Platinum (Facets of Passion) (12 page)

These were her people—she recognized nearly every face—her extended social family from her earliest days when she spied on her parents’ parties from the stairwell. She was no longer that little girl, however. Especially with her body humming from Steel’s limo games. He’d reminded her the driver could see her face, then worked his hand up her skirt to lightly torment her pussy, leaving her to stare out the window and practice her best cool expression.

If his goal had been to distract her from her nervousness, as it seemed to have been since she agreed to bring him as her date, he’d succeeded. At least temporarily.

Steel’s hand settled on the small of her back, warm and protective. She glanced up and he smiled at her. “Doing okay?”

“Yes. Fine.” Ironic that he was supposed to be the fish out of water here, in the midst of her tribe. Yet he looked completely at ease, unbearably handsome in his tux, taking in the scene with his characteristic enthusiasm. It was because he was totally comfortable with himself, she realized. He had found his way and was ashamed of nothing at all. He didn’t care what all these people thought of him—and that gave him the freedom to just enjoy. A freedom she’d never had.

Or that she’d never taken. He was right that she cared too much about these things.

He rubbed her back a little. “Want something from the bar?”

“Yes, some champagne—oh, good lord, here come my parents already. Gird your loins.”

“If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you gird them for me later.”

Her mother swept up, catching her mid-giggle. “Althea, sweetheart!” Hyacinth Taylor Grant embraced her in a cloud of Chanel, her touch as wispy as a breath of dandelion fuzz. “You look…well, I was going to say you shouldn’t be wearing black, but you look quite radiant. And who is this handsome young man?” Her mother slid her a brief questioning glance, far too socially savvy to wonder aloud what had become of Brandon.

“Mother, I’d like for you to meet Steel—he’s a sculptor and painter.”

“Delighted to meet you, Mrs. Grant.” Steel took her hand in both of his and flashed her that dazzling smile.

“Call me Bootsie—everyone does,” her mother cooed. “Is our Althea carrying your work at Chalkstone? I should stop in to visit. I’ve just been ever so busy planning this event! I swear every year I’ll give up the responsibility, but then they just
beg
me to stay on and I just can’t say no… What happened to your father? I swear he was just behind me. Hunch! Come meet Althea’s new young man.”

“Hunch?” Steel asked quietly, moving closer and taking her hand.

“Old nickname—he used to play football at Clemson,” she whispered back.

“Hunch and Bootsie, huh?”

“Hush.” She elbowed him and her father stepped up, front and center, pumping Steel’s hand.

“Benjamin Grant. Good to meet you.”

“Hunch, this is Steel…I didn’t catch your last name, sugar?”

“McReady,” Steel answered, his lips quirking as he sensed her surprise, though he didn’t look at her. “Mike McReady, actually. But everyone calls me Steel.” He winked at Bootsie, who visibly fluttered in pleasure and then pursed her lips in thought.

“Mike McReady? That name sounds familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“You might, ma’am.”

“You won one of my art scholarships, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thanks to your foundation. You changed my life.”

Bootsie playfully tapped Steel’s muscled arm with her folded lace fan. “And now you’re a successful artist being shown by the best gallery in town. You should be our poster boy. Tell me about your work.”

Althea was just as glad Steel hadn’t had time to get her the flute of champagne she’d been about to request, because surely she would have snapped the stem by now.

“Actually, Mother, I—”

“How is Chalkstone faring?” Her father frowned at her and she found herself shrinking back, only Steel’s firm hand at her waist stopping her. “Stan mentioned that you might be having financial issues.”

“I’m handling it, Daddy.” She tried to sound crisp and firm, despite the betrayed anger boiling up inside.

His calculating glance flicked to Steel and back to her. “That’s not what I’m hearing. I just don’t understand how you could be in this fix.”

“Oh Ben—not here. Let’s get these kids some drinks!”

“Good idea, Boots. You go. Steel, why don’t you help her?”

“Thanks, but I’ll stay, sir.”

“No.” Althea turned and put a hand on Steel’s forearm, steadying herself with the feel of the corded muscle beneath. “Go help my mom. Please.”

He studied her briefly and nodded. “As you say, Miss Althea.” He brushed a kiss over her mouth before she thought to stop him, and offered his arm gallantly to her mother. “Shall we, Lady Bootsie?”

Her lips burned where he’d kissed her, like a scarlet badge. Her father swirled his whiskey in his glass, face impassive. “He’s not exactly marriage material.”

“I’m not exactly in the marriage market,” she shot back.

“What
are
you in the market for? Christ, Althea, it’s not like you’re a young woman anymore! When are you going to make something of yourself?”

“Oh, and getting married and popping out babies would qualify?”

“At least you’d be less likely to screw that up too.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? We gave you every advantage with that gallery—told you exactly how to set it up for this market. Every predictor showed guaranteed success. Only an idiot could have blown that. And now your trust fund is gone, you’re not married, you have no profession. Tell me, what exactly
is
your plan that doesn’t include me supporting an old maid when I should be enjoying my retirement?”

“I have never asked you to support me,” she hissed. “And Stan had no right to tell you my business.”

“That’s what families do—take care of each other. We love you.”

Murder
with
smiles
on
their
faces
.

Steel placed a flute of champagne in her hand and she clutched it, close to dashing the contents in her father’s face. Her mother threaded her arm through her husband’s, chattering brightly about the elegant manners of the nice young bartender and how this year’s catering company was
so
much better than last year’s debacle.

Althea held her father’s gaze, determined not to back down this time. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Mother, if you’d like to help me redesign the gallery. A new color scheme.”

Bootsie clapped her hands in delight while a frown creased her husband’s forehead.

“I need to do it in time for a reception and solo exhibition in a month, to showcase Steel’s brilliant art.” She cast a questioning glance up at Steel, who grinned at her. She raised her flute in a toast to her father. “All my indicators tell me he’s going to take the town by storm.”

“Oh! We’re so excited for you, sweetheart. Aren’t we, Hunch?”

Her father opened his mouth and Bootsie nudged him sharply, so he simply nodded, rewarded by a loving kiss from his wife.

“I think we’ll mingle then.” Althea slipped her arm through Steel’s. “Come with me. There are people I’d like you to meet.”

“Lead the way, princess.”

Her body emptied of all that impotent rage as they walked away, leaving her full of glittering determination.

“I thought you only called me that in the basement.”

“Everybody else seems to have a nickname. Why not you?”

She didn’t know. She’d always been Althea. Or Thea. No fun alter-ego for her.

Steel’s lips brushed her cheek, sending a sensual shiver through her. “You were something to see there, princess. All hot and bothered. Makes me want to tie you up and do wicked things to you.”

She slanted him a look. “You always want to do that.”

“True enough,” he cheerfully agreed. “Want me to kick that Stan’s ass for you? Or just hold your purse while you do it?”

She laughed and tossed back the rest of her champagne. He set her empty flute on a nearby tray, took her hands. “Seriously. Are you sure you want to show my work—major change for the gallery?”

“Yes.” She squeezed his hands. “You know how you said you had too much mad in you, until you channeled it into something you cared about?”

He nodded, rubbing soothing fingers over her palms.

“Well, I think I didn’t have enough mad. I might have found some of it now.”

“Princess—you have enough passion for ten women. I’ve seen it.”

Yes. She’d seen it, too, in his paintings of her. Wild and alive and wanting. “Yes. And I’ve found something worth fighting for. Several somethings, in fact.”

Chapter Twelve

She had fun at the ball, after that.

Their dinner table included Abby and her date, who knew nothing about art, but at least knew nothing about banking, either. Steel entertained everyone with his wry wit, and Abby kept giving her
looks
that meant they’d need to dish soon.

After dinner Steel swept her onto the dance floor—and kept her there. He left her breathless, spinning through song after song with surprisingly effortless style. For the first time she understood why churches wanted to forbid dancing. Moving with him to music felt so much like sex that she found herself forgetting they were surrounded by other couples and that she shouldn’t be contemplating getting her hands on his skin.

“Is there anything you don’t do well?” The slow dance let her wrap her arms around his neck and toy with the little curls at the base of his neck. Already a shade of beard showed on his jaw.

He pretended to think. “Nope.” And laughed when she tugged the curls. Then he looked thoughtful. “You’ve already seen it—my bad side. When I push too hard and don’t think and things just kind of…” He shrugged restlessly. “Things get away from me. But you help with that.”

“I do?”

“Yes. You smooth all those sharp edges and rough corners. Just when I’m likely to melt it all down, you come in like a cool breeze.”

A swell of love warmed her, filling the empty spaces in her heart.

“Also, I can make a soufflé.”

“A soufflé? Really?”

“I swear they gave us classes in everything—anything to keep us occupied and not thinking up ways to get into trouble.” He rolled his eyes. “Most useless skill ever and I never said it tastes any good. I guess they thought it would teach us patience.”

She laid her cheek on his lapel, keenly aware of the nipple ring hidden beneath. “I’ll never catch up with such an eclectic education.”

Dipping his head to whisper in her ear, he ran his tongue along the sensitive shell. “You seem to be a fast learner to me. I’m always happy to offer lessons—in anything that catches your fancy.”

She shivered, though his insinuation made the heat rise, and tipped her head back to look up at him. “This time it’s you who has to sit still in the limo.”

His hands flexed around her back, pulling her close so she could feel his erection. “Does that mean you’re ready to blow this place?”

“Yes.” She licked her lips. “And something else too.”

Steel nearly dragged her out of there, barely letting her say her goodbyes. Turned out tormenting him in the limo was even more fun than dancing.

* * *

A month later, Althea reopened the gallery and reintroduced herself to the world.

The room was packed with far from the usual gallery crowd. Hipsters in their studied black contrasted nicely with the jewel-tone walls. College students mingled with a number of European tourists. More than one society matron had given her the hairy eyeball and departed in a huff. And quite a few of the ladies who lunch had looked shocked, giggled, and then took another turn to get a better look at Steel’s seductive art. She’d also sold three pieces and taken five inquiries for commissions.

Steel stood across the room amidst a pack of giddy young women. No surprise there. He was talking about the satyr, rampant under the gleaming lights, sex incarnate. They were enraptured. He’d wanted to add more, to display images of that sculpture’s prurient uses, but she’d reined him back. Dancing on the edge of imagination.

Her father had “other business” to attend to, but Bootsie bustled about, flushed with her daughter’s triumph, in her element berating the caterers.

Already she’d found—or had recommended to her—several other artists to show. All raw, visceral and shouting of life.

Nothing of hers, yet. But maybe soon.

“Well, look at you.” Abby pressed a flute of champagne into her hand and slid an arm around her waist. “Owner of the hottest gallery in town and smiling like the cat who ate the canary.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a mixed metaphor.” Althea laughed.

Abby clinked her own flute against Althea’s. “Okay, the cat who ate the hottie artist—or who’s planning to later.”

“Now that’s entirely possible.” Althea leaned her head against Abby’s dark curls and surveyed the crowd. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“I can’t believe that’s you in the paintings in the other room. Who knew you have such great tits?”

Althea groaned, elbowing her friend. “Don’t make it worse.”

“Where’s Cheri? Shouldn’t she be screwing around somewhere?”

“She decided to seek greener pastures.” Althea sipped her champagne. “After I told her I’d only pay her for the hours she was actually here.”

Abby barked out a laugh, eyes sparkling. “Now
that
is the second best business decision you’ve made lately.”

“And the first?”

“Following your passion. I stand in awe, Thea, honey. This, all of this, is amazing. And you’re painting again, I just—” Abby’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m just so happy for you.”

“Me too.” Althea raised her glass to Steel, who caught her eye with a smoldering look and blew a kiss in her direction. “I’m happy for me.”

* * * * *

In the mood for more erotic BDSM romance?
Then check out the first book in the Facets of Passion series,
Sapphire
, available now!

Sapphire

A successful executive, M. Taylor Hamilton is on track with her ten-year plan. Too bad her personal life consists of hitting the gym and grocery shopping. Enter the seductive Adam Kirliss. They may have a working relationship, but everything changes at an office party when he handcuffs her to the rail of a yacht.

Taylor writes off the adventure as too much champagne, but when Adam challenges her to a date, she agrees to meet up with him. And follow his rules. They share a night of exquisite intimacy, brimming with both pain and pleasure. But afterward, fearful of losing her heart, Taylor pulls back emotionally.

Adam is determined to prove that she longs for the loss of control he can give her—and the passionate release it provides. How can he make her see that he wants
her
, and not just her body?

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