Release (10 page)

“It’s a
beautiful watercolor.  You’re very talented, Ryann.  I’m honored that
I got to see it, even if it wasn’t by your choice.  Although, my mom may
not be happy I’ve seen it since you promised her she would be the first to see
your work,” he said teasingly.

She smiled, and
looked at the red flower.  “This is stunning, Jeremy.  Thank
you.”  She was touched.

“It made me
think of you.  I didn’t want to get you a white one like in the
painting.  When I think of you, I think of vibrancy and passion. 
White would’ve been too, I don’t know, bland or subdued.  I don’t want you
subdued.  I want you wild.  Warm and alive.  Like this flower.”

She didn’t know
what to say.  He obviously didn’t know the story behind the painting of
the white iris, and she was struck by the irony of the moment.  The white
flower had been given to her by Brent after their first date.  Now this
unique and passionate red one had been given to her after the first time she
had met Jeremy.  He was right.  She didn’t want the white iris to be
a description of her anymore.  She wanted more in her life, and the red
one made her feel exhilarated, sensual, erotic…and hopeful.  Knowing he
saw her that way thrilled her.

She cleared her
throat, and pushed her hair behind her ear.

“Tomorrow is
graduation?” he asked.

“Yes.  It’s
been a long couple of weeks with packing and grading final papers and
exams.  It’s kind of bittersweet.  It’s going to be weird not having
to grade essays on Shakespeare anymore.  But I’m glad it’s over. 
It’ll be a nice change.”

“I know you’re
an excellent teacher.  I vaguely remember Robbie talking about his
favorite English teacher.  Just hearing my family talk about you is enough
proof.  You’re not going to miss it once you’re at the Institute?”

“I’ll still be
teaching in some capacity at the Institute, it’ll just look different.” 
She paused awkwardly.  “I feel like we shouldn’t be talking about the
Institute.”  She sighed and began to get up.  “Jeremy, this really
isn’t a good idea –”

He held her in
place with his arm around her, then lifted her chin to look at him.

“Listen to
me.”  He paused and swallowed, as if gathering his wits about him. 
“I hope I’ve made it clear that I want to see you again.”

“I think, given
both of us will be at the Institute, it’s a guarantee that we
will
see
each other again.” 

“Stop talking
and listen.  That’s not the kind of ‘seeing’ I meant, and you know
it.”  Pause.  “I
want
you.  Badly.”

She could feel
the hum of the sexual tension in the air, and it took every ounce of willpower
for her not to look at his erection.

“And you want
me.” 

She let go of a
frustrated sigh.

He moved his
hand with his own frustration, and wrapped it through her hair.  “Why do
you insist on fighting it, Ryann?” he whispered, irritated.   He held
her head even firmer.  “Stop fighting me.”

“I don’t even
know you.  I mean what do you do for a living?  How old are
you?  What’s your middle name?” she said in a panicked rush.

“Art
dealer.  32.  Quinn.  My turn.  Same questions, although I
know the first answer.”

She let out a
frustrated sigh trying to process his answers.  Then she smirked. 
“27.  Fiona.”  Then she continued.  “My mom lives in Hamden,
Connecticut, with her husband Anthony.  My dad left us when I was a
baby.  She remarried when I was in ninth grade, and they moved out of New
Jersey when I left for college.”

“To
Columbia.  Smarty pants,” he said, impressed.

She
paused.  “How did you know where I went?”

He raised an
eyebrow.

Her
application.  The same way he found her address.

She looked away,
and sighed once again.  “Jeremy, you shouldn’t be looking at my
application for your own personal purposes.  This is what I’m
talking
about.  I just don’t see this working.”

As if she hadn’t
expressed her discomfort, he asked, “What other questions do you have?” 
He stroked her hair back from her face.

“You’re not
listening, Jeremy.”

“No, I’m
listening just fine, Ryann. 
You’re
not listening.  I just
don’t see the same gloom and doom scenario that you do.”  She was about to
protest, but he continued, “When it comes time for your evaluation, I’ll simply
remove myself from the process and call in an alternate.  That way,
there’ll be no conflict of interest.”

He waited for
that to sink in, and watched for her reaction.

She couldn’t
think of an argument for it, and he began to smile.

“Any more
questions?”

She looked
stumped then disgruntled.  Then, as if a thought had just popped into her
head, she asked with curiosity, “What kinds of things do you do every day with
your job?  I’ve always been fascinated with careers having to do with
art.” 

“Well, in
addition to some travel, I spend my days in contact with clients looking for
particular pieces, and then most of my time is spent finding those
pieces.”  Pause.  “And some of my time is spent looking for new
artists to present at my gallery.”

She looked at
him, surprised.  “You own a gallery?”

He cleared his
throat.  “The M Gallery.”

“The M Gallery
is
your
gallery?!”

He smiled.

“Are you kidding
me?”

Still smiling,
he shook his head no.

She
nodded.  When it looked like she couldn’t think of anything else to ask,
he said, “See?  That wasn’t so bad.  Now you know me a little
better.”

She sighed. 
Why
was
she fighting this?

He
continued.  “Tomorrow is graduation.  What are you doing on Tuesday?”

“Tuesday is my
first day at the Institute,” she mumbled.

“I want to take
you out to dinner after your first day.”  Pause.  “Say yes.” 

His eyes were pleading
with her.  How could she say no?

She let go of a
cleansing breath.  “Okay.”

He beamed, and
her heart nearly stopped at how gorgeous he was.  The hand in her hair
began to stroke her scalp, and she could feel herself melting. 

He smiled and
said quietly, “I’m going to kiss you now, Ryann.”  

And before she
could think another thought, his lips were on her.

Ahh.  There
was no doubt about it.  This man knew his way around a woman’s
mouth.  God, he ate at her, sucking, biting, nibbling, licking into
her.  His kisses were a drug, and she could feel herself becoming
addicted.

His hand in her
hair pulled a little harder, and she gasped.  But he didn’t let up. 
He just continued to lay siege on her mouth.

Her whimpers
turned into a moan, and he suddenly released her, and glared at her with lust
in his eyes.  He looked as if he just thought of something.

“Are Jonathan
and Ayanna dating?” he asked out of nowhere.

She
blinked.  “What?” she asked in a sexual fog.  “No.  They just
met tonight for the first time, actually.”  She frowned.  “Why?”

“What is
Jonathan to you?”

Flustered, she
said, “He’s a good friend.  We’ve worked together for years.” 

“How good of a
friend?” he asked dangerously low.

“Really? 
You stopped kissing me for this?”  She rolled her eyes.  “A platonic
friend.  He helped me to invest Brent’s...my late husband’s...life
insurance money…and as I said earlier, found me this place.”

A flicker of
something reached his eyes, but it was gone before she could characterize the
meaning there.  “Good.”  Pause.  “Will he be going out for
drinks with you and Ayanna tomorrow night?” he asked casually.

She let go of a
laugh, and shook her head.  Was he jealous?  She felt warm pleasure
seep through her.

“I highly doubt
it.  I don’t think he and Ayanna hit it off very well.  It’ll just be
us girls and will likely be an early night given I have to start at the
Institute the next day….is that alright with you, Daddy?” she chuckled.

He growled, and
rolled, pushing her down onto the sofa so he was leaning over her.  She
immediately stopped laughing.

“One thing
you’ll discover, Ryann, is I can be very possessive with things that are mine.”

Although she
felt a thrill at his statement, she felt compelled to say, “Oh? 
Possessive with your
things
?  Because, last I checked, that’s all
men
could
possess.  Unless of course you’re living in a different
century than the rest of us,” she said sweetly.

His eyes
glittered with a myriad of emotions… frustration, lust, dominance.  His
erection was rock hard pressing into her.  Licking his lips, his eyes kept
bouncing between her mouth and eyes.  With one hand still in her hair, the
other rubbed up her stomach toward her breast.

“So,” he
whispered.  His fingers began to flick over her hard nipple, which was
protruding from under her shirt.  “I guess I’ll see you Tuesday night
then.”

He continued to
hold her down by her hair, stroking her nipple.

“What?” she said
in a breathy sigh, her eyes fighting to stay open in her sexual haze.

He rolled her
nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger.  “I said, I guess I’ll
see you Tuesday night then.”  He leaned down and kissed her neck.

“Uh, huh,” she
said, her head lolled back giving him better access, all while he continued to
pluck at her nipple.

He sucked at her
throat, then nuzzled behind her ear and bit softly.  “I’ll pick you up at
the Institute.  I have a meeting there in the afternoon.  We can
leave after that.”

Her mind was
sluggish, as if it were trying to trudge through mud. 

“Uh, huh,” she
said, her mind still not focusing on the conversation at hand.

He leaned back a
little, removed his hand from her breast, and cupped her chin.  His eyes
were hot and smiling, with attractive crinkling bracketing his warm green
eyes.  “Wear something nice.”  Pause.  “Preferably something
that slips off easily.”

She slapped at
him, then pushed at him playfully.  He continued to hold her down for
another moment.  “And wear a pair of your ‘fuck me’ shoes.”

“Jeremy!” she
said, blushing.

He got up smiling,
and helped her stand.  “Where’s your phone?”

“Why?”

“I want to
program my number into it.”

“Oh.”  She
walked over to the dining table and retrieved it, taking it back to him. 
She felt slap happy, but tried to remain calm.

While he did
that, she began to clean up the pizza and wine glasses.  Upon returning
from the kitchen, he gave her back the phone, then held her hand, and walked to
the door.

“Have a good
night tomorrow night.”

“Thank you.”

“What time is
graduation over?”

“They’re usually
over by five.  Then we have some appetizers with the families and
faculty.”

He nodded. 
“And what time are you meeting Ayanna for drinks?”

He was so
adorable.  She hadn’t had a man ask her about where she was going since
Brent, and even then it wasn’t nearly as intense as Jeremy. 

She
smiled.  “I’ll call her when I leave the Academy.  Probably around
seven.  Anything else you’d like to know?”

He glared at
her.  “No,” he said quietly.

For some reason,
she felt the need to touch his face.  So, she did, laying her palm on his
cheek, feeling its scruff.  She could feel the burn marks on her mouth
from it.  It felt wonderful.

He grabbed her
wrist, and turned his mouth into her palm, then kissed his way up to the inside
of her wrist, and took nibbles there.

Her eyes began
to glaze over again.

“Until Tuesday,
then.  I’m looking forward to it, Ryann,” then he sank his teeth into the
fleshy part of her palm below her thumb

He released her
wrist, then turned and went out the door, closing the door behind him.  

One second
later, he tapped, and said through the door, “Lock up.” 

Flustered, she
bolted and chained the door, and listened to him walk away.

Ryann awoke in
her new apartment, the muffled sounds of nature mixing with the sounds of the
City that never sleeps.  She realized after going to bed, that sleeping
with the window open wasn’t going to work for her, at least not until she
became an official city girl.  Hearing constant sirens and garbage trucks
didn’t contribute to a good night’s sleep.  She eventually had to close
the window and turn on a fan.  

However, that
wasn’t the only reason for her sleep deprivation. 

Deciding to get
up and go for a run, she quickly pulled on some yoga pants and sneakers, a
sports bra and tank top, and headed out the door to take a jog along the West
Side Highway starting at Chelsea Piers. 

She normally ran
three times a week, peppering in days of doing pilates and yoga as well, and
she found today of all days, she needed the time to decompress.  To think.
 

Because to make
matters worse, last night she discovered more things about Jeremy that made
their situation even more complicated.

After he had
left, she was too hyped up to keep unpacking.  Knowing that the apartment
complex kept the wifi on when new owners transitioned into their places, she
was able to hook her laptop up and get on the old Google machine.

Not being able
to help herself, she began a search on Jeremy.  What she discovered made
the butterflies wreak havoc on her stomach.  There were tons of photos of
him, some were group shots of him with various people at exhibits, and she
found one with his mom at the M Gallery when it opened three years
earlier. 

But the most
disconcerting ones were of him pictured with so many beautiful women. 
Photo after photo of him going to various social events, usually having to do
with the art world in some way, with gorgeous elegant women on his arm. 

As if seeing him
in those pictures wasn’t bad enough, the piece de resistance was what she
discovered after that. 

The JQ
Foundation, which funded the Manhattan Institute for Art and Design, turned out
to be the James Quinn Foundation, named for Jeremy’s father.  And the
kicker was Jeremy’s grandfather, the first Jeremy Quinn, actually started the
Institute. 

She was
flummoxed.  How did she not know any of this, and why the hell hadn’t
Jeremy told her?  She let go of a pent up breath, and was beginning her
third mile, as she began circling back to her apartment. 

She knew why he
hadn’t told her.  He
knew
that she wouldn’t go out with him if she
knew.  And didn’t that just piss her off.  Because as far as she was
concerned, this made their conflict exponentially worse.  What would it
look like to have an intern in the instructor program seeing not only the Vice
Chairperson of the board, but someone who was also part of the founding family
of the Institute still funding it through their foundation?

She couldn’t go
out to dinner with him.  And it killed her to even think that because she
so badly wanted to go out with him.  She wanted to see where this could
go.  She just plain
wanted.

But one of them
had to be realistic, right?  Someone had to be the mature one, and it
looked like it was going to be her.  He had willingly withheld the
information from her, all because he basically wanted to get laid.  That’s
what it really boiled down to, as crude as it may have sounded.  And that
saddened her, angered her, and just made her tired of dealing with it. 
She didn’t want to go into this new job with a blot on her reputation.

Her apartment
building came into view, and she finally made it into the lobby, then headed up
to her new fifth floor home.  After she walked inside, she jumped into the
shower, and let the water beat down on her.  She needed to call him and
tell him she wouldn’t be going out with him the next night.  She didn’t
want them to have this conversation at the Institute. 

After her shower,
she went to her bedroom to get a robe, and noticed the message light blinking
on her phone.  She had a text.  It had come in while she was in the
shower.

She looked at
the phone, and her heartbeat tripped in her chest.  Speak of the
devil. 

JM: 
R u
awake?

She took a
steadying breath.  She couldn’t believe he was texting her.  She
typed back.

RT:
 
Yes.

She sat there
waiting for his response.

Ping! her phone
sounded.

JM:
I dreamt
of u last night.

She flopped on
the bed and sighed, beginning to feel that familiar arousal curling through
her.  She looked up at the ceiling in her new bedroom.  God, she
wished she wasn’t so attracted to him.  It would make this so much
easier.  She had to put a stop to this. 

Now. 

She texted him
back.

RT:
 We
need to talk.

She waited for
his response.  Her biggest problem, among others, was that she didn’t
think she could trust him.  Of course he came from a good family, and she
knew he wasn’t a serial killer or anything, but it was her heart she didn’t
trust him with.

And given the
photos she immersed herself in the night before, she wasn’t planning on being
another wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am girl of his.  Not to mention all of the
other issues with him lying about his actual association with the Institute.

At that moment,
her phone jangled and she jumped.  Not because it was ringing, but because
of what it was playing.  Paul Rodgers from Bad Company was rockin’ out in
his gritty voice, singing to her that he felt like making love...
feel like
mak-in’ love to youuu...”
 

She grabbed it
and noticed it was Jeremy’s name that appeared.  If she wasn’t so pissed
off at him at the moment, she would be laughing.

She took a deep
breath, and answered.

“Jeremy...What
did you do to my phone?” she demanded.

He chuckled,
“You don’t like my ringtone?  It’s true, you know.  I
do
feel
like makin’ love to you...every second of the day.”  Pause.  “That
text sounded ominous.”

She had to stay
strong.  She couldn’t play around with him, so she asked without preamble,
“Why didn’t you tell me your family started the Institute, or that your family
foundation continues to fund it?”

There was a
pause. 

“I didn’t
realize that information was a necessary component to our situation.”

“You didn’t
think it was
necessary
for me to know that?”

“Ryann, I can’t
help it if my grandfather began the Institute, nor can I help it that years ago
it was decided my father’s foundation would continue to fund it.  All of
these decisions were made way before I had any hand in them.”

“Still, Jeremy,
you didn’t tell me these things for a reason.  And we both know what that
reason was.”

“The reason is
this information doesn’t have anything to do with our relationship.”

“Well, that’s
where you’re wrong, on two counts.  One, this information has
every
thing
to do with it, and two, we don’t
have
a relationship.”  She paused,
and said, “I won’t be meeting you for dinner tomorrow night.  I think we
need to limit our seeing each other to when we bump into one another at the
Institute.”

“Ryann, this is a
non-issue, I promise you.  I don’t have my hands in every day to day
decision that is made at the Institute.  I’m simply going to be on the
board overseeing major decisions on the direction of it.  I already told
you when it comes time to decide on your hiring, an alternate will step
in.  So, the more you keep saying no, the more I’m going to keep saying
yes.”

“No,
Jeremy.  I mean it this time.  We can’t do this.  I mean,
really.  This was important for me to know!  And the more I think
about it, the more I realize I won’t be able to trust you.  How can I,
when it’s obvious you’re only going to tell me things that will further your
agenda?  Besides, if all you want is to get laid, you can just pick from
your bevy of beauties who you seem to be in a million pictures with on the
internet.” 

She huffed out a
breath, because she was working herself up into a tizzy.

“Ryann.  I
swear to God, if I was in your apartment right now, I’d put you over my knee,”
he growled.  “The only reason why you’re saying all of this is because
you’re looking for an excuse.  You’ve decided to let some search engine
tell you who I am, rather than getting to know the real me.  Is that
really the way you want to do this, Ry?  You want to give your fear that
much power over you?  Because that doesn’t seem too courageous or fair to
me, and from what everyone has said about you, you’re the bravest most fair
woman they know.”

How was he able
to turn the tables on her so effortlessly?  God, she was so torn. 
Now, she felt ashamed, because he was right in some respects.  It wasn’t
fair to not get to know the real him and to listen to gossip, but at the same
time, he
was
the one in the wrong for not sharing the information at the
beginning.  She didn’t know if she could deal with all of the business
with the Institute.

And she wasn’t
using this as an excuse.  She
wasn’t
.  

Jeremy finally
broke the silence, and said quietly, “Ryann, I could pick anyone, you’re
right.  But I don’t want
any
one.  I want you.  Is that
what you think this is only about?  Me getting laid?  God, why do you
think so little of me?  I
do
want you.  I’m not going to act
like I don’t, but you want me, too.”

She was
beginning to feel guilty about how she went about this.  She let out a
frustrated sigh, and it was mainly directed toward herself. 

“I don’t think
little of you, Jeremy.  I don’t.  I just think there are too many
cards stacked against us.”

“Come to dinner
with me tomorrow night.  Please.  We just need to talk this through
face to face so I can convince you that you can trust me.”

He was saying
all of the right things, letting her know that she was different.  But she
was still determined to be cautious.  She had to steel herself against the
lust that seemed to grip her whenever he was around.  It was amazing to
her how much his nearness messed with her body and head.

“Listen, I need
to start getting ready for graduation.  I’ll call you tomorrow and let you
know about dinner, ok?”

“Ryann, -”

“I’ve gotta go,
Jeremy.  I’ll call you tomorrow,” then she disconnected the call quickly
before she changed her mind. 

She was so
confused, because she wanted him so badly.  He
did
seem like such a
great guy.  She just needed to work through the new information about who
he was, and how that may affect her placement at the Institute. 

She wiped a
frustrated tear that leaked from her eye.  She needed to get her emotions
in check.  She didn’t want him to see her this way.

She spent the
next couple of hours trying not to think about him, but it was nearly
impossible.   The knock at the door pulled her out of her mental
playback of the morning.  She walked over to let Jonathan in.

“Wow.  You
look great,” he said, standing in his light gray suit, and giving her a once
over with his eyes.

She had decided
on a simple jersey wrap dress in a fresh springtime green that came to the
knee, and had elbow length sleeves.  She coupled it with her nude
slingbacks, and put on her pearl choker and earrings.  She left her hair
down, full and wavy, flowing just past her shoulders. 

“Thanks. 
You don’t look so bad yourself,” she smiled.

He looked her in
the eye.  “So, did you stay up late last night?”

She sighed, not
wanting to talk about Jeremy.  “No, Mr. White.”  She shook her head
and added with a slight smile, “Jeremy left shortly after you.  In fact, I
was in bed by nine.  You were right.  I was exhausted.”

He put up his
hand.  “I was just asking.”

“Is there
anything else you’d like to ask?”

“Ryann, you may
be the strongest woman I’ve ever met.  You’ve had to overcome some pretty
unbelievable obstacles, and you’ve done it with grace and determination.”

“Thanks.” 
Pause. “Is there a question in there?”

He paused, as if
gauging if he should say anything.  “No.  Just an observation.”

She
smirked.  “What’s your observation?”

“I know men,
Ryann.  And I may be speaking out of turn here, but…it’s obvious Jeremy is
very interested in you.”  She had known Jonathan throughout her grieving
period of Brent’s death, and she was pretty sure he knew that she hadn’t dated
anyone since then.  Or at least, she figured he had a good idea that she
hadn’t.

Her heart
fluttered.  “What makes you say that?” 

He ticked off on
his fingers.  “His showing up was a surprise, which was obvious.  You
only met him on Friday.  He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.  And
he was definitely sending ‘hands off’ vibes my way.  He’s interested, Ry.”

“Did he say
something to you when I was in the kitchen?”  Although she was thrilled by
what Jonathan had just said, she was slightly alarmed that Jeremy would say
something to him.

Jonathan
chuckled.  “No.  But I’m a man, and I can just tell.”  Then he
turned serious.  “You deserve all of the happiness in the world,
Ryann.  I mean that with all of my heart.  And if Jeremy can keep you
smiling, as well as keep that very becoming blush on your face, then I’m all
the happier.  I mean that.”

Ryann
swallowed.  “Thank you, Jon,” then she looked away.  “I don’t even
know if anything is going to happen with him,” she mumbled. 

“You’ve been
through a lot, Ry.  Don’t let him rush you.  If he’s worth it, he’ll
wait until you’re ready.  But know this, if he hurts you, I’ll be here for
you if you need anything.  Apartment 7C.  Just come on up.  I
hope no matter what, that we can always be friends.  I truly value our
relationship.”