Mismatch - By Nana Malone Page 0,6

curtain, the crowd could see his hand stroke her breast.

Transfixed, Jessica watched as the model’s legs parted to let Samson between them, and he slid up over her hips. Unable to stop herself, Jessica stopped and stared. Jaw open, she watched as Samson appeared to rock into the painted model with his hips, using his hands to slip up her torso over her breasts. Holy shit. Was he naked? Were they actually—

Jessica shook her head. No. They couldn’t be—

Not to mention they'd be breaking about a million public decency laws. It all had to be part of the show, and she'd fallen for it. All around her, couples started pairing off, some swaying in time to the music as they watched, others clearly in full grind mode, leaving nothing to the imagination about what they would be leaving the club to do later.

Through the speakers, she heard those moans again. Louder this time, but still laced through the music. She could almost swear she heard the model say Samson's name as well. Then she tossed her head back again, and her body went limp. Samson stood at that point and pulled out what looked like a sheet to cover the model’s body. He caressed strategic areas, then tore off the sheet. What the—?

The MC's voice through the speakers broke the trance. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you again for joining us to witness another Samson Marks masterpiece. We will be taking bids on the canvas he created. Just see Gabe for details.”

Excitement coursed through Jessica's body. Sexual and otherwise. For the last thirty minutes, she'd lost time, been entranced, and been sexually excited as well as frustrated. And she knew this was supposed to be a performance piece. If she turned Samson Marks loose on the too-rich-for-their-own-good set, she could make his career. Jessica wanted Samson Marks for her roster and would do just about anything to get him.

Chapter 3

“Holy shit, your brother is like some kind of Pied Piper for snatch.”

In that moment, Eli regretted inviting Vince. The last thing he wanted to hear was Vince’s musings on Sam’s purported pussy prowess. What Eli cared about was Sam’s life. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“No, for real, you to need to be milking this whole twin thing for everything it's worth.”

If he had time for women, maybe. But for the most part, Eli’s time was spent trying to keep Sam out of jail or worse. Then why did you suggest these exhibitions? He didn’t bother to answer his own question. He knew why. Because Sam was ten times the artist Eli would ever be and painting was like lifeblood to him. It had saved his brother from the brink once before, and Eli hoped it would continue to save him. But if it didn't, then he'd be there to catch Sam, as always. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t have a problem with women.”

Vince barked out a laugh and held up his hands as he chewed on his cocktail straw. “Okay, okay, fair enough. You’re a good lookin’ dude. And I’m comfortable enough with myself to say that,” he added. “You have that good dresser swagger thing going for you. I mean, your jacket costs more than my entire suit. And that whole terse, shrewd thing is probably mysterious to the ladies, but man, I gotta tell you, in the five years I’ve known you, not once have you mentioned a woman. Never brought anyone to the parties I invite you to, nothing.” Vince shrugged. “I assumed you were gay.”

“What?” Eli frowned. “No. I like women. Those parties are work.” And the hell he'd bring the women he dated anywhere near his professional life or people he knew long term. That would suggest a certain kind of permanence he wasn’t particularly interested in.

“You know what your problem is? You need to learn to relax a little, have some fun. I mean we’re in a room full of beautiful women, and all you’ve done is brood over your brother.”

“I have plenty of fun.” Yeah right.

Vince chuckled. “Is that why you've been glaring at that curtain and playing with your drink? If you wanted scotch and water, you shouldn't have asked for ice.”

Eli glanced at his glass. Vince was right—the ice had almost melted. All that remained of the cubes were tiny slivers. He deliberately took a long draw of air. “Just been preoccupied.”

“With what?”

“What are you, my shrink?” Eli scowled.

Vince shrugged. “Well, how about you consider me a friend or