Fearless (The Story of Samantha Smith #1) (25 page)

Was he doing that snake charmer thing Kamiko talked about? I kind of liked it. “Thank you, Brandon. Maybe you can sell me tonight, and put a red dot on me too.” Boy, I was at least two sheets to the wind. Maybe not three, but close.

“No one here has that kind of money,” he smiled slowly.

“Not even you?” I flirted.

“No, not even the richest man on the planet.”

“Isn’t that Bill Gates? He’s pretty rich.”

“Well, I wouldn’t let him buy you. No matter how much he offered. Beauty like yours can never be bought.”

“That’s sweet, Brandon.” Yeah, those were snake charmer eyes. He ran a gentle hand down the side of my arm.
 

Chills swirled under my skin and jumped across my chest, ricocheting between my breasts. I realized my breath had stopped. I giggled and took a deep breath. How drunk was I? I must’ve had more wine than I realized.
 

Screw it, snake charmer be damned. Brandon was hot. And I was single. I giggled at him coquettishly.

“Hey, Brandon,” Tiffany said. Where the F had she come from? She had radar, I was sure of it. She looped her arms around Brandon’s neck. She stood on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek. Then she glared at me. I was waiting for her to hike her skirt and mark her territory. “Hey,” she said to me dismissively.

“I was just telling Sam here that I’d sold the last painting,” Brandon said.

“That’s awesome, Brandon.” She seemed genuinely excited. “Now you and me can go out and celebrate!”

Great. Tiffany had already warned me off Christos. Now she was laying claim to Brandon? Did she date both of them, or just not want me to have either, so she could pick and chose?

“I have
got
to go to the ladies room,” she bitched. “I’ve been standing in front of that painting of mine for two hours in these heels. Pardon me, you two.” She smiled her false smile and pranced off.

“My apologies for her behavior,” Brandon said. “Tiffany tends to be a bit high strung.”

“She seemed pretty comfortable with you. Do you guys have a history? Or is it a story still in the making?”

Brandon chuckled and shook his head. “Yes and no.”

I repressed a smile.
 

“Tiffany and I have known each other since childhood. Our fathers are good friends. In recent years, she’s hinted several times that she and I should date. But I value my relationship with my father too much to put him through hell. And I wouldn’t want to jeopardize my father’s relationship with Tiffany’s dad.”

I guess Tiffany wasn’t the polished picture of perfection she liked to present. I secretly hoped Brandon would pull out a shovel and start digging up more dirt about her, but I wasn’t going to come right out and ask. But if he wanted to use just a teaspoon, I’d take that.

“Tiffany and I have always been,” he raised his eyebrows suggestively, “and will continue to be, nothing more than good friends. Therefore, I’m entirely single. Are you?”

 
I looked into his dreamy hazel eyes. “Yes,” I nodded. He was so fricking handsome and refined. And from the sound of it, he’d given Bitchany the stop sign long ago. Whoopee!

“Hey, Brandon,” Christos said as he patted Brandon’s shoulder from behind.
 

“There you are, Christos!” Brandon faced him.

For a moment I couldn’t tell if Brandon was actually excited about Christos’ sudden presence, or slightly disappointed.

Christos glanced at me, but directed his question at Brandon. “How are sales?”
 

“Everything’s sold. Congratulations,” he grinned. “I was looking for you to tell you the good news. Well done, my friend.”

Brandon shook his hand vigorously.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Christos said. “I’m all out of sell for tonight.”

“You were working it tonight. Mrs. Moorhouse needed a bib, she was drooling so much.”

“One of those lobster ones,” Christos joked. “She was ready to dig into me with a knife and fork.”

Brandon chuckled while he scanned the main room. The gallery was still half full of people.

“Well, I’m stuck here until everyone’s gone so I can close up the gallery, but I thought I would ask Samantha here if she wanted to get a drink after I locked up?” He gave me a hopeful look.

Did I see Christos’ nostrils flare when Brandon called me Samantha? I think I did.
 

“Oh man, I’d already told Sam and her friends that I’d take them out for drinks tonight,” Christos lied casually. “They’re all student artists at SDU and wanted to talk shop with me after the show. I promised them weeks ago.”

He had told me no such thing. Had he told Romeo or Kamiko? He couldn’t have. Kamiko said she just found out about the show.

One of Brandon’s brows lifted casually. “You don’t say.”

“Yeah. Sorry, man. Sam and I should probably head out. It’s getting late.”

Brandon and Christos exchanged a tense look.

Did I sense a rivalry here? Between the two of them? Over little old me? This was too much. All they needed were some shooting irons and some cowboy hats. Then the survivor could claim his prize. Men. I wasn’t anybody’s prize. But it sure was exciting.

The real question was, how did I manage to put myself in the epicenter of epic drama everywhere I went?

“Pardon me, I didn’t mean to interfere with your plans,” Brandon said pleasantly.

“Yeah, I don’t want to keep her out too late. I know Sam has a busy day tomorrow, so we should probably go.”

Christos didn’t know what I had planned for tomorrow. But that was fine with me.
 

I sighed apologetically. “Yeah, I can’t stay out too late tonight. I’ve got a really busy schedule,” I mimicked.

Brandon smiled at both of us. “I understand. Have a terrific time, you two. Please say your goodbyes to the guests before departing, Christos. Mrs. Moorhouse is still here.”
 

“I’ll do that,” Christos assured.

Without warning, Brandon took my hand and kissed it. “It was a pleasure meeting you tonight, Samantha.” He lowered his lashes and gazed at me through hooded eyes. Snake charmer.

Christos tugged on my arm. “Good night, Brandon. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can go over the sales from tonight.”

“Excellent idea. Have fun, and good night.”

Chapter 16

It took me a few minutes to round up Romeo and Kamiko while Christos gave his goodbyes. The two of them were in the sculpture garden.

“Where were you! We’ve been looking all over for you,” Romeo said.

“I thought Mr. Snake Charmoneau had gotten you,” Kamiko said.

I giggled. “I think I would’ve been okay with that.”

“Whorish bitch! You’re taking all the good men,” Romeo joked.

I laughed. “Poor Romeo.”

“We should go,” Kamiko said.

We walked back through the gallery, out to the street.

Christos was waiting outside. “Hey, you guys. Ready to go?” He cocked a brow expectantly.

“Oh, uh…” I looked at Christos. “You were serious?” What happened to him being only my mentor? I almost blurted it out loud, but didn’t want to say it in front of everyone. I’d look like as much of a bitch as I had on the hillside by Christos’ house. “Did you still want to get drinks?”

He cocked his grin. “Of course. I have to celebrate my sell-out show with somebody.”

“Can they come?” I motioned toward Kamiko and Romeo.

“Of course.”

“Drinks?” Romeo said. “Nobody told me anything about drinks!”

“I’m pretty tired, Romeo.” Kamiko said. “I’d sort of like to go.”

“Party pooper. Didn’t you set up your TiVo to record whatever show that’s on Cartoon Network that can’t be missed?”

“Yes, but I’m still tired. I’m sorry.”

“Fine, we can go. Sam, you coming?”

I spread my hands, shrugged my shoulders and gave Christos a non-committal look.

“I can give you a ride,” Christos offered.

I turned to Romeo. I noticed the wheels turning in his head as he surveyed the situation. He abruptly put his hands on Kamiko and turned her around, pushing her down the sidewalk. “We’ve really got to be going. Poor Kamiko is half-asleep already. You guys have fun without us! Good night!”

They were gone, before I could protest.

I turned to Christos. “Romeo’s crazy.”

“I like that guy. Shall we?” He motioned down the street. “There’s a great bar around the corner from here.”

A pained look twisted my face. “I’m only nineteen.”

“My mistake. At least you’re legal,” he smirked.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t have stopped you if I wasn’t.”

“I do have
some
boundaries,” he smiled.

“You sure?” I quipped.

“Please, Samantha. I’m not a criminal.”

An image of him being handcuffed and stuffed into a police car flashed in my mind. From the look that passed over Christos’ face, I’m pretty sure he was thinking the same thing.

“There’s some coffee shops in Pacific Beach that stay open all night. We can go there.”

“Okay.”

He motioned. “This way,”

We walked.

“So, uh, where’s your car?” I asked.

“Car? Right here.” We stood in front of his black motorcycle.
 

“What? This?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” I pulled my cell phone out of my tiny clutch purse. “I better call Romeo before they leave.”

“Don’t worry. I brought an extra helmet.” He held it up.

“Oh, no that’s okay. I’d rather not.”

“You worried?”

“No, it’s just that—”

“You’re worried.”

Hell yeah I was worried!

“You’ll be fine. I’ll go slow.”

If my mom and dad knew I was about to climb on a motorcycle, driven by a guy covered in tattoos, they’d ground me all the way from Washington D.C. “I really can’t.”

“Come on. If you hold on tight, you’ll be perfectly safe.”

Hold on? To what? Him? This was going in a dangerous direction quickly. I was least worried about the accident part of the equation. It was the holding part that made me nervous. He handed me the helmet.

“Put your hair up in the helmet, or else you’ll spend all night getting the tangles out.”

I knotted my hair in a bun and squished the helmet on. He straddled the bike.

“I can’t get on.” My dress was too short and my heels too tall.

He climbed off and in one swift motion picked me up by the waist and lowered me onto the back of the bike. How strong was this guy? He lifted me like I was a kitten. I yanked my dress down and shoved the hem under my crotch. This was the wrong outfit for a motorcycle ride.

He climbed back onto the bike and started the engine. It thrummed between my legs.
 

“Hold on tight.”

Um, my nearly non-existent dress and panties where all that stood between me and him. Good gracious, this was close quarters. I made sure my crotch was at least two inches from Christos’ butt. “Where do I put my feet?”

“On the pegs.”

I found them beneath me. My heels hooked over them nicely. The only problem? My two inch gap between me and his hot butt was now a single inch.

“Get a good grip.”

“What?”

“With your arms.”

I reached around. “Where do I put them?”

“Around my waist.”

What? I couldn’t do that!

“You don’t want to fall off, do you?”

“No.” I wrapped my arms around him. I had two choices. Chest or abs. Neither was exactly what I’d call platonic. I settled for high abs. It was farther from his package. Why did I have to go and use that word?

He reached behind me and pulled me into him, obliterating my one-inch safety gap. I don’t know how I was going to keep my dress tucked beneath me.
 

“I don’t want you sliding off.”

Good to know. The front of my pelvis pressed against his buns. Oh gawd. I was touching his buns. With my hips and thighs. I hadn’t signed up for this. Check please! Time for me to go.

He revved the engine. “Ready?”

“No!”

He laughed. “As long as you hold onto me, you’ll be safe. I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart. You can trust me, Samantha. I’ll always keep you safe.”

What did he just say? Was he talking about the motorcycle ride? Or something more.

“Don’t worry, Samantha. I’ll keep it below the speed limit.”

What he failed to tell me was that he would accelerate to the speed limit faster than the speed of light! Holy shit!

My arms locked in a death grip around his ribs. I squeezed my thighs around his waist as tightly as possible.
 

When we slowed for a red light, I was breathless. “Uh, are you sure you’re not going too fast?”

“Never passed twenty-five.”

Until we were on the freeway. When we hit the onramp, I think booster rockets popped out the back of his motorcycle. I swear we were going two thousand miles an hour.
 

I had heard that speed was sort of like orgasm. I’d never really had a big orgasm on my own. Just little ones. Whatever this speed thing was, it was way bigger.
 

I don’t know if it was the way my knees clutched Christos’ sides, or the feel of his abs beneath my arms, or the fact that the bike vibrated between my legs and my lady parts were right on the seat. But all of it sent me over the edge into uncharted waters. What concerned me most though, were the uncharted waters possibly leaking through my panties. Holy crap, this motorcycle was fast.

At one point, I felt the distinct desire to let go. I freaked out, imagining myself flying off the back of the motorcycle and sliding skin-first along the freeway.

That quickly ended any potentially orgasmic thoughts I’d been having.

I also believed that I had not yet breathed once since we got on the freeway, so I took a moment to inhale deeply. I felt Christos pat my hand reassuringly. Did that mean he’d taken a hand off the handle bars? Jesus, he was crazy! Thankfully, he released my hand.

Eventually I noticed we weren’t passing any cars. So our speed was probably no more than sixty five or seventy.

I made the mistake of glancing down at the blacktop screaming by. If I were to take my peep-toed heels off the pegs, or if they were to accidentally fall off of their own accord, my toes would be literally ground right down to my ankles.