Cat Got Your Tongue? (2 page)

Manhattan, New York

Sunday evening

Alexis Foxley loved attending art auctions.

They made her giddy with delight, the anticipation making her skin tingle and her heartbeat pound. It had to do with the tension in the room combined with the unspoken, yet apparent competition between the wealthy businessmen, women, and celebrities. It was the excitement of the bid, the feeling of awe at the amount of money the guests had to play with, and seeing who would walk away with the prize. Although Alex was usually only a spectator at these events—or arm candy, as some would call it—she always felt a shiver of excitement when an auction approached.

Tonight, however, was the exception. Tonight she wasn’t mere arm candy eyeing out the show. With an alternative motive in mind, she’d manipulated her client, Maxwell Slade, to invite her to the auction as his date.

The shrill sound of the doorbell resonated through her East Side Manhattan apartment and she ignored it, knowing it would be the doorman from the lobby.

She slipped on her black Gucci heels and stole a final glimpse at herself in the mirror. The black Versace gown looked superb and accentuated her body well—a strong, athletic frame, firm breasts with a narrow waist. Although she’d inherited her mother’s petite frame, her career as a female bodyguard and regular workouts at the gym kept her muscles toned. She wore a small diamond necklace around her neck with even smaller matching earrings. She’d pulled her curly black hair into a loose clip at the back of her head, completing her elegant look. Not bad for someone who’d only had twenty minutes to shower and change.

Grabbing her purse, she headed downstairs to meet Max. Despite his age, the older man looked very handsome, his mop of white hair a striking contrast to the dark suit he wore. He stood against the limo door and brightened when he spotted her.

“Hello, darling,” he said and gave her an affectionate kiss on her cheek.

“Hi, Max.” She ducked into the limo and slid over to make space for him. “You look rather dashing tonight. Nice suit.”

Max settled beside her and reaching for her hand, he kissed her fingers, his touch light. “You’re the one that looks dashing, my love.”

“How was your day?” Alex asked, withdrawing her hand. The car started to move and she gazed out the window. She loved this street. The hustle and bustle fed her energy. “Any more problems with Vera?”

Vera, his ex-wife, seemed hell-bent on harassing Max whenever she could. It was the main reason behind his decision to employ Alex, as he needed a buffer between them. As a fit, wealthy, and successful businessman in his sixties, he could still defend himself, but Vera was doing a lot of crazy things lately that made him uneasy. So he’d turned to Alex for help and so far, Vera seemed to be backing down.

Alex owned majority shares in a leading security agency in New York that specialized in executive personal security and safety for the rich and famous. A bodyguard, as she was more commonly known. Her good business sense and reputation, combined with her no-nonsense attitude, had made her company a hot topic amongst the circle of affluent people with whom Max dealt with and more and more of them seemed to be requiring her assistance.

Max tugged at his tie. “Who would’ve thought I’d need to hire a woman to get another woman off my back?”

“At least this woman doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.”

“No,” he teased, “just an arm.”

Alex laughed. “Hey, you got a quote first. You knew beforehand that I don’t do hand-outs.”

“And I’d do it all over again.”

She flashed him a genuine smile. “My protection is billed to you, but my friendship is free.”

Their eyes met and his smile matched hers. She knew that he appreciated their friendship—they both did. And despite their fondness for each other, they both knew that friendship was all they’d ever have. He liked the fact that she was protective of him, which made him feel good—even if that feeling came at a price—and she liked his company.

“Champagne?” he offered, holding up a bottle and two glasses.

“Thanks.” Alex accepted the glass and took a small sip. Tonight she wanted a clear head free from any alcohol-induced euphoria. “You never answered my question about Vera.”

“She’s called a few times, but I’ve avoided her.”

“She can’t like that.” Alex peered out of the window as the car started to slow down.

The auction house, Christie’s, shared the spotlight with Sotheby’s as being one of the main auction houses and it looked magnificent in its grandeur. The photographers were hustling around in anticipation at the entrance, cameras flashing as limos, mostly black and in different sizes, pulled to the curb.

This was something that had always amused Alex even though she had never really cared for the attention. These photographers were so intent on taking pictures of the rich and famous in order to sell their stories and photographs to magazines and newspapers that made a killing on sales the day following an event like this. The public loved to know who’d been where and with whom, almost as if it brought a little excitement to their mundane lives.

“Ready?”

“You look great, old man,” she said with an affectionate smile and allowed him to help her out of the car—even though she felt as though she should be the one helping him. He was after all, twice her age.

Blinding lights from several cameras surrounded them and Alex was quick to usher him inside. Technically, she wasn’t on duty tonight but the instinct to protect this benevolent man was as natural as breathing.

They headed straight to the exclusive bar for a drink and took a seat at the window, grateful for the one-way glass as it gave them a bird’s eye view of the commotion outside but prevented anyone outside from observing them.

“Did you get a call from Coleson Anderson this week?” Max asked after he’d ordered their drinks. “He called for a recommendation from me as to who I use for my personal security.”

“His secretary spoke to Myra and she’s set up an appointment for me to see him on Monday morning.” She paused, a wave of suspicion washing over her. “Why are you smiling like that?”

Max chuckled. “Because I failed to mention to Cole that Alex is indeed, a woman.”

“Come on, Max, you could’ve warned him.”

“Nah, I wanted him to find out for himself.” Max’s eyes danced with amusement and Alex couldn’t help but smile back at him. “He’s probably heard of you anyway, but I couldn’t resist anyhow. Many people you’ve met in the past have made the mistake and assumed that the Alex Foxley of Body Armor is a man. There wouldn’t be room for error if you used your full name, Alexis, my love.”

“I’ve been called Alex all my life, Max. Using my full name would sound odd.”

Max chuckled into his glass. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall come Monday morning.”

“Maxwell, you devious old man.”

“Speaking of the devil, he’s just walked in.”

Alex followed his gaze and studied the object of fascination at the entrance of the room. Cole Anderson—billionaire, philanthropist, and successful businessman. He was the owner of numerous properties worldwide as well as owner of Coleson Hotels, the most exclusive and sought-after hotel and resort chain throughout the world. Clearly, the tactics he used had been a success as the man oozed power and prestige as he moved across the room. There was a definite and bold presence about him that appealed to her.

“So that’s Coleson Anderson,” Alex breathed and sat back in her seat. Hm. He wore a black Armani suit with a crisp white shirt, short jet-black hair, and had a killer smile that charmed everyone he met.

And right now, he had his killer smile aimed in their direction.

Max nodded at Cole and waved him over. “Close your mouth, Alexis,” Max said, shooting her a saucy wink. “You’re drooling.”

“God, Max, you never told me he’s so gorgeous.”

“Yeah, he is something to look at, isn’t he?”

To her annoyance, her pulse started racing—and magnified with every step Cole took toward them. She had a vague suspicion that it had nothing to do with the champagne and everything to do with the man.

He was pure masculine beauty.

“Max, old friend,” Cole said, shaking Max’s hand and slapping him on the back. “I wondered if you’d make it tonight.”

“Wouldn’t miss a bidding war with you for anything in the world,” Max replied with a laugh.

“Ah, what’s an auction at Christy’s without some healthy competition?”

Max signaled to the waiter for more drinks. “Only problem is, you have more zeros available in your bank account.”

“Oh, I think you’ll do just fine.” Cole shifted his gaze to Alex, his eyes twinkling with undisguised interest.

Max cleared his throat and gestured to Alex. “My date, Alexis.”

Alex let the lack of a proper introduction slide, and tried not to squirm. What was up with her?

Cole’s eyes drew her in, curiosity crossing his expression for a brief moment before disappearing. He offered Alex a hand and a warm smile. “It’s about time Max attended an auction with some company other than mine.”

The waiter arrived and Max motioned to Cole. “Join us for a drink?”

“I’d never pass on the opportunity to scope out my competition.” Cole glanced at Alex and eased into the vacant chair.

“Cole’s known to have one of the best art collections in the world,” Max told Alex and leaned back in his seat, looking pleased.

“Really?” Alex knew Cole was an avid collector, but the details of his collection were sketchy.

Max nodded. “I’ve seen some of it. Impressive.”

Alex sipped her drink and leveled a casual look at Cole. “What do you collect?”

“Everything. Priceless paintings, ancient weapons and artillery, statues, tapestries, tablets, you name it.”

“If it’s expensive and worth collecting, Cole would have it,” Max said.

“Where do you keep your collection?”

“Scattered here and there.”

She doubted a man like him would scatter his priceless artifacts anywhere. No, they would all be placed and hung with meticulous care, and have top-notch security to ward off any interested art thieves.

Max was quick to add more details. “His Manhattan townhouse contains a few pieces, but it’s pretty sparse compared to some of his other estates.”

Alex nodded and sipped her drink, ignoring her previous decision to avoid alcohol for the night. She needed something stronger than determination to steady her nerves. “Do you often stay in New York?”

“When I have business here.” Cole glanced out of the window as another limo approached. “I have a house at Jupiter Island, just north of Palm Beach, that houses a large portion of my collection.”

Alex nodded. “Isn’t that where Celine Dion has a house?”

“A mansion would be a better choice of words,” Cole said with a smile. “Tiger Woods also owns an estate a couple of houses down from mine.”

“You’ve quite the neighbors.”

“It makes for interesting dinner conversation.”

And you’re quite the man.

“Anything in the catalogue that interests you?” Alex asked, in desperate need of a distraction from the male heat that radiated off him in waves.

Cole gave a casual shrug of his shoulders. “There are several pieces on auction tonight that have snagged my attention.”

“The Renoir?”

A small smile toyed at the corners of his lips. “What makes you say that?”

“A billionaire at an art auction with a rare Renoir painting up for grabs?” She arched an eyebrow. “Doesn’t take Einstein to figure out which direction your wallet will blow.”

A deep laugh rumbled through his body, rumbled through her. “You like Renoir?”

“Talented.”

“You like art?”

“Love it.”

Their gazes locked in mutual understanding and Alex felt her universe shrink. Damn, the man caused parts of her to flutter that hadn’t fluttered in a very long time.

She made a mental note to do some research on Coleson Anderson before she met with him on Monday morning. She would need to do some bona fide preparation to deal with all that testosterone. Hell yeah.

They turned their attention to the commotion at the door that indicated the start of the auction.

“Cole,” Max said, rising from the chair. “I look forward to our bidding war.”

Cole’s eyes flashed with amusement, but he took the bait and offered his hand. “May the best bidder win.”

They shook hands and made promises for lunch later in the week.

Cole turned to Alex, a silly grin on his face. “I look forward to seeing more of you, Alexis.”

Not trusting herself to speak, Alex gave him a brief smile and followed Max toward the auction room.

It was only then it dawned on her that she’d never formally introduced herself to Cole.

There was something to be said for sheer masculinity. Now that she’d had a refresher course of how a real man affected her, her insides were a mess.

Alex took her seat next to Max and scanned the room to observe the seated guests. It took some effort to focus on her reason for attending the auction.

So far, nothing had sparked her interest yet. Not that she’d paid much attention to her surroundings since Cole’s arrival.

A short bald man in his fifties stood up to the podium with a confident and welcoming smile and banged the gavel to get everyone’s attention. The tactic worked, the result instant as the excited murmurs fell away, leaving the room silent.

“Good evening, ladies, and gentlemen. We trust that you’ll have a pleasant experience with us tonight. Please keep in mind that we have Internet bidders, phone bidders, as well as several private bidders who will also be participating in tonight’s auction.”

“What’s the fun of an art auction if you can’t attend yourself?” Max murmured in Alex’s ear.

“They’re either unable to attend or wish to remain anonymous.”

With the alarmingly high rate of cat burglaries during the last year, more and more art collectors seem to favor their anonymity when purchasing artifacts.

“Have you decided what you’re bidding on?” Alex whispered and cast a glance at the catalogue in his hand.

He shifted his reading glasses and turned the page. “Edgar Degas,” he said softly and then leaned toward her so that only she could hear. “I find it amusing that you, of all people, are sitting here at an art auction of all places. The NYPD would have a field day.”