Page 12 of Play Book

Saylor’s style seems to focus on dark or monochrome color schemes with one bright or light element. In this particular case, it’s a man’s silhouette, done in shades of brown and beige, with the brightness coming from a shiny gold watch on his wrist. It’s so striking I can’t tear my eyes away, suddenly wondering if I have a place for it in my condo.

“Hi!” Saylor comes over to me and presses a light kiss on my cheek, one hand resting on my arm. “I need a few minutes to close out this sale, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

Her touch makes my body tingle, as if she’s given me a light shock, and it’s strangely exhilarating.

“Take your time,” I tell her.

She moves away, and I turn back to the painting.

I don’t really have a color scheme or art in my condo, but this painting seems to be speaking to me. It’s like I need to own it, which makes no sense since I’ve never felt that way about a piece of art before.

The price tag momentarily gives me pause, but I’m going to ask her about it as soon as the current customer leaves.

“Are you ready to go?” she asks, startling me.

I’ve lost track of time studying each piece of art.

“Is that one for sale?” I ask, pointing to the brown one.

She smiles. “It is. Do you like it?”

“I do. I’m not really an art guy, but that piece seems to resonate. I can picture it in my bedroom. It feels like it belongs to me. That’s the only way I can describe it.”

“That’s what art is supposed to do,” she says, gazing up at me with long-lashed yellow-gold eyes that are momentarily mesmerizing. “It makes you feel something.”

Right now, I’m feeling all kinds of unfamiliar things.

Jesus.

What’s wrong with me?

This is supposed to be nothing more than sex.

We agreed to that.

We’re both on board.

She’s a classy, elegant lady so I threw in dinner because it seems like the right thing to do, but this isn’t some kind of date.

Is it?

“Is something wrong?” she asks, cocking her head slightly. “I hope you don’t feel obligated to buy something. I won’t be offended.”

“No, it’s not that.” I shake my head. “I was just thinking how pretty your eyes are.”

She laughs. “Well, thank you. But sweet talk isn’t necessary. We already know where tonight is going.”

“We do,” I agree, reaching out to put an arm around her and pull her closer. “But I still think a little sweet talk is fun.” I really want to kiss her, but I also don’t want to rush it the first time; something tells me it’s going to be spectacular.

She gently moves out of my embrace. “Then, by all means, sweet talk away. Just let me lock up. And if you’re serious about the painting, we can haggle over dinner.”

I follow her around as she turns off most of the lights, throws the deadbolt at the main entrance, puts a wad of money in a safe that’s activated by her fingerprints, and then picks up her purse.

“Okay. We have about thirty seconds to get out once I set the alarm.”

“I parked out front,” I tell her.

“We can walk around through the alley, if that’s okay?”

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