Page 10 of Finding Out

“Next?” I finally let myself look at her, though I moved hesitantly, concerned she’d be angry or hurt by my clipped response.

She wasn’t. Her expression was curious, open.

“Yeah.” She leaned against the bar, head turned my way. “You can’t tell me that onceStonehengeis officially yours, your collecting is done.” With an arch of one brow, she hit me with a playful, challenging look.

“Of course not. I have a list,” I assured her. “If this goes well, maybe I’ll share it with you.”

I had plans, and it was becoming more and more clear that Larryand Pat weren’t the people who were going to make it happen for me. That was something I needed to talk to Erin about.

“Ooh, throwing down the gauntlet?” She smirked and settled back again. “I love a challenge.”

“Of course you do.” I spun my own glass on the lacquered surface beside me. “What about you? Do you have a list?”

“Of paintings I want to see up close? Hell yeah, I do.”

Normally I hated small talk, but as she prattled on about which pieces she dreamed of seeing, I was enthralled. The way her eyes lit up brightened the entire room, and the slight flush of her cheeks warmed me. Even the way her hands moved as she spoke was captivating. She was bewitching. Especially her depth of knowledge of a topic I, too, was passionate about.

“Do you know how bigWater Liliesis?” I asked.

She lifted her drink and stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. “Since I haven’t been to the Orangerie Museum, I don’t.”

I shook my head, but before my lips could tug up in a smile, I schooled my features. “I’d always heard it was big, but I didn’t expect it to be practically as big as a football field, that’s for sure.”

Sighing, she tucked a hand under her chin and surveyed the ceiling. “That’s why I want to see them all in person. Experiencing art in person is so different from seeing it in a photo on screen.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Someday I’ll make it back to Paris to see them.” She spoke the words as if they were a promise to herself.

My heart lurched. Fuck, I had the urge to promise to take her. Show herWater Liliesand thenTown Hall with a Flag.Apples and Cookies. I knew she’d loveYoung Girls at the Piano. The colors blended so fluidly in that piece, like liquid air, almost strokeless.

I hated that I couldn’t be the person to make her those promises. I had no right to want her.

I wasn’t a man who had many friends. I was a workaholic who didn’t make time for people. And besides Avery, I had no family left. I was an only child, and my parents had long passed, so my daughter was my family. Alienating my daughter by dating her best friendsdidn’t seem like the play. Even if Avery was moving on with her life. Even if it was getting harder and harder to resist Wren.

My eyes locked on her lips. Was there a world where Avery might understand? Where she could accept it?

Wren pushed her half-full drink away. “We should probably go. The driver is waiting for us out front.”

Frowning, I brushed off the ridiculous ideas, and checked my watch, certain it wasn’t time to head out yet. But sure enough, we’d been sitting here talking for forty-five minutes.

She popped off the stool, and once again, I found myself following her mindlessly.

By the time we had worked through details and had the painting in hand, I was completely blown away by the woman beside me. The way she inspected the piece of art alongside the authenticators, checking both its authenticity and condition with a cool, level head, was impressive. And she was an expert schmoozer, chatting with the authenticators and the museum staff while stealthily promoting the auction she would be running on Sunday night. And holy hell, the detailing she discussed was so above my head. This woman’s knowledge and ability to charm anyone she met sucked me more under her spell.

I’d been to these things before, and Larry had always done a cursory check of whatever I was buying, but the attention to detail wasn’t like Wren’s. It almost seemed as if she was as excited as I was about the painting.

“Congratulations.” She pressed her hands together below her chin and clapped lightly using just her fingers, beaming, as I shook hands with the director who then passed the box across the table to me.

“Thanks.” Lips twitching, I ran a hand over the box. The painting was officially mine and in my possession. I’d almost let myself smile, but before it broke across my face, she threw her arms around me and squeezed. As her sweet scent hit my nose, I froze, but a beat later, my body came alive, and I pulled her close.

Her tall frame pressed perfectly against my body, like a yin slottingagainst its yang. Without thought, I slid my arms around her thin waist and tightened my hold. My hands splayed across her back, as if they’d been made to touch her. Chin tucked, I nuzzled into her hair and breathed her in.

I gave myself the space of two heartbeats to appreciate the way she felt in my hold, because I had to step back.

Releasing her was torturous, but Wren turned quickly, face still lit up like what we’d just shared was a normal hug rather than a life-altering experience.

While she thanked the gathered group, I chastised myself for obsessing over this woman. I’d always known Wren was smart and talented, but seeing her in action had made it all so much more real. And it had made her so much harder to resist.

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