Down London Road - Young Samantha (читать бесплатно книги без сокращений txt) 📗

There was a fair distance between us, so I couldn’t make out the colour of his eyes, but they were thoughtful and probing, his brow creased as if he was just as confused by the static between us as I was. Why had he caught my attention? He was not the kind of guy I usually responded to. Aye, he was pretty good-looking. Messy dark blond hair and sexy stubble. Tall, but not as tall as Malcolm. This guy was probably six feet tall and no more. I would stand a few inches taller than him in the heels I wore tonight. I could see the muscles in his biceps and the thick veins on his arms because the idiot was wearing a T-shirt in late winter, but he wasn’t built like the guys I dated. He wasn’t broad and beefy. He was lean and sinewy. Mmm, ‘sinewy’ was a good word for it. And did I mention the tattoos? I couldn’t tell what they were, but I could make out the colourful ink on his arm.

I didn’t do tattoos.

When his eyes lowered under their lashes, I inhaled at the shock-like feeling that jolted through me as his gaze travelled down my body and back up again. I felt like squirming, overwhelmed under his flagrant perusal, though usually, if a guy checked me out like that, I would just smile back flirtatiously. The moment his eyes came back to my face, he offered me one last searing look – a look that I felt like a callused caress down my body – and then dragged his gaze away. Feeling dazed and decidedly turned on, I watched him stride off behind one of the art walls that divided the gallery into sections.

‘Who was that?’ Joss’s voice broke through my fog.

I blinked and turned back to her with what I imagined was a stupefied look on my face. ‘I have no idea.’

Joss smirked. ‘He was hot.’

A throat cleared behind her. ‘What was that?’

Her eyes twinkled mischievously, but when she turned to face her scowling partner she had schooled her expression into one of innocence. ‘I meant from a purely aesthetic point of view, of course.’

Braden grunted but pulled her tighter into his side. Joss grinned back at me and I couldn’t help but smile. Braden Carmichael was this no-nonsense, straight-talking, intimidating businessman, and yet somehow Jocelyn Butler had managed to wrap him around her pinkie.

I think we stood there for about an hour, drinking the free champagne and discussing everything under the sun. Sometimes I felt intimidated when the two of them were together because they were so intelligent and knowledgeable. I rarely felt I had anything profound or interesting to add to the conversation, so I just laughed and enjoyed them teasing the hell out of each other. When I was by myself with Joss it was different. I knew Joss better than I knew Braden, so I was confident that she would never want me to feel like I had to be anybody other than myself. It was a nice change of pace from the rest of my life.

We chatted with some other guests, trying not to seem confused by their enthusiasm for the art, but after an hour Joss turned to me apologetically. ‘We have to go, Jo. I’m sorry, but Braden’s got a really early meeting tomorrow.’ I must have shown my disappointment because she shook her head. ‘You know what? No, I’ll stay. Braden can go. I’ll stay.’

No. Absolutely not. I had seen myself through situations like this before. ‘Joss, go home with Braden. I’m fine. Bored. But fine.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Positive.’

She gave my arm an affectionate squeeze and took Braden’s hand. He gave me a nod, and I returned it with a smile and a ‘Goodnight,’ then watched as they walked across the gallery to the clothes rail where all the guests’ coats were hanging. Like a true gentleman, Braden held Joss’s coat for her and helped her shrug it on. He kissed her hair before he turned to pull on his own coat. With his arm wrapped around her shoulders, he led her out into the cold February night, leaving me inside the gallery with an unfamiliar ache in my chest.

I glanced down at the gold Omega watch Malcolm had bought me for Christmas, and as always when I checked the time, I bemoaned the fact that I couldn’t sell it yet. It was possibly the costliest gift I’d ever received, and would do wonders for our savings. There was always the hope, however, that my relationship with Malcolm would turn into something more significant and selling the watch would no longer be an issue. But I never allowed myself to get my hopes too high.

It was nine fifteen. My pulse picked up a little and I riffled through my tiny fake Gucci clutch purse for my phone. No messages. Dammit, Cole.

I had just pressed SEND on a text message reminding Cole to call me as soon as he arrived home, when an arm slid around my waist and the woodsy, leathery smell of Malcolm’s aftershave filled my nostrils. Not needing to tilt my head back to meet his gaze since I was wearing my five-inch heels, I turned and smiled, covering my worry for Cole as our eyes met. I’d gone for sophisticated in the Dolce & Gabbana red pencil dress that Malcolm had bought for me on our last shopping trip. The dress showed off my trim figure to perfection. I loved it. I would be sad to add it to my eBay pile.

‘There you are.’ Malcolm grinned at me, his brown eyes bright as they crinkled attractively at the corners. He had a head full of lush, dark hair with a sexy sprinkling of grey at the sides. He wore suits all the time and tonight was no exception, the Savile Row tailoring exquisite. ‘I thought your friends were coming tonight or I wouldn’t have left you all alone.’

I smiled at that and placed my hand on his chest. ‘Don’t worry. I’m fine. They were here, but they had to leave early.’ I looked at the phone still curled in my hand – where was Cole? Little gremlins awoke in my stomach to nibble anxiously at my insides.

‘I’m buying one of Becca’s paintings. Come and pretend with me that it’s brilliant.’

I chuckled and then immediately felt bad, biting my lip to stall the sound. ‘I’m so glad I’m not the only one that doesn’t get it.’

His eyes darted around the room, his lips curled in amusement. ‘Well, thankfully these people know more about art than we do, so I’ll at least get a return on my investment.’

He kept his arm around me and guided me through the gallery and behind a couple of walls, where Becca stood under a huge monstrosity of splashed paintwork. I almost tripped over my own feet when I saw who she appeared to be arguing with.

Tattoo Guy.

Crap.

‘You okay?’ Malcolm glanced down at me, frowning as he felt the tension in my body.

I smiled brightly. Rule number one: never let him see you as anything but positive and charming. ‘I’m great.’

Tattoo Guy was grinning at Becca, his hand on her hip, trying to pull her to him, his expression bordering on appeasing. Wilfully, I ignored the catch in my breath at the flash of his wicked white smile. Becca still looked a bit put out, but I totally understood when she stepped into his embrace. I thought any woman would have forgiven the bastard anything when he smiled at her like that.

Averting my eyes from Tattoo Guy, I followed Malcolm as he came to a stop and the couple turned to us. Becca’s cheeks were flushed pink, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘Just ignore me and Cam. We’re just fighting because he’s an eejit.’

I didn’t look at him, but I heard him chuckle. ‘No, we’re fighting because we have different taste in art.’

‘Cam hates my artwork,’ Becca said with a huff. ‘He can’t be like other boyfriends and lie at least. No. Brutally honest, this one. At least Malcolm likes my work. Did Mal tell you he’s buying my painting, Jo?’

You’d think I’d be jealous of Malcolm’s obvious affection for Becca, and I know it sounds horrible, but until I saw her artwork I was a little jealous. I wasn’t exceptionally smart, I didn’t draw, I didn’t dance, I didn’t sing, I was just an okay cook … Thankfully, I was pretty. Tall with legs that went on forever, I’d been told countless times I had a good body and great skin. Combine those with huge green eyes, long, thick strawberry blonde hair, and delicate features and you were left with an attractive package – one that had been turning heads since I was a teenager. Aye, I didn’t have much, but what I did have, I used to my family’s advantage.