Seduced In San Diego
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Tonight the older woman was in the market for a smaller scale piece right for her lavish New York apartment.
Jordan chatted with a few other patrons milling about the gallery. He talked with two other gallery owners who’d been pressing him to collaborate on a local arts festival. They hoped the project would bring a wider range of visitors to all three galleries. Jordan wasn’t willing to commit on the project just yet. But he was personable and showed just enough interest to keep the two other gallery owners’ hopes alive.
“Phenomenal event, Jordan.” His eldest brother, Marlon, exchanged his empty champagne glass for a filled one floating by on a server’s tray.
His brothers Michael and Joseph heartily agreed.
“Thank you for coming tonight. All of you, but you especially.” Jordan indicated his brother Marlon who’d arranged a business meeting in San Diego for the sole purpose of attending his event. “I know you have to be off soon to catch your red-eye flight back home.”
“Since he’s flying the private jet, Michael and I are tagging along.” Joseph nibbled on pâté on crostini. “We’ll be back here in a week or two.”
Jordan gave his brothers a quick hug. “I really do appreciate you being here.”
“Mum and Dad really did want to be here,” Marlon said quickly. “They’ve been trying to ring you all day to tell you as much themselves.”
“You shouldn’t brush them off that way. If for no other reason than they keep ringing the three of us all day. As if that will force you to answer your mobile.”
“I love them, but I’ve heard all of their excuses before.” Jordan winced, his lips pressed into a hard line. “Wasn’t much up for such utter tosh today. Had my fill of it for the day over at the Prescott George office.”
“What happened?” Michael crooked his brow.
“Nothing worth discussing,” Jordan said quickly. “And nothing for any of you to worry about.” He caught a glimpse of Lydia waving him over. “If I don’t see you before you leave, have a safe flight.”
Jordan answered a few questions Lydia asked on behalf of a client inquiring about a custom piece. He stopped to talk to the bartenders, then mingled with a few other guests. Then he noticed...her.
He watched the woman in a long, navy dress that hugged her lush curves. The dress was incredibly sexy without being too revealing. A line she trod remarkably well. Her movements were so smooth and fluid she seemed to float across the room.
Jordan’s attention was drawn to the smooth skin of her back and shoulders. Trailed up her long, elegant neck. He usually fancied women with long hair. Enamored with the thought of winding it round his fist. But the woman’s hair was cut into a short, pixie style that perfectly suited her impish smile.
A smile that indicated she knew something the rest of the world didn’t. A secret he suddenly needed to know.
As the woman sipped her champagne, her head tipped back slightly. Jordan found himself studying her throat. Her jawline. Her delicate cheekbones.
She walked around the sculpture she’d been assessing for the past few minutes, giving him an excellent view of her face.
Even better.
The woman was beyond fit. Even beyond stunning. Gorgeous, delicate facial features. Warm brown skin that practically glowed. Long, lean limbs.
Just cataloging her many fine attributes sent a shiver down his spine.
And she appeared to be without a companion for the evening. A dilemma he would most happily remedy.
Jordan wandered beside the woman and stared at the sculpture in silence for a moment. He sipped his champagne, then turned to her. “What do you think of it?”
“Me?” She gave him only a cursory glance, then returned her attention to the piece.
“You seemed to be making quite a study of it.” He shifted his gaze back to the piece. “Surely you’ve come to some conclusion.”
They stood silently in front of the sculpture. Two long, curved sheets of weathered steel shielded shiny steel cylinders. Hammered ribbons of steel circled the outside of the structure and appeared to float around it.
“The cylinders inside represent the status quo. The curved sheets of steel represent the artist.” She stepped forward, pointing to each section. “He desperately wants to break away from the status quo. To turn it on its ear. The floating ribbons of steel represent the possibilities that are out there, if only he can break free of limiting, status quo expectations.”
The woman turned to him. Her eyes locked with his. Slowly, her impish grin turned into a full-blown smirk. She broke into melodic laughter, her eyes twinkling.
“I’m kidding.” She drank more of her champagne as she turned back to study the piece again. “I have no idea what it means. All I know is that I really like it.”
A wide smile tightened Jordan’s cheeks.
Beautiful. A sense of humor. And she doesn’t take herself too seriously.
Jordan would be well on his way to falling in love with this woman, if he weren’t completely opposed to the notion of love at first sight. Or love in general. At least at this stage of his life.
Didn’t mean they couldn’t have a bit of fun together, if she was up for it.
“Well, it can be yours for the bargain price of one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars.” He extended a hand to her. “I’m Jordan Jace, the artist. And I desperately do want to break out of the limiting status quo.”
“Sasha Charles.” She placed her warm hand in his much larger one. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jace.”
“No, Ms. Charles, the pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” He held her hand in his a beat or two longer than was customary. His smile widened when she didn’t pull her hand away. He reluctantly released her hand. “And call me Jordan. I insist.”
“Only if you call me Sasha.” Her smile lit her eyes. She finished her champagne, then placed the empty glass on a passing tray.
“One moment, please.” He halted the server, then turned to her. “Shall I grab another for you?”
“Why, are you one of those artists whose work is better interpreted the more you’ve had to drink?”
A deep, belly laugh erupted from him that turned the heads of several people in attendance. She joined in on the laughter.
“Not particularly,” he managed finally. “But according to my family, they find me far less puzzling once they’ve had a drink or two.”
“Then maybe I should have another.” Sasha took a glass of champagne from the server’s tray and thanked him. “Just in case.”
Jordan definitely liked this woman.
“So, Miss... Sasha, do you often attend gallery openings?” He fell in line beside her as she moved to another piece.
“Sadly, no. I appreciate art, but I’m not much of an aficionado. I simply know what I like when I see it.” She took another sip, her gaze meeting his.
“Then to what do I owe the honor of your attendance here tonight?”
“I was invited to attend tonight’s event.” She walked around the smaller sculpture, her eyes meeting his again, briefly, before returning to the piece. “By a member of Prescott George.”
“I see.”
If he had to be a member of the club, it might as well pay dividends. And if he had his membership in the Millionaire Moguls to thank for bringing this stunning woman into his gallery, well, then maybe membership in the club was worthwhile, after all.
“Which member should I thank for extending the invitation to you? And what prompted you to accept it?” He watched her reaction as she assessed the piece.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Jordan.” Lydia approached hurriedly, pushing her eyeglasses up the bridge of her nose. She clutched her ever-present notepad. “But Mrs. Avery wants to buy three of your pieces—including Opposing Forces.” She nodded toward the sculpture they’d just left. The centerpiece of the exhibition. “But she has a couple of questions she’d like to ask you first.”
“Last chance.” He winked at Sasha, who laughed, before he turned back to Lydia. “Please tell Mrs. Avery that I’ll be with her in just a moment.”
Jordan returned his attention to Sasha. “Seems you’re my good luck charm. I didn’t expect that Opposing Forces would move tonight.”
“Does that mean I’m entitled to a cut of the sale?” Sasha pursed her pouty, pink lips, a smile teasing the edges of her mouth.
“We’ll see.” He smiled. “I have to go, but I won’t be very long. I hope you’re still around when I’m done. There are a few more pieces I’d love to hear your opinion of.”
“Take your time.” Sasha’s gaze held his. “I wouldn’t think of going anywhere.”
Chapter 3
Jordan Jace’s photos hadn’t done him justice. The man was absolutely gorgeous. His brilliant smile demanded attention from halfway across the room. And there was something truly magical about his laugh and the touch of his hand.
His penetrating gaze had sent shivers down her spine. And his mouth. There was something about his full lips that made hers burn with the desire to taste them.
It was official. The slight crush she’d developed on Jordan Jace as she’d studied him was now full-blown infatuation.
Her hand curled into a fist at her side, remembering how his large hand had engulfed hers. The tingling in her palm when her skin had touched his. And the trail of electricity that had skittered down her spine and into places she’d rather not admit.
No wonder Jordan had developed a reputation as a playboy during his short time in San Diego. She’d watched as the art groupies and wealthy patrons—like Vivian Avery, a beauty product heiress—had fawned all over him.
Sasha wouldn’t have been surprised if the wealthy heiress had purchased that piece just to bring Jordan back to her side and away from Sasha.
It was just as well. She could use a moment of distance. An opportunity to get her head back on straight. She hadn’t come here to let Jordan Jace sweep her off her feet. Her job was to ensure that he understood exactly why he needed her.
Having had a taste of the challenge ahead, she had no intention of leaving the gallery without doing just that.
* * *
Sasha checked her watch. Jordan had been gone for more than an hour. His business with Vivian Avery hadn’t seemed to take very long. However, he’d been pulled into a conversation every time he’d headed in her direction again.
Jordan Jace was quickly becoming a star in the San Diego art world. He was doing exactly as he should. Courting patrons and potential buyers.
So why did she feel a desperate sense of longing as Jordan moved from one person to the next? And the tug of the green-eyed monster as he flashed that big smile and focused his penetrating gaze on the other women there?
This is business, not The Dating Game. Stay focused and stop acting like a jealous girlfriend.
Sasha heaved a sigh and passed on another glass of champagne. She checked her watch one last time.
She’d come here tonight to observe Jordan. She hadn’t intended to engage him in conversation. Not yet, anyway. He was busy tonight. It would be better if she made an appointment to meet with him in his office. In a situation that felt a lot less...flirtatious.
Sasha grabbed a brochure and headed toward the exit.
“You’re not leaving.” Jordan caught her elbow before she reached the door. “I know I’ve been away a lot longer than I expected, but I’d love it if you’d stay a bit longer.”
“You’re obviously quite busy tonight. Which is exactly what you want.” She forced a smile to hide the disappointment she felt at leaving his company.
“If you stay, I’ll make it worth your while.” His eyes lit up as a smile slid across his handsome face. The kind of smile it was hard to say no to.
She leaned in closer, her voice low. “And exactly how do you plan to make it worth my while?”
“With a private tour.” His intense gaze felt like a laser peering into her soul. Dissolving her will like copper in a hot, smelting furnace.
“The gallery is quite lovely, but I do believe I’ve seen just about all of it during the course of the evening. Except, of course, the men’s room.”
Jordan’s laughter rang through the gallery and her cheeks heated in response.
“I think it’s better if that particular space remains a mystery. However, I’d love to give you a behind-the-scenes tour of the gallery, including my studio next door.”
Sasha’s pulse sped up, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his.
What is it about this man that is so...mesmerizing?
Jordan Jace certainly wasn’t the first handsome man with a great smile she’d encountered. So why was he so damn intriguing?
Perhaps too intriguing for someone she hoped to work with.
Saying yes to his flirtatious overture was a bad idea. And yet...she couldn’t say no.
“I don’t suppose I could turn down an opportunity like that.” She stepped away to create some space. He released her arm with a knowing smile. “How exactly did I merit such a high honor?”
His eyes twinkled. “Because, Sasha Charles, there is something about you that I find inspiring. And I can’t rest until I know exactly what that is.”
Jordan was gone before she could respond.
Sasha exhaled, her eyes pressed closed momentarily. She’d hoped that Jordan’s attraction to her would make her job easier. But her attraction to him would surely make the situation more challenging.
Still, this was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. So she’d have to put on her big-girl panties, keep Jordan Jace out of them and pull herself together.
* * *
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but the gallery is closed now.” Jordan’s assistant, a pretty woman with mousy brown hair, sparkling blue eyes and oversize glasses, approached Sasha.
She stood from the red sofa where she’d been seated. The glittery heels she’d chosen to wear were gorgeous, but her feet were killing her.
“I’m waiting. For Jordan.” Sasha suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. How many art groupies had sat in the same seat spouting the same line?
The woman frowned. “Did Jordan ask you to wait for him?” The question felt accusatory.
“Yes, I did.” Jordan walked over to the woman and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Sasha Charles is my guest this evening.” He turned to Sasha. “Sasha, meet Lydia Dyson, my right hand here at the gallery. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“Nice to meet you,” the woman said, though her tone indicated otherwise. She squinted at Sasha as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. When her eyes met Jordan’s briefly, she smiled. “He’s being too kind, of course. I’m incredibly lucky that I get to work with the great Jordan Jace.” Lydia gazed at him adoringly. A fact that seemed to go right over Jordan’s head. “But I appreciate the compliment, anyway.”
“I’ll lock up tonight. You head on home. And come in a few hours late tomorrow. I insist,” he added, before Lydia could object. Jordan broadened his smile. “Take a couple of bottles of champagne on your way out. You’ve earned them. Tonight was magnificent.”
Lydia perked up and nodded. The woman turned and walked away, tossing a good-night over her shoulder.
“Hey.” Jordan shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that sparked something inside her.
“Hey.” Sasha tightened her grip on her clutch. Heat filled her cheeks.
“I’m glad you stayed.” He indicated a doorway at the back of the studio and they both walked toward it. “Can I get you a glass of wine or a bite to eat?”
“I’ve had quite enough tonight already, thank you.” Sasha held up a hand. There was no way she could pull off this encounter successfully if she wasn’t completely sober. Not with electricity dancing up her spine as she walked beside this man.
“As you wish.” He opened the door, which led down a narrow corridor.
Sasha halted in her tracks and took a deep breath. Her eyes met his. “Look, Jordan, I appreciate the chance to tour your studio. But if the invitation is really just the modern-day equivalent of offering to ‘show me your etchings’...”
Jordan’s deep belly laugh made her cheeks burn, but she couldn’t help chuckling, too. He raised his hands, his palms facing her.
“I have every intention of being a gentleman tonight. I assure you.” He grinned. “I just thought you might like to see the method behind my madness, so to speak. Of course, after tonight...well that, love, is up to you.”
Sasha exhaled and headed down the brick corridor. Her heels clicked against the concrete floor as Jordan walked beside her.
Finally, he opened another door and turned on the light. The unfinished brick walls, stained concrete floor and steel beams overhead gave the cavernous space the same spare, raw feel as the gallery.
“My assistant hosed down the floor this morning, but it is still a working studio. So perhaps you should be careful with that lovely dress.” Jordan held the door open.
“Lydia hosed down the floor?” Sasha gathered the hem of her dress in one hand and followed Jordan into the studio.
“No, Lydia is my gallery assistant,” Jordan clarified. “A young man named Marcus Whitten is my studio assistant.”
“I see.” Sasha surveyed the space. It smelled of welded metal, but it was surprisingly clean for a studio that housed rolls of sheet metal and industrial shelving bearing metal pipes, buckets of nuts, bolts, chains and a variety of other cast-off pieces of metal. “And what does a sculptor’s assistant do? Besides hose down the floor?”
“Thankfully, quite a bit.” Jordan beckoned her farther into the space. “When I started out, I did everything myself. The salvaging, the cutting and prepping and all of the welding. Sometimes I worked on more than one piece at a time, but it could take weeks or even months to complete them.”
“And now?”
“Now I have Marcus. Quite the promising sculptor in his own right. But for now, he helps me out with the grunt work around here. Frees me up to focus on the artistic bits.”
“He’s paying his dues, I suppose.” Sasha strolled along the space with Jordan. Past heavy tools and stockpiles of salvaged metals and reclaimed wood.
“As did I.”
“You? Doing grunt work?” Sasha stopped and turned to him, barely holding back an incredulous grin. “Why do I find that so difficult to believe?”
“Doesn’t fit the millionaire playboy narrative, I know.” He chuckled. “But it’s true. I studied studio art in university for a couple of years. University life and rules didn’t quite agree with me. So I left.”
“Now that, I can believe.” Sasha tried not to allow herself to be drawn in by those glittering eyes and that infinite charm, enhanced by a very sexy British accent. It was a losing battle. “I doubt your parents were very happy with that decision.”
“They weren’t.” For the first time, there was a flash of darkness in his expression. “I’m the black sheep in the Jace family. The sole artist in a family full of bankers. My mum and dad thought I’d gone mad when I left university and went to work as a studio assistant for a mere pittance. Truthfully, they still think me a bit bonkers.”
Sasha’s heart ached for Jordan. He behaved as if he was unconcerned about the opinions of others. Though clearly, he was wounded by his parents’ rejection of his career choice.
The topic of his parents was a subject best avoided for as long as possible.
“Did you work for a sculptor?”
“Eventually.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his confident smile fixed firmly in place again. “But first I was assistant to a painter and then a multimedia artist. Then I went to work for a remarkable sculptor who worked with clay.”
“Your apprenticeships served you well. I can see the influence of all three mediums in your work.” Sasha turned her attention to an assemblage of scrap metal laid out on the floor. “Is this what you’re working on now?”
“It is. Commissioned for a corporate office headquartered in LA.” He gripped his chin, studying the metal fragments, as if seeing them for the first time.
Sasha walked carefully around the collection of metal scraps until she stood opposite him. When she looked up, he was no longer studying the metal pieces on the floor. He was studying her.
Electricity trailed down her spine and the room suddenly felt warm. She dropped her gaze to the assemblage of scraps arranged on the floor again.
“So a commissioned piece like this. How does it work? Does the client tell you what they want?”
“This isn’t color by numbers, love.” His smile widened. He was clearly amused by the very suggestion that he’d execute someone else’s design. “I don’t have anything against anyone who does work that way, mind you. It simply doesn’t work for me. Black sheep who has an uneasy relationship with rules, remember?” He poked a thumb to his chest.
“Good point.” She nodded sagely, her cheeks tightening in a smile. “So, what is your process? Do you sketch out your designs, then find the materials you need?”
“Only when an idea begins in my head. Perhaps I’m inspired by something I’ve seen, there’s a concept I want to express or I have a persistent vision I can’t let go of.” Jordan stooped, rearranging a few of the metal scraps. “Other times, I select salvaged pieces like these and play around with them. Try out different configurations until a design speaks to me.”
Jordan scrutinized the pieces intently, and Sasha assessed him.
“So how did you come by your remarkable studio assistant Marcus?”
“I met him during a workshop I gave for local high school students.” Jordan stood, dusting off his hands. He retrieved a clean rag from a nearby metal table and cleaned them. “Marcus was bright and incredibly talented. Eager to learn about art. But he was struggling with the rest of his schoolwork and he’d become a fixture in the headmaster’s office.”
“Then why’d you take a chance on him?”
Jordan shrugged, still focused on the configuration of items laid out on the concrete floor. “I see a little of myself in him, I suppose.” He raised his gaze to hers, then laughed. “And that is why I don’t normally tell people stories like this.”
“Why? What did I do?”
“You’ve got that face...as if you’ve just seen a baby take its first steps or something.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do. And I don’t work with kids like Marcus for recognition. Neither is it a wholly selfless act.” He gestured toward another metal table where a smaller piece was taking shape. “The boy’s got a good eye. And he’s a very hard worker.”
“Obviously.” Sasha surveyed the piece. An assemblage of metal pipes and fittings were arranged in the shape of legs and feet. “But if he was already struggling with school...won’t a demanding job make things worse?”
Jordan stuffed his hands in his pockets and assessed Sasha, as if debating whether he should tell her the rest.
“I pay him a decent hourly wage, but the rest goes toward a tutor. Like I said, he’s quite bright. He just learns a bit differently.”
“And he agreed to the deal?”
“He’s never missed a tutoring session and his grades have improved dramatically.” Jordan’s eyes twinkled with pride. He indicated the various machines along one wall. “And he’s learned to work all of the machinery here. Skills that would serve him well if he needed to go into a trade, for a time, at least.”
“It’s all a facade, isn’t it?” Sasha couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face or the fluttering in her chest.
“Sorry?” Jordan crooked a brow, puzzled.
“You behave as if you don’t care about anything or anyone but your art, but you do. You care about the environment—that’s why you use discarded wood and metal. You care about underprivileged youth—that’s why you do the workshops. And you obviously care deeply about both of your assistants.”
“I never purported to be a monster. And if you thought as much, I doubt you’d be here now.”
“Actually... I have a very particular reason for being here.” Sasha was reluctant to bring their lovely evening together to what would likely be an abrupt end.