I planned to make the circle, say my goodbyes, then go home and drown my lust and indecision in a bottle of Shiraz and a really sappy movie. With any luck, Flynn would still be at work, and I could have the entire bottle to myself.
I started to meander toward the door, but didn’t make it very far. Instead, I ended up pausing just a few steps from my starting point, jerked to a stop by the sight of Michelle and Cole, her hand on his shoulder and her mouth near his ear.
True, she could have been telling him something mundane—I thought you should know your car has a flat—but my imagination was drifting more in the direction of why don’t we slip in the back and I’ll suck your cock.
Shit.
Yes, I was an absolute, indisputable wreck—and it was entirely Cole August’s fault.
I steeled myself to continue toward the exit, and kept the thought of a glass of wine and a movie dangling in front of me like a carrot. But then I saw Cole’s hand on the small of Michelle’s back, and his face as hard as stone. And then, when the two of them stopped in front of the bloated, baby-faced man Cole had been talking with earlier, my curiosity got the better of me.
I couldn’t hear the conversation, but I could tell that Cole was royally pissed off—and Baby Face looked pale and frightened.
Michelle said something to Cole, and from the way he took three long, measured breaths, I had to assume he was trying to control his temper. Then he and Michelle led a very unhappy-looking Baby Face through the gallery and into the closed-off section.
I debated for only a minute, then followed.
When I reached the velvet rope, I peered into the closed section, but didn’t see them. The painting that had caught my attention earlier was to the right, and I knew that the offices were toward the left. Both were beyond the velvet rope, and I knew that if I slipped past it a second time, I’d be kicking good manners to the curb even while embracing my inner snoop.
I shrugged. Seemed like a reasonable trade-off to me.
I slipped into the gallery, took off my shoes so as to walk more softly, and made my way to the end of the hall and the large door that led to yet another corridor. This one ran parallel to the main gallery and housed the staff offices, studio space for Cole and the featured artists, restrooms, and supply closets.
The door was cracked open slightly, and since that was practically an invitation, I didn’t even hesitate. I was almost to Cole’s office when the door opened and Michelle slipped out.
I flattened myself against the wall, certain that the red dress was shining like a beacon and she would see me. But she walked in the opposite direction, continuing down the corridor until she reached the end and the door that led into the small front office that served as Liz’s primary domain.
The moment she disappeared through the door, I sagged with relief. Then immediately jumped when the sharp explosion of shattering glass echoed through the area, followed by Cole’s deep, angry, and tightly controlled voice. “Goddammit, Conrad. Do you have any idea how easy—how goddamn fucking easy—it would be for me to kill you right now? What a goddamn pleasure it would be to snap your neck and put you out of my misery? Do you? Do you?”
I couldn’t hear Conrad’s reply, but I had the feeling it involved whimpering.
“If I ever hear that you’ve come sniffing around my people again, I swear to god I will rip your heart out. Now get the fuck out of here before I lose my goddamn temper.”
Conrad must have taken Cole at his word, because he stumbled out of the door, as white as a sheet and moving so fast he jiggled. He turned toward me, then jumped even more when he saw me standing there.
He said, “Oh!” then jogged past me toward the door. I sagged back against the wall, relieved. And determined to follow Conrad out as soon as my heart rate slowed a tiny bit.
Determined or not, tonight no longer seemed like the best night for a seduction.
I drew in a breath, pushed away from the wall, and started to walk quietly toward the exit.
I’d gone only two steps when I froze, suddenly certain that Cole was behind me. I’d heard nothing. Seen nothing. But the air around me seemed to crackle, as if the remnants of Cole’s anger were making him hum like a live wire.
“I’m sorry,” I said, as I began to turn around. “I didn’t mean to—”
But the words died on my lips. He was right there, his huge frame filling the hallway, his muscles tight, his expression ferocious.
His hands were clenched in fists by his sides. I could see the effort that was required to hold himself together, and I knew that all it would take was one wrong word to completely rip him apart.
I spoke anyway.
Maybe I was trying to soothe. Maybe I wanted the explosion.
All I knew was that I wanted to hear his name on my lips and see that fierce intensity in his eyes directed at me.
I was playing with fire, and so help me, I didn’t care.
“Cole,” I said, then stopped when my voice seemed to set him in motion. His long strides brought him right in front of me. Instinctively, I took a single step back, then felt his hand close around my upper arm.