How Sweet It Is (20 page)

“I’d agree with that except that Abigail Potter loves her antiques more than anything. She’s more likely to let me finish and then inter me deep inside Westminster.”

“How romantic,” she joked, “being a prisoner of love.”

Finn ran his hands down her back and over the curve of her bottom. “She wouldn’t know how to hold me. I’d break free.”

Vi imagined that he’d break free of any woman, including herself. She ducked her head to kiss his chest so he wouldn’t see her sadness at that thought. Then she rolled out of the bed.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

“You may not be eager to get to work, but I am.” Rowdy and Luca were coming to help her paint today. First coat today, second coat in two days, and then she’d be able to start hanging the paintings. Right now, they were all carefully being stored in the spare bedroom downstairs.

She stepped into her shower and turned on the water. She’d just begun to lather her washcloth when Finn stepped in behind her.

His arms went around her, taking the bar of soap and washcloth from her. “Let me.”

“I’m running late,” she protested, but she gave them up, resting her head back against his shoulder. She could feel him hardening, and she hummed. Maybe she could put off getting on her way for a few more minutes.

He slid the washcloth across her shoulders and neck, slow and thorough. He lowered it over her breasts, his finger following to plump her nipples.

She gasped, surprised by the sharpness of the feeling.

“Sensitive?” he asked, lightening his touch, his thumb gliding over her softer.

She nodded. “That’s nice though.”

He continued to play with the tips as he slid the washcloth lower, between her legs. Dropping the cloth onto the tiles, he replaced it with his hand, his fingers slipping and sliding all over her.

“I’m sure I’m clean,” she joked, spreading her legs to give him space.

“I like to be thorough.” He pressed his head to her temple and whispered in her ear. “Bend over, Viola.”

Her heart jumped at the command. She braced her palms on the tiled wall in front of her, breathing harder when she felt his hardness slide between her legs from behind.

He eased in slowly, both of them moaning. She was sensitive and swollen from the night, and feeling him thrust in and out made her hands fist on the wall. “Please,” she begged.

“What do you want, love? This?” He focused his touch exactly where she needed it.

“Yes.” She gasped, arching into him. The way his finger moved over her was agony she never wanted to end. She pushed against his hips. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he said, kissing her neck and holding her tighter. “I won’t ever,” he promised as they both exploded.

***

Rowdy stood with a hand on his hip and the other holding a paintbrush. “You’re awfully bubbly today.”

Vi smiled brightly as she opened a can of paint. “It’s shaping up in here.”

“Uh-huh.” Her friend gave her a disbelieving look. Then he turned to Luca. “Doesn’t she look radiant?”

“
Cara
, you always look radiant,” the Italian vowed, smiling from the ladder where he was finishing taping the trim.

In his rolled up light green pants and Polo shirt, Luca looked more like he was vacationing on the Riviera rather than helping paint a gallery. Vi knew him well enough to know that these actually were work clothes for him. She also knew of the three of them, he was the most likely to escape untainted by paint splatters.

Rowdy, however, was in a torn T-shirt, holey jeans, and the rattiest trainers in London. He looked ready for business.

Right now, his business appeared to be her, because his gaze narrowed on her. “I’m serious. You look weird.”

“Weird how?” She mixed the bucket of paint.

“Happy,” he replied, his face scrunched.

“Oh, the horror,” she said mockingly, pouring paint into a tray for herself.

“I’m serious, babe.” He took the paint bucket from her and quickly filled the other trays. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m opening a gallery.” And she’d been truly and completely loved all night and morning. Each step she took reminded her of the episode in the shower, which had ended with an encore in bed. On top of that, she’d finished everything on her list, including the interview, which she’d sent to Sebastian along with her artist chart. So, yes, she was happy. “You want to start with the walls in here? I can start at the back.”

“Are all the walls white?” Luca said with a slight wrinkle to his nose.

“The better to show off the artwork.”

“It’s your space,
cara
. I’m a mere laborer.” He put a hand to his chest. “But perhaps I can recommend one wall as an accent.”

“Of what color?”

“Black,” he said unequivocally. He pointed to the one wall that faced the door when one walked in. “That one.”

She pictured the wall black and with the painting Finn had done of Jasmine hanging on it. It was so right that she had to clench her fists at her sides not to physically jump up and down. “Luca, you’re right,” she said as calmly as she could.

“
Si, certo
.” He shrugged as though it was a given.

“Don’t paint that wall, then. I’ll get some black paint for it.” And hope that Finn would let her use the painting in her show. She took her tray to the back and began on her section.

One wall done, the fumes started to make her feel nauseous, so she set her brush down and went to prop open the back door. When she went around to the front door to open it, too, a black car pulled up. Vi recognized the suited driver, who hopped out to help the passenger out of the back. Bea’s long leg stretched out of the back, following by the other leg and her perfectly clothed body.

Her sister smiled at her driver Nigel as she ended her call. “I have good news, darling,” she said as she embraced Vi.

“Tell me.”

“I have the best date for your gallery opening,” she said as she entered the building. She stopped abruptly as she saw Luca to the right.

Luca had seen
her
though. The Italian had radar where Bea was concerned.

Holding Bea’s arm, Vi smiled brightly to cover up the awkwardness of the two of them glaring at each other. “Luca and Rowdy are helping me paint.”

“I see that.” She gave the Italian another look before turning her back on him. When she smiled, it was brittle. “I have the perfect date for your gallery opening.”

There was a snarl from the right.

Vi glanced at Luca, wondering if she’d imagined it.

“I asked Stuart Covington to come with me, and he said yes.” Bea smiled. “It’s great news, isn’t it?”

“Isn’t he the one who hates all gallery openings?” Vi put a hand to her forehead, feeling faint.

“Yes, but he’s going to love yours,” her sister said firmly. She took her hand. “Don’t start to doubt yourself now. You’re doing this.”

“Yes.” She swallowed back the nausea, which was suddenly worse.

Bea frowned. “You look pale. Are you well?”

Rowdy snorted. “Well, you just sprung news of an art critic on her. Her butterflies are probably the size of 747s.”

Vi shook her head. “I think it’s just the fumes from the paint.”

Someone cleared his throat at the front door.

They all turned, but it was Vi who said, “
Charles?
What are you doing here?”

His nose wrinkled as he surveyed the space.

Bea stepped forward, fight in her eyes. Vi took her sister’s arm and shook her head imperceptibly. Her sister’s eyes narrowed, but she stood down.

Luca came to stand at Bea’s back, Vi wasn’t sure if it was to restrain her in case she charged or to attack alongside her. Rowdy stood where he was, his arms crossed so his biceps bulged. Not even the streak of white paint across his cheek detracted from his menace.

Charles eyed the group, smiling cautiously. “Apparently I’ve interrupted a work party. Perhaps I can help?”

“You’ll get your clothes dirty.” If there was anything he hated, it was untidiness.

“I don’t mind.”

Bea raised her eyebrows. “But will Louise mind?”

Vi pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh. “I appreciate the offer, Charles,” she managed to say with a straight face, “but we have plenty of hands here.”

“And your boyfriend probably doesn’t feel comfortable with me here.” He looked at Luca, challenge in his eyes.

Luca smiled like a wolf. Moving with fluid grace, he stepped alongside Vi and snaked his arm around her waist. “Now I understand,
cara
. No wonder you’re so starved.”

She flashed Charles her most insincere smile. “Perhaps you should go. We have it under control, as you can see.”

“Yes.” He glared at Luca and then backed out of the gallery. But then he stopped and faced her. “We should have dinner this week. There are things I need to discuss with you regarding Chloe.”

“Chloe?” She frowned. “What about Chloe?”

“We’ll discuss it during dinner.” He gave her a disapproving look and then left.

“What an asshole,” Rowdy said once the door closed. “Babe, I’m going to chalk up that mistake to being young. Now you’d know better.”

Bea tugged Vi out of Luca’s arms and soothed her hair. “Are you all right?”

“What did he mean about Chloe?” She looked at Rowdy. “Do you know something I don’t?”

He held his hands out. “The kid’s all good, as far as I can tell. She’s curious about boys, but she’s got a good head on her shoulders. Don’t let that jerk make you think something’s wrong.”

“Rowdy’s right,” Luca said with a certain nod. “My mother was the best, and you are even better.”

Tears sprang unbidden in her eyes. “That’s very sweet. Thank you.”

Bea put an arm around her. “Charles is only trying to control you. He’s pushing the only buttons he can still reach.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. Instead she inhaled the paint fumes.

They went straight to her head, and her vision began to swim. She felt herself weave right there on her feet, a buzzing in her ears.

“Vi?” Bea took her arm and pushed her onto something that felt like a bucket.

“Breathe,” Rowdy commanded, his hand holding her head low between her legs.

The blood slowly returned to her head, but she still felt faint. Every time she smelled the paint, a wave of nausea came over her.

“You okay, babe?” Rowdy asked.

“Yes.” She straightened her shoulders and lifted her head.

“You’re still pale,” Bea said, sounding accusing. She put a hand to her forehead. “You feel cold rather than warm. Have you been eating?”

“Yes,” she lied. Truthfully, she’d been too busy to eat this morning—and last night. With Finn around, her thoughts hadn’t been on food, and this morning she’d been focused on work.

“Maybe you need to lie down.” Bea looked at the men. “She’s going to worry if this place isn’t painted.”

“No worries, babe.” Rowdy glanced at Luca, who nodded. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Then I’ll take her home.”

“No.” Vi started to stand, but she felt her stomach pitch again. She eased back down, her arms around her middle.

“Yes.” Bea pulled out her mobile and with a brief call, her car pulled around front. “Can you walk, or do you need help?”

“I’m fine,” she lied. She looked at the men as she stood. “You really don’t mind doing this on your own?”

“Nah.” Rowdy smiled at her reassuringly. “We’ll get beer and talk about the women we’ve bagged. It’s all good.”

Bea rolled her eyes. “They’re fine, Vi. Let’s take you home so you can rest.”

“Maybe I have a flu or something,” she said on her way to the car. “It came on so suddenly.”

“Likely it was Charles. He’s enough to make anyone sick.” Bea made a face. “Poor Chloe.”

Chloe
. She gripped her sister’s arm.

“Don’t worry,” Bea said, helping her into the car. “I’ll pick her up and bring her home.”

“Thank you.” She relaxed against the plush seat in the back and closed her eyes, trying to keep from vomiting in Bea’s fancy car.

She thanked her sister when they arrived at her house as quickly as possible and rushed in. She made it to her bathroom just in time, and then she dragged herself to her bed. Sinking under the covers, she closed her eyes and hoped a nap would make this bug go away.

Chapter Twenty-three

“You filled out nicely.”

Finn glanced at Jasmine, who was sitting on the closed toilet seat next to him. “What are you doing in my bathroom again?”

“Watching you as you clean up for your date.” She handed him a towel. “I’m being useful.”

“That’s overstating it.” He took the towel to dry off his face.

She studied him as he checked his jaw in the mirror to make sure he’d gotten all the rough whiskers. “You were scrawny when we were kids,” she said. “Where did the muscles come from? I have a hard time seeing you work out.”

“Jas, I find your inspection of my body disturbing. How would you feel if the tables were turned? You filled out
nicely
,” he said in a low voice, leering at her.

She laughed. “You need to work on being dodgy, darling.”

“That’s a goal in my life.” He reached for his shirt.

“That’s not what you’re wearing.”

He glanced at her as he buttoned it up. “Why not?”

“Where are you taking Viola? McDonalds?” Jasmine marched out of the bathroom.

Finn followed her to find her rooting through his clothing. “Good Lord, Finn,” his friend said. “When did you start dressing like a lumberjack? You live in Paris. Some of their sartorial splendor should have rubbed off on you.”

“Viola’s never complained about my shirts,” he said as he put on the one Jasmine handed him.

“Likely she’s more intent on taking your shirt off.” Jasmine pursed her lips. “What’s underneath is quite compelling. If you weren’t like my brother, I might be tempted by it.”

“Might?” He raised his brow as he sat on the bed to put on his shoes.

Jasmine shrugged. “You aren’t my type.”

“You have a type?”

“According to Father I do.” Her lips twisted in a semblance of a smile. “He says I like trouble.”