exclusive. Every artist knows about this place—”
“And I know the owner.” I smile, caressing her cheek with the back of my hand. “Come on. I’ll give you a tour.”
Her grip on my wrist softens. Grinning, I step out of the car and watch as she smooths her dress and gets out with me. She’s wearing a gorgeous blue dress, one of the ones I bought her yesterday. She’s even getting better walking in heels. Personally, I just like to watch her try. I don’t care if she’s got it down like a runway model. It’s all her tiny little quirks and tics that make me love her more.
Plus, if she trips, that just means I get to catch her. And that means touching her more.
I keep my eyes on her as I open the door.
This is it. The moment of truth. And when Megan sees the surprise I’ve arranged for her, she freezes. Her jaw drops, and I have to wrap my arm around her waist to keep her from falling.
“Orson…what have you done?”
Megan’s finished paintings adorn the walls. She stares at them, then rubs her eyes in disbelief.
“Only what you deserve.”
“But, I—”
“There you are!” Julie emerges from her office, both arms raised as she goes to Megan for a big hug. “It is so nice to finally meet you! I always love meeting talented artists.”
Megan clears her throat and glances at me, then back to Julie.
“You…you think I’m talented?”
Julie laughs. “Well, you don’t think I just hang up whatever Orson tells me, do you? I run this gallery. Not him.”
The look on Megan’s face is priceless. Way better than the look she gave me when I revealed her new studio. And I savor every second of it.
“As a matter of fact, I’d love to do a show for you next month,” Julie continues. “Invite all my members, serve drinks. You could come and answer questions, maybe sign autographs. What do you think?”
Megan’s eyes go wide as globes. “Sign autographs…?”
I pull her in for a hug and nod to Julie. “That would be great. E-mail my assistant with the details, and we’ll set it up.”
“Wonderful! For now, I’ll let you two look around.”
Julie goes back to her office, and Megan starts to panic. “Orson, are you kidding me? I can’t do a gallery show! I’ve never even shown my work to anyone but Trish! I’m not ready for something like this.”
Tenderly, I run my hand through her hair. It’s so easy to get lost in her beauty. She’s so goddamn sexy. I want to lock the doors, lift up the hem of her dress, and take her on one of the benches beneath her paintings.
“You are ready,” I assure her. “Didn’t you hear Julie? She wouldn’t host you if she didn’t love your work.”
“Come on, you pulled some strings!”
“I know her,” I admit. “But all I did was ask. If she didn’t like your work, she would have said so.”
Megan swallows hard, then glances back at her work hanging on the walls. I stroke her hair and watch. After a moment, she takes a deep breath and looks back at me.
“You really believe in me, don’t you?” she asks.
I nod firmly, taking her hand in mine. “I have absolutely no doubt.”
Her expression softens. She stares into my eyes, then slowly nods. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
7
MEGAN
Paint, paint, paint, paint! That’s what I’ve been telling myself all morning ever since Orson dropped that bomb on me yesterday.
A gallery show for Julie Spencer? I still can’t believe it.
Then again, I can’t believe anything that’s happened to me over the last few days.
This incredible man blew into my life like a tornado, swept me off my feet, and changed everything forever. My heart sparks whenever I look at him. My body heats up whenever he’s near me. I want to scream into the ether about just how wonderful he is. I want to tell everyone! But Trish hasn’t been answering her phone all morning.
I look at the mix of paints on my wooden palette beside me. That’s how I feel inside. All mixed up.