Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (7 page)

When we walk into Mountain Time Art Gallery, there’s a stillness—the kind that only exists in a place like this—and it appears as though no one is here. The reception desk is empty, and no one comes out to greet us right away.

“Hmm,” Logan hums, looking to her left and to her right. “I’m sure someone is here. Maybe they’re upstairs and didn’t hear us come in. Should we just look around for a minute?”

I offer her a nod, and without another word, we begin to make our way through the quiet space. Nothing catches my eye at first, but Logan stops. I let her look, moving on without her. When I round the corner, what I find captures my attention immediately.

She’s standing perfectly still, her hands clasped together in front of her. She’s tiny. Not in stature—though, I tower over most women. Without those shoes, I’d guess she’s at least five-six. But that waist, those hips, in that skirt, which sculpts her ass just right—the floral pattern a brilliant choice only a woman as delicate as she could pull off—I feel obligated to take her all in. She looks exceptionally
breakable
. I force in a deep breath, the thought of pummeling into that petite body turning me on.

Her long, vibrant red hair hangs in waves down to the middle of her back—a beautiful contrast to her porcelain white skin. I imagine wrapping my fingers in it and tugging on the thick strands, arching her neck until the only place she has to look is up at me.

“Jude, I—”

“Shhh,” I insist, holding up a finger, my eyes still trained on the vision before me.

The way she’s angled in front of that painting, I can’t make out her face. I’d like to imagine a woman with those fine legs and that appropriate level of fashion sense has a face to complete the package—but I’ve been wrong before, and just now, I don’t want to break the illusion.

“Did you just
shush
me because you’re
checking her out?
” Logan hisses.

I hold up my finger once more, not bothering with an answer. Whoever this woman is, she’s transfixed. I can appreciate her appreciation for whatever it is she sees, and I intend to respect her
while
my eyes roam over her body.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

At the sound of another man’s voice, the redhead gasps in surprise and turns to face us. Her big, round, bright brown eyes grow wide at the sight of me, her full, sweetheart lips parted open. Her face is covered in the lightest brown freckles—but it’s not unattractive in the slightest. In fact, she’s stunning. Absolutely,
fucking
stunning. She looks elegant, as if her
face
was meant to exude grace. And as my eyes lock in on her pink lips, my dick begins to harden.

“Logan,” I start to say, still not even bothering to look beside me, “tell the man what we’re looking for.”

It isn’t until I hear Geoff’s voice that I realize there are
customers
in the gallery. When I turn away from the wall, I freeze at the sight of the most
gorgeous
man I have
ever
seen in my
entire
life. It’s actually quite unfair, his level of attractiveness. No one should be allotted
that
much of an advantage. It’s practically a weapon. It might even be borderline illegal. I mean, it’s got to be.

He’s at least six-three or six-four—he’s
tall
. He’s tall and he’s
broad
—but not in a
bulky
sort of way. The suit he wears—it hugs him in all the right places, leaving no doubt in my mind that he is a healthy, active, deliciously fit man. And—good God—he’s handsome. His hair is a deep, dark brown and he wears it parted down the side and slicked back. It’s classy. It’s
sexy.
It’s distracting. But what steals my breath are his eyes. They’re grey. Not blue, or black, but this beautiful, dark
grey
.

“Logan,” he speaks.

Oh, my god.
My heart races at the sound of his rich, baritone voice. I don’t even comprehend the words that he’s saying. It isn’t until he starts walking toward me that I begin to panic. I look to Geoff, but all he does is smirk at me, wiggling his eyebrows once before he directs his attention to the blonde I assume is
Logan
.

I force in a deep breath, turning my back to the beautiful stranger as he approaches. I can’t even begin to imagine why, after Geoff offered his help,
why
this man feels inclined to approach
me
.

“It’s exquisite,” he says, stopping just beside me.

Feeling unbelievably shy, I can’t bring myself to look into his eyes—so I do the next best thing. I look at his shoes.

“Wh-what is?” I barely manage, my voice pathetically squeaky.

“The painting. I assume you agree. You were quite captivated upon our entrance.”

“Oh,” I say with a sigh, bringing my eyes back up to the canvas. I will myself to calm down. The fine man appreciates fine art. I can work with that. “It just arrived today. This particular artist is one we work with frequently. I think he’s quite good.”

“I’m quite good, as well,” he murmurs.

My eyes travel back down to his shoes, my brow furrowing in confusion. “Good at what, exactly?”

“Lots of things.” I suck in a breath when I feel his finger trace along the the underside of my jaw. When he reaches my chin, he tips my head up, forcing me to look into his eyes. “You’re quite exquisite, yourself. But I assure you, my shoes are not that interesting.”

I feel it as a blush heats my cheeks. For a moment, I wonder where the hell Geoffrey went.

“What’s your name?” he asks me, his fingers still holding my chin.

“Teddy. A-and yours?”

“Judah.”

He licks his lips, his gaze flicking toward mine before he finds my eyes again. My blush deepens and I wonder why I can’t seem to take deep breaths any longer.

“How old are you?”

“Um—I’m almost twenty-three. Why?”

“I’d like to take you to dinner.”

All the air I had in my lungs rushes out of me as I gape at him in complete and utter shock.

“Dinner?” I mutter.

“I consider myself a gentleman. I usually dine before I fuck—and you, Teddy, would be an exceptionally welcome beauty in my bed.”

“Whoa!” I exclaim, taking a step away from him. He drops his hand, and as his fingers leave my skin, I can feel it as my sense of
confidence
suddenly snaps back into place. “Did you just—did you just
proposition
me?”

“I’m simply extending an offer—one adult to another,” he says, clasping his hands behind his back. “An evening spent in my company. No strings.”

I cough out a humorless laugh, my eyes wide in disbelief. For a second, I wonder if this is really happening right now. I look around and find that we are still alone, and when my eyes meet his once more, I see it—I see that he is
completely
serious. Suddenly, I see
beyond
his beauty; or perhaps I see what his looks have done
to
him, turning him into this arrogant man who thought his proposal of dinner and
sex
would actually work. Whatever the case may be, my perception of him is now tarnished. Rather than a racing pulse, there’s a sick feeling in my stomach.

“Well, then, my answer is no. I think I’m
supposed
to be flattered, but I’m not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my lunch has arrived.”

I walk around him, inadvertently breathing him in. He smells amazing, which only makes me want to look at him from over my shoulder. I don’t. But as I make my way to the back room, I can’t help but wonder if by
not
looking, I’ve missed my last chance to lay eyes on the most gorgeous asshole I’ve ever met.

I
watch her leave, my mind already busy planning my next move. I
will
have her. The hard-on trying the seam of my pants is proof that she’s a challenge I fully intend to accept. There is something about her—something so soft and innocent. She’s shy. It wasn’t an act, it wasn’t contrived, she wasn’t playing me, and it only makes me want her more. I thought she was breakable before, but now—now I see that she’s more delicate than I anticipated, and I want to see her shatter at my touch.

I want to bury my dick into her cunt, making her wild and desperate for more. I want to see the look in her eyes when I make her come. I want to hear her scream my name, her pleasure breaking through her shy demeanor and unleashing the fiery woman I’d imagine exists under all that innocence.

She may have rejected my invitation, but her body spoke louder than her words. The blush in her cheeks, her shallow breaths, and the look in her eyes when I touched her—
fuck.

I clear my throat, shifting my thoughts to the painting in front of me. I have to think of something else, or my cock will never calm down. It takes me a couple minutes, but when I have myself under control, I slide my hands into my pockets before I go looking for Logan. It’s time to get out of here.

At my approach, she looks away from the man in front of her and scowls at me slightly before offering the man her hand. “Thank you, Geoffrey. It was nice to meet you.” She holds up his card with a smile before she assures him, “We’ll be in touch.” Then, without another word, she makes her way toward the exit, her fine ass swaying as she goes.

I offer
Geoffrey
a nod before going after her. When we reach my Porsche, I follow her to the passenger side so that I might open her door, but she waves me away.

“No need to be a gentleman now. I’m fine, Judah.”

I frown at her, ignoring her implication as I reach for the handle anyway. She lifts an eyebrow at me as I stand waiting for her to get in.

“What did you say to that woman?”

“I don’t see why that’s any of your concern,” I state simply with a shrug.

She laughs a humorless laugh, folding her arms across her chest before she says, “I’m not stupid. There’s only
one
reason a woman would walk away from you like that.
I
have walked away from you like that.
What did you say?
”

“If I tell you, will you get in the car.”

She lifts her chin at me defiantly. I take that as my answer.

“I told her I’d like to take her to dinner.”

She arches an eyebrow, silently expressing her doubt while demanding a better explanation.

“Logan—”

“No bullshit, Judah. What did you say?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Is this us being
friends?
”

“Yup,” she states, popping the
p
for emphasis. “Now
spill.
”

“I offered her full disclosure. Dinner. My
company
. No strings.”

She rolls her eyes and huffs at me before she finally gets into the car. I close her in, somehow sure that being confined in a small space with the woman is not my best bet right now. Nevertheless, we need to get back to the office. We have work to do.

As soon as I’m seated in the driver’s seat, she turns toward me, and I know I’m in for an earful. I start the car and back out of the parking space, hoping for green lights all the way to our destination.

“You’re going to apologize to her.”

“Excuse me?” I mutter, genuinely confused by her suggestion.

“
I’m sorry
. You’re going to say those words. Or at least
write
them. You can send her flowers or something.”