Faking It - Crusie Jennifer (читать книги бесплатно полностью .txt) 📗

“I forged my first painting at twelve,” she said, still trying to unbutton his shirt. “What is wrong with this shirt?”

He pulled it over his head and then sucked in his breath as she licked his chest. “Keep talking,” he said as he started on the slippery knots of her jacket. This time they’d both get it right.

“My dad sold a Monet I faked when I was fifteen.” She yanked her jacket over her head before he could start the next knot. “Your turn.”

“I played three-card monte in Bible School.” He stripped her T-shirt off, leaving her in her black bra, looking rounder than he’d remembered and hotter than he could believe.

“More,” she said.

“When the teacher caught me, I told her I was doing it for the Lord and she gave me a gold star.” He stared at her as she rose up to meet him, all black lace and round flesh, but she caught his hand as he reached for her.

“Con me,” she said.

“I’ll respect you in the morning.”

She laughed, and he leaned in, but she pulled back. “Con me.”

Right. The con. First the smile, then the “yes.”

He kissed her on the neck and then bit her softly where he’d kissed her, and she caught her breath. “More?” he whispered, and she said, “Yes.”

He bit harder, and she trembled under him, digging her fingers into his shoulders. I want you now, he thought, but she wanted conned. What was next? Think. Right, make her feel superior. He looked down at her beautiful crooked face and thought, God knows, you are. “I can’t believe the way you played me,” he said. “You’re incredible.”

She melted against him, breathing deeper, and he curved his hand around the firm heat of her breast and felt her tighten as she gasped. “Asthma?” he said, not sure, and she said, “Tom,” and stretched against him. Lust rolled over him and blanked out everything but her.

“That’s it?” Tilda said, her voice soft in his ear as he pulled her close. “That’s the con?”

He smelled the cinnamon in her hair as he kissed her shoulder. Her fingers trailed down his chest, and he shook his head to clear it. Come on, he told himself. Smile, yes, superior… “I can’t remember the rest,” he told her. “You’re ruining me, Scarlet.”

She glowed with heat under him. “Ask me for what you want, but make me think you’re doing me a favor.”

“Right,” Davy said. “Thank God you listen at doors.”

She ran her hand down his stomach, and he lost his place in the conversation again.

“So what are you going to do for me, Ralph?” she whispered.

“Celeste,” he said, searching desperately for something good, anything good.

“Yes, Ralph?” She kissed him, and he was lost in her heat again, and then she slid her hand lower and inspiration hit Davy everywhere.

He pulled back a little and looked down at her sternly. “Celeste, for your own good…”

She smiled that crooked grin at him, and the room grew hazy.

“Out of the kindness of my heart-”

She pressed closer, that lush mouth just millimeters from his.

“-I’m going to cure you of your vibrator addiction.”

“Save me,” Tilda said, and Davy moved to take her mouth and everything else she had.

UPSTAIRS, GWEN watched Clea try to collect Mason. The preview still had some time to run, but things were winding down. Nadine looked tired but happy, which wasn’t surprising since she’d worked nonstop all night. Even Steve looked fairly content, stretched out on the snake armchair, waiting for another stranger to come by and pet him. Louise was safely back at the club, singing with Andrew. Tilda had her last Scarlet back.

Everybody’s safe, she thought. It’s a good night.

So why did she feel like smacking somebody with a blue armadillo footstool?

“This was so cool,” Nadine said, coming up to her, Steve now in her arms. “I’d be bummed it’s over, but we get to do it again tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, lucky us,” Gwen said. “How’s Steve?”

“He loved it,” Nadine said. “People kept coming up and petting him and calling him ‘Steve Goodnight’ and telling him he was a good dog and the Dispatch took his picture. He was born to be a gallery dog, weren’t you, puppy?”

Steve looked up at her, patient as ever.

“And he didn’t bite anybody,” Nadine said. “He didn’t even try to hump Ariadne when Dorcas brought her down. They sat in that armchair together and looked so cute. Except when Ariadne would swat him. And even then he just sat there.”

“Good boy, Steve,” Gwen said, and Steve sighed.

“I’m going to take him out before I put him upstairs. Do you know where Aunt Tilda is?”

“She’s back,” Gwen said. “She must be in bed by now.”

The gallery door opened and Mason came back in, looking a little flustered. “Could I talk to you, Gwennie?”

“Of course,” Gwen said, and thought, Please let me get out of here soon.

Nadine rolled her eyes behind Mason’s back and took Steve out through the office.

Mason nodded at her. “She’s a good girl. She was a little pushy tonight, I thought.”

She made tonight, Gwen thought, and said, “She’s a Goodnight. They don’t hold back.”

“I had a wonderful time,” Mason said.

“Good,” Gwen said, trying to be nice. Mason was sweet.

“I’d like to have a lot more wonderful times,” Mason said, clumsily taking Gwen’s hand across the counter.

“Oh,” Gwen said.

“I love this place,” Mason said. “And tonight I knew this is where I belong. Let me take Tony’s place and take care of you.”

“Oh,” Gwen said again. “Well, I’m all right. I have family.”

“That’s not the same.” Mason leaned closer. “Let me into your life, Gwennie. You’ll never have to worry about money again, I swear.”

“Uh,” Gwen said, looking around. “Where’s Clea?”

“In the car,” Mason said. “That’s over, there really wasn’t ever much there. After her husband died, I took her out a couple of times just to be kind. I didn’t mean for it to-”

“Mason,” Gwen said, taking a step back. “You don’t have to tell me this.”

“Yes I do,” Mason said. “I want you to understand, it was just that somehow we ended up together.”

“Look, Mason,” Gwen said.

“But she’s not you,” Mason said. “In fact, I’m beginning to think she’s not even what I thought she was. I think she may have killed Cyril.”

“Really,” Gwen said, thinking Clea needed to do some PR fast.

“Look, I know Clea doesn’t make me look good,” Mason said. “I know I’m not Tony.”

Gwen sighed. “Actually, that’s not a drawback.”

He leaned closer and kissed her.

It was a perfectly good kiss, and she was so surprised, she kissed him back because she hadn’t done it in a while.

It was nice, and she thought, It’s been too long since I did this.

He leaned back and smiled at her, sweet as ever, and said, “I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” and she thought, He’s not Tony, but Tony had been a doughnut and look where that had gotten her, and Ford was a hit man -no more doughnuts, no more doughnuts- and she said, “Well, do it again,” and kissed him back.

Muffins, she thought. Better than passion. Really.

When he left reluctantly, promising to see her tomorrow, Nadine came back in. “That man kissed you,” she said.

“Yes, he did,” Gwen said. “He wants to help us run the gallery.” And some other things, too.

“No,” Nadine said, with great conviction, as Ethan came to stand in the office doorway.

“What?” Gwen said.

“No. We run the gallery. No outsiders. This is family.”

Gwen blinked at her, amazed by her fierceness. “You let Ethan help.”

“Ethan is family,” Nadine said, and Ethan looked as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. “He’s like Davy.”

“Davy?” Gwen shook her head. “Honey, Davy’s leaving any day now.”

“Nope,” Nadine said. “He’s going to stay and marry Aunt Tilda, and they’re going to run the gallery until I get out of college. Then they’re going to retire and I’m going to run it. I’ve decided that’s my career.”