HowMuchYouWantToBet (11 page)

“Dad, that’s none of your business.”

“You don’t have a problem, do you? You shouldn’t be ashamed…”

Gib was ready to say something rude when he noticed the smile creeping across his father’s face.

“Help me with my tie, old man.” Winn’s shoulders were still shaking slightly with silent laughter as he came toward him. With quick, simple movements he began to tie the bow.

“Your mother put me up to this questioning.”

“Figures,” Gib said, lifting his chin.

“You know how she is.”

“She doesn’t need to meddle, because there’s nothing there.” As soon as the words left his mouth he knew it was a lie, but—love? No, he couldn’t love Neil. He’d known her three months, at the most. Didn’t it take more time?

“Neil’s fun.” Winn raised his eyebrow. “As I said, you know how your mother is, so after I say this I’ll leave you alone.”

“Dad.”

“Let me finish.”

Gib waited for him to speak. It felt like the time Winn had come to his room when he was twelve to have “a talk.” It was the only other time his father had put down his business attitude and looked uncomfortable, especially when Gib had asked if his testicles could really turn colors.

“The Sheldon has a penthouse suite reserved for me, for whenever I come into town. You just have to tell them who you are, and you can use the room.”

Not quite as uncomfortable with the advice as he might have expected, Gib considered the option. “Thanks for the tie.”

Winn patted his shoulder. “Make your father proud.”

Gib turned to put his coat on and didn’t let out his breath until he heard the bedroom door close.

In love with Neil? No, he couldn’t be.

*****

Neil ran an unsteady hand down the black silk dress. The collar wrapped around her throat and the material reached down to the black heels she wore. That was about all the material covered.

Her back and arms were bare. The way the dress fell on her curves, she might as well have been naked. At the boutique she had wanted to pick out a shawl, but Victoria had insisted she go without it. “Won’t that be tacky?” Neil had asked.

“As stunning as you look, only old biddies and women with no sense of style will complain.”

So, no shawl. Her hair was upswept and ruby teardrops hung at her ears, also foisted on her, but this time Neil appreciated the gift. Neil now understood why Gib bonded with his mother. She also understood the source of his stubborn streak.

Taking a deep breath, Neil left the sanctuary of her room and headed for the stairs. Like proud parents, Winn and Victoria stood waiting at the edge of the staircase. She couldn’t help but smile as she held onto the glossy wood railing. It amazed her how she could love someone in less than twenty-four hours, much less two people.

She wished her parents had lived longer. Maybe they could have been as wonderful, or even better because they would have been hers. Neil stamped out the thought. Tonight she would dance, and not to the sorrowful songs of late blues singers but probably to jazz and classical music. Tonight she’d just
be.

Gib’s breath caught somewhere between his throat and breastbone when he saw Neil. He’d gone to the gardens and picked a handful of flowers, as his mother had nudged him to do, but they lay limp in his hand as he watched her glide down the stairs. Her beauty seemed to shimmer in the dim light. The mass of curls was out of her face, framing it. He was broken from the reverie when he heard his parents’ chuckle.

He grinned at them. “Is this a remake of prom night or something?”

“We’ll go,” Victoria said, sounding disappointed. She hugged Neil, then pecked his cheek. “We just wanted to see your eyes bulge,” she whispered in his ear.

“Scat,” he replied. Winn nodded to him, and then it was just Gib and Neil. “James should be waiting outside.” He offered her the flowers.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.” Unlike the first time he’d given her a flower, she buried her nose in them, taking in the scent.

He wanted to say,
You’re more beautiful,
but he didn’t, as his father’s words rang in his head.

What he felt was lust, not love, he assured himself.

Gib escorted her to the limousine. When settled inside, he poured her a glass of champagne. “I promise we won’t be there long. I need to show my face, wave, and act like it wasn’t a big deal to donate money.”

Neil thought of the talk she’d had earlier with Victoria.

“It’s not an act. Not with you.” Even in the dim light she could see his face sting with color.

“You’re blushing. I don’t think I ever saw a man blush before.”

“Yeah, well, I do what I can.” The smell of him filled the air, and she wanted to do more than dance and joke with him tonight.

“I don’t think I’ve thanked you properly for everything. The clothes, the vacation that I badly needed, all of it.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“A Sullivan never takes without asking, but this time I think I might,” Neil said. She leaned across the seat to him. Splaying a hand over his chest, she pulled him to her. The flash of desire in his brown eyes gave her the permission she didn’t ask for in words.

The hunger to taste him seemed to overwhelm her, engulfing her with the need. She tasted the fruity flavor of the champagne first, and when his tongue thrust into her mouth she could only taste him. His essence was dark and endless with the ability to make her thoughts scatter into oblivion. Never had she wanted a man more than she wanted him.

His hands followed the trail of her spine, sending pinpricks of heat through her. She moaned and changed her position so that her breasts were flattened against his chest. Her nipples hardened with the contact. If her stupid dress hadn’t been in the way, she’d have straddled him, forgetting completely that they were driving down a busy street in San Francisco and that the chauffeur had once changed Gib’s diapers from time to time.

How easily his touch made her forget to keep her distance. She didn’t want to hide from this feeling crowding her brain, her heart. She wanted to be free of the lies, of what she’d omitted to tell him and others over the years. She just wanted him and nothing else, with nothing between them.

Gib’s mind was filled with the taste of her, the way her skin and the silk didn’t seem to end, both smooth, both driving him crazy to feel only that smoothness beneath his hands. He ached with the need to know, and to commit it to memory. Her breathy moans turned into sighs of pleasure when he massaged her breasts through the material.

His hands seemed to glide over them like butter. He felt himself harden against her. For one blinding moment he considered taking her in the car, to be done with this mating dance they’d started months ago. Her exotic scent filled the air and clouded his thinking. Gib needed to breath, but each time he did it was Neil, only her.

The need turned into a borderline desperation. He cursed violently and pulled back from her. Only then did he realize the movement of the limousine had stopped. His brain began to clear and he remembered where they were and who was driving. Neil’s hazel eyes seemed to have a haze over them as she stared back at him, lips swollen and pink, seeming to say,
I’m ready, and wanting.
He cursed again.

The placid knock on the window had them springing apart. James waited a few moments, then opened the door. “Sorry to have kept you waiting, but I had to use the facilities.”

Knowing it was a lie, Gib slid out of the car and turned to help Neil out. Despite her flushed face, she still looked elegantly sexy. “No problem. I lost my earring and Gib helped me find it.”

James only smirked and rounded to the front of the limousine. “Have a good night, and I’ll be here in the…”

“I’ll call you. Thanks.” Gib said quickly and, when he turned to Neil, he grinned. “Was your earring in your mouth?”

She laughed. “Let’s go inside. I know he’s already on the phone, giving your parents a play-by-play.”

“Well, at least I made my father proud.” Neil frowned at him. He shook his head. “I’ll explain later.”

*****

Gala seemed like a mild word to describe the Children’s Library Benefit. Neil wouldn’t have been surprised if the President himself had waltzed into the room. Neil had thought she was prepared for the extent of this soirée. How many times had she garbed herself in silken gowns to go to art extravaganzas, after all. The atmosphere wasn’t all that different, with the murmurs of sordid gossip, the women dressed in elegant gowns either to pick up men or to keep the ones on their arms, the men in tuxedos trying to talk of anything but business and money while flaunting their wealth in what they wore and who they had on their arms. Because of the vulture-like stares directed her way, once again Neil was glad she was with Gib.

“I know I’m not such bad company, for your mind to continue to stray off.” Gib’s voice penetrated the assessment she was making of the attendants of the gala.

Neil turned her gaze back to him. “I was wondering whether the men were going to hit on me first, or were the women going to grill me on how I snagged the Winnfred heir.”

His chuckle rumbled through his body. Neil pressed closer to him, liking the security of his embrace. “Women do tend to move faster than men, but I’m here to protect you.”

“And protect her you should.” Neil tensed in Gib’s arms as she heard a voice that could ruin her life. “The way some of my colleagues have been eyeing her has me worried. I decided to come and warn you, since you’re an old friend of the family.”

Neil didn’t have to turn, in order to know who was speaking. Over the years she had tried to put the memory of Chez Arnold out of her mind. Neil turned, expecting to see the youth and arrogance Chez had been known for as an agent to important artists. Instead, she faced an older version of him, more mellowed. His skin was no longer smooth and taut—it sagged on his face. His chin still pointed out as if daring anyone to punch it, however, and his chestnut brown eyes were warm with remembrance.

“A sight for sore eyes, aren’t you, Sullivan.”

Neil was grateful for the protective arm Gib kept wrapped around her waist, but, looking at Chez, she knew that whatever the man had to say to her, she didn’t want Gib to hear.

“How do you know each other?” Gib asked.

“He was my father’s agent.” Her voice held little emotion.

As if sensing her discomfort, Chez reached for her hand and bowed lightly. “I’d be honored to have the next dance.”

Gib’s hold didn’t loosen until her reply reassured him. “I think I can muster up the energy for you, old friend.”

Neil saw the unspoken question in Gib’s eyes and, though her hands shook, she gave him a steady smile, hoping he wouldn’t press for answers. Later she would have to fill him in, but first she had to know what Chez wanted. Gib nodded and left them on the dance floor.

The opening chords of a jazz tune belted from the band on the small makeshift stage in the center of the room. Never one to back down, Neil met Chez’s gaze head-on. “Someone once said that you could never run fast enough from the past because, no matter what, it will always catch up with you.” She didn’t even try to keep the defiance from her tone.

Chez sighed, and the sound made her think of defeat. “I know you can never forgive me for what I did. I exploited your family for my own gain. I can never prove what you did, but at the same time I never asked if it was you or your father who painted all those paintings. I won’t ask now.”

Neil looked up at him with surprise. She hadn’t expected that. The Chez she knew would have blackmailed her, made some underhanded deal to squeeze more paintings out of her. The new Chez unsettled her, because she had no defense for kindness.

“What is this last hooray dance for? You could have acted like you didn’t know me. There are hundreds of people in this room I’m sure you could have talked to.”

“I know I have no right to ask you this…”

“Then don’t,” she bit out, feeling her brave front crumbling.

“Could you hear me out?”

Neil gazed at the man who held her secrets. His demeanor was humble and sincere. Damn, she hated being a softy. “Say your piece.”

“I saw a beautiful piece of blown glass on the market not too long ago.” He looked down at her.

Instinctively, Neil wanted to back away from him, from his words and whatever good intentions he had. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You’re forgetting I went to the studio your father built for you. I saw the pottery. I saw almost everything, even what you guys tried to hide from me. I’m saying that it’s time you come clean. I want to rectify the part I played. If you will, I’ll back you.”

Knowing what he meant, her heart raced at his words. Isn’t this what she’d always wanted but thought she could never have? To be able to sign her art NS with pride, without deceit?

Regardless, she couldn’t do that—she had made a promise. “I have a new life. Art isn’t my world anymore. I build houses and it makes me happy.”

“Does it really? Does it fulfill you like making art does?”

She tried to force the weight of the lie out, but couldn’t. If she made herself be happy with construction, eventually Neil would be able to forget who she used to be. She was no longer the naive little girl whose dreams were bigger than herself. She could forgot how paint and sand beckoned to her.

“I made a promise,” she told him, ignoring his question, and in that moment, when she looked into his eyes again, she thought,
But if I had the chance, could I ever find the strength to break it?

The song ended and he stepped from her, digging in his pocket. “Here’s my card, if you ever decide.”

CHAPTER 11

Neil was rambling. The steady chatter surprised Gib, but not so much so that he didn’t notice how she avoided any mention of Chez. Knowing Neil for only a few months didn’t make him an expert on her, but he did know two things: Neil didn’t chatter, and if he took her back to his parents’ house she’d come up with an excuse to go straight to bed, alone.

His mood changed as he decided the way the night would end. This time mattered. This woman mattered. Before, he hadn’t cared about the atmosphere surrounding the women he took to bed.