Page 75 of Naughty Nelle

“Thanks,” I stammered, all hot and bothered. I moved on to the next painting with Blake hot on my trail.

This painting was an early portrait of the artist with his wife. Her bare, contoured back faced me; the artist’s hand was tugging on her waist-length ebony ponytail, pulling her head back. It was called The Kiss. I stared at it wordlessly, mesmerized. A rush of emotion poured through my veins. My eyes teared up. I’d never been so profoundly affected by a piece of art. It was not what I saw that moved me, but what I didn’t see. His lips consuming hers. The fire. A flame of passion and desire. I could feel what Delilah was feeling all the way to my toes. My chest rose, my heart thudded, and my breath caught in my throat. All time stood still.

“Do you like this painting?” Blake’s soft voice brought me out of my trance-like state and back to the moment.

“I love it.” My voice was thin and watery. I knew what this kiss felt like. I’d experienced it. Only once. Blindfolded. With a beautiful stranger.

Blake’s warm hands splayed across my bare shoulders. His breath heated my neck. I was paralyzed. And then he whispered in my ear.

“It’s special, isn’t it, Jen—”

“Blake, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

A shrill, unfamiliar voice cut him short. Blake’s hands jumped off my shoulders. We pivoted on our heels at once. Facing us was a drop-dead gorgeous blond goddess, dressed in a low-cut, body-hugging black mini dress that revealed her melon-sized boobs, clearly fake, and mile-high shapely legs that were anchored in stilt-like shoes. She looked familiar to me—maybe a supermodel or actress.

Blake’s face flushed slightly as he gulped. “Kitty—”

“It’s Kat,” she hissed.

Blake harrumphed. I held back laughter. My urge to laugh was short-lived.

Kitty-Kat narrowed her predatory cat-green eyes at me. Her long, lacquered nails morphed into claws. I shuddered. I could mentally feel them dragging down my flesh. She hissed again. “Blake’s with me.”

She intimidated me. But worse, a bolt of jealousy shot through me. This was Blake’s type. Tall, blond, and gorgeous. Even in my sexy LBD and heels, I paled next to her.

“Well, I should be going.”

A triumphant smile snaked across Kitty-Kat’s full crimson lips. Blake looked flustered.

“Tiger, wait. Don’t go.”

Just as I was about to flee, Bradley returned with an iced tea in his hand. His eyes darted from me to Kitty-Kat to Blake.

“Why it’s you again,” he sneered.

“This is my boss, Blake—”

Bradley cut me off. “Oh, your boss? The one who practically bit off my fingers.”

I chewed my bottom lip, on the verge of laughter. What was wrong with me? I should be feeling sorry for my poor fiancé. Blake shot me a wry look and shrugged.

“It was an accident.”

Steam was coming out of Bradley’s nostrils. I could practically see it. His lips snarled, his shoulders hunched, and his hands fisted. He had a major anger management issue and could easily be roused.

He grabbed my hand and jerked me away. “I’ve had enough. We’re out of here.”

Wordlessly, I let Bradley drag me through the crowd, the tumbler of champagne still in my hand. I felt like hurling it at him. Only steps away from the entrance to the gallery, I turned my head to look back.

Blake Burns had not moved. His eyes bore into mine, and I realized they had never left me.

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