Seduction’s Canvas (Crimson Romance) (26 page)

Sam was silent as she took in all her mother had said, the anger and the hurt churning through her. Her mother was so wrong to interfere in her life like that, but hell, she was also was so right about so many things. Since she had let Mark into her life, her work had changed and become more vibrant and more alive. Yes, she did show a renewed interest in Leighton Industries. And if truth be told, she wanted to have a hand in it, but she was holding back, afraid to step forward into a destiny that was clearly in her blood. And then the worst part her mother was right about … the part with Mark. No, she had not made any effort to get the easy answers that were clearly at hand when it came to him. She’d jumped to conclusions and filled in the blanks like a game of Mad Libs, creating a narrative for a script that read like the past she was used to — one that no longer fit with her reality. And in the end she had left him, her husband, alone and hurting in a hotel room in Vegas.

“Oh hell, Mom, I think I made a mistake.”

• • •

“Daddy, what are you doing here?” Sam asked, shocked to see her father sitting in her lobby after her mother dropped her off in front of her building.

“I was worried about you, dear,” he said, standing and coming forward. “And I had a package to drop off. Your mother sent me out west to pick it up.”

“Good, because I think we have lots to talk about. I’ve made some decisions about my art, which I’m not willing to give up, and about coming to work for the company, which I am now willing to consider.” She gave her father serious narrowed eyes and wagged her finger. “But you need to know I’m not some little girl you can order around, or one of your yes guys there to kiss your behind.”

Her father grinned widely as he drew her into his arms. “And when have you ever been anybody’s yes man, Sam?” He gave her back a pat. “I’m just thrilled to have you by my side in any way. I’m sure you’ll be able to do it all — and do it all exceptionally. I have no doubt.”

Sam let out a deep breath, happy to be in her father’s arms and happy with her decision to somehow have it all. She knew she’d be able to work it out. For herself and for Charles’s memory. But then something shifted and Sam sucked in a breath as her heart did a triple flip and her eyes filled with tears at seeing Mark come out from behind the pillar by the elevators.

She moved back from her now grinning father. “Ahh, the package from out west. Special delivery. I’ll just leave you to it.”

Sam could barely breathe, let alone move. Mark looked magnificent even if a little rough, his jaw not yet shaved, his tee wrinkled, dark circles under his deep brown eyes, shiny with unshed tears. He swallowed and his nose flared and Sam could see that he was clearly trying his best to be strong in front of her father, strong for her. It was so easy to see because she could now see him. All of him, as he had always seen her. In his arms was an old wooden crate, just like the one he was carrying when they first met. Today it was filled to overflowing with lavender and deep red roses.

But still, Sam didn’t say a word. She found her breath and walked by him, toward the elevator bank, and pressed the button waiting as calmly as she could for it to open, her heart skittering. When it did, she put out a hand, holding it open for Mark to enter.

He looked at her straight on, those dark eyes full of all the world’s promise.

“Hi, I’m Samara Leighton-Thorn and I want to paint you.”

Mark smiled, his eyes dark and gleaming. But then he licked his lips and raised that damned brow, causing a flame to come to Sam’s cheeks. She got that familiar tingle as his rich timbre filled the space, and visions of big, dark wheels rolling across hot gravel came to her mind once again. He tipped her chin up and leaned down, close to her lips, but then leaned over further and let that sexy gravel sweep across her ear. “Oh, sweetheart, you think you have enough paint to cover me?”

Sam smiled, and for the first time in what felt like such a long time, it was big and wide and uncontrollable. Full of pure joy. “Believe me, Mr. Thorn, I’ve got enough to cover you for a lifetime.”

The End

A native New Yorker, K.M. Jackson had two dreams for what she wanted to be when she “grew up”: 1. a fashion designer, and 2. a writer.

After graduating from high school, she pursued her first dream and studied fashion design at New York’s FIT. She then spent ten years designing for various New York houses. But after years of juggling the oh-so-glam world of mid-market fashion along with being a mother of twins, K.M. took the leap of faith and decided to pursue her other long held dream of being a writer.

She currently lives in a suburb of New York with her husband, teen twins, and her precocious terrier named Jack who keeps her on her toes.

You can find her most days on her blog at
www.kwana.com
and on Facebook at
http://www.facebook.com/KmJacksonAuthor
.

The boat pitched forward and once again, Mika Walters’s stomach did that revolting tuck- roll-flip thing that had sweat popping out on her brow. It was in that exact moment she decided that if she were to be sick, the best place would be all over her boss’s leather-clad feet.

But, instead she swallowed and held on as crystal blue water lapped at the sides of the old ferry, rocking the vessel back and forth. Still, Mika couldn’t help but notice the erratic motion perfectly matched her frayed nerves. She worried at her bottom lip. Why did he insist on going to this island in the middle of nowhere to shoot anyway? And now traveling by this rickety ferry on top of it — they could capsize on the way, and no one would be the wiser. She looked up from his sandal-covered feet and narrowed her eyes on her boss. Yep, she was sure it was to punish her for messing up the crew’s plans.

“We could have stayed on the mainland, you know,” Mika grumbled toward her boss, photographer Alejandro Vargas.

But her words seemed to go unnoticed. As usual, his eyes and attention were elsewhere.

She tightened her grip on the boat’s edge as she studied Alejandro. Currently he was looking through his camera’s view-finder, his gaze trained on something far in the distance. His body was relaxed and swaying with the boat, but his arms were strong and steady, keeping the lens perfectly still.

How did he do it?
She wondered to herself, and not for the first time that day. How did he manage to look so cool in this, what — 98, 100 degree heat? And the rocking boat was enough to make a seasoned sailor ill, but still, Alejandro the Great was unflappable.

Well, she would not be sick. There was no way she was giving him the satisfaction. Mika took a deep breath through her mouth to ease her stomach. She then gave Ale a cool once-over, traveling from his rich dark hair, cropped short with hints of sun-kissed gold, working down his strong nose with those slightly flaring nostrils, to those full lips she was sure if placed in just the right spot could —

“I know,” he said over his shoulder. His deep voice jolting her out of her very inappropriate, but lately all-too-frequent diversion of assessing his stormy good looks. Thankfully his attention was still trained somewhere on the horizon so he didn’t catch her longing and lusting. So very un-Mika like.

She nervously ran sweaty palms over her thighs. What had gotten into her — or better yet, what needed to? Since her break up with Eric “What-a-Waste-of-Two-Years” a couple of months ago, she’d been on edge and, to top it off, having these crazy Alejandro fantasies. She wrinkled her nose. If she was honest with herself, the Alejandro fantasies came long before the break up, but that was neither here nor there. Probably some silly work-slash-boss-slash-(ugh)-hero-worship thing. Totally inappropriate and therefore to be pushed aside, which she rightly did.

“I know you know,” she answered, her voice clipped and tight. “But care to share with me why we’re going to this remote island three days ahead of the rest of the crew when we can’t even do the shoot? I’ve already apologized. Besides, we could have stayed at the hotel on the mainland and gotten ready for the shoot there. Caught up on some other outstanding business.”

Nothing. Not a turn or a movement. Alejandro was getting his shot and didn’t deem her question worthy of an answer at this time.

That was it. He
was
punishing her for screwing up the travel plans. Well, sorry. It wasn’t easy being photographer’s assistant and his Gal Friday, too.

When she took the job three years ago, it was to be the learning experience of a lifetime and a launching pad to her own career as a photographer. Taking her mapped-out career plans and setting them firmly on course. She’d dreamed of it being magnificent, she’d be learning from Alejandro the Great — conqueror of fashion, women and, as it turned out, assistants. And for the most part it was. Alejandro, living up to his reputation, was a true genius with an unparalleled eye. And over the years he’d never been stingy about sharing his knowledge with her. She’d forever be grateful for that. But somehow the job became more than she’d bargained for. Who knew the man could be so downright difficult? Chewing up even the mightiest of assistants and spitting them out in the blink of an eye. Well, she wasn’t one to cower. She’d been the only person able to stick it out with him for any length of time and in the end, ended up doing the job of two, really three people. Hell, his agent even hated to call him. But enough was enough.

She worried at her lip again as motion sickness was inched out by a haunting thread of melancholy. But it had to be. This was always designed to be a transient part of her dream. A part that was about to come to an end. Though he didn’t know it, this would be their last location job together. Mika pushed the feeling aside and focused on what was at hand.

“You know, we wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t fired Brian,” she said challengingly. “He should have been on hand to handle travel arrangements.”

Finally, he turned toward her, lowering his camera. Mika watched the muscles in his tanned arms flex. His eyes, a rich chocolate brown highlighted with the same flecks of gold that teased at his hair, leveled her with a hard stare. It was the same stare that made grown men quiver in their boots.

But she would not flinch. She stared back, giving as she got.

Ale’s voice was soft and even, but laced with an edge that said she may be treading in dangerous waters. “No. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d coordinated everything properly. We both know Brian couldn’t get a simple coffee order right, which is why he is no longer in my employ. I relied on you for this and now we have to wait three days for the rest of the crew to show up at the hotel for the shoot. No clothes, make-up artists, or models.” His voice rose with impatience ever so slightly then leveled out again. “Well, I’m not letting these days go to waste by just lounging at a hotel and tapping my fingers. We’ll check out this island and you never know, it may be a better location than the mainland one. I was not inspired there. Besides, I can get some shots for my book. You know how I feel about wasting time.”

Mika nodded. Of course, his book. His special side project. Lately, it was all he could think about when he wasn’t shooting for a job. He was like a man obsessed. Always on the hunt for the perfect shot for it, but nothing seemed to satisfy him. To her, most were amazing, but they weren’t what he was looking for and in the end she wound up filing away hundreds of images for him that were breathtaking, but he’d just shoved them aside. Deemed not what he was looking for. The question remained, what was he looking for?

“At least if I had Karina … ” Ale continued, his voice trailing off with the woman’s name.

Mika felt her blood immediately heat, and was mad at herself for it. Karina. The It model of the moment. She was sure if Alejandro had Karina, or any of the other models booked for this week’s shoot with him he’d have set plans in action — and they didn’t all involve working on his beloved book.

She gave her head a slight shake as she twisted her lip, biting the outside edge. No, she wasn’t going to dwell. Soon the days of watching Alejandro go from one long-legged conquest to another would be behind her.

“Come on, Mika. Let’s make the best of this,” he said, his mood shifting like the winds on water. He gestured toward the buckling sea craft under their feet that dared call itself a ferry just as a choppy pocket tossed them up in the air then abruptly crashed them back down.

Mika couldn’t help the glare she gave him as she clinched harder onto the edge of the boat. “Fine, but maybe you ought to push one of those life jackets a little closer to me.”

Alejandro grinned wide, bestowing on her a dazzling white smile, letting her know all was forgiven about the travel plans and he was right where he wanted to be in that moment. That was Ale. Stormy one minute and blindingly bright the next. Totally unpredictable. “There’s my girl. Always the trooper. I knew I could count on you.”

Her frown turned to a grimace. “Well, can you at least admit that taking the speed boat to the island would have been a better choice?”

Alejandro shrugged and lifted his camera once again. He pointed it at the old brown-skinned captain, Tong, who waved and spread his weathered face into a craggy smile just as Alejandro clicked the shutter. “I will not.”

“Of course you won’t.” Mika stuck out her tongue at his back.

Just then, quick as a jaguar, Ale turned his trained lens to her and snapped the picture. “Caught you!” He threw his head back and laughed, for a moment not the usual Alejandro the Great. Not the conqueror of fashion, assistants, and models, but the one in her mind — conqueror of her heart, her soul and, if she was brave enough to admit her deep dark wish out loud, her body.

Mika sighed, letting out a long breath into the salty sea breeze.
Yeah, you caught me, Ale, but don’t be so cocky. You just might find yourself caught, too, one day.

She turned away from him under the guise of taking in the lush tropical setting, but in reality she was trying to figure out how she was going to survive three days and nights alone on an island with him. Alone with the thoughts that had been haunting her soul so much of late.