Page 102 of Spike

“Fair enough, butI wouldn’t go picking out your yacht just yet. I’m just a welder. I’m notreally an artist.”

“You can’t be forreal,” Philippe said, turning to me. “Is this guy for real?”

I smiled andnodded. “He’s exactly what you see.”

“Well, I guesswe’ll find out tonight, won’t we?”

“Tonight?” Spikeasked, his rosy cheeks turning white.

We turned to see asmall group of well-dressed people walk through the gallery doors, and as Isuspected, they walked straight to the sculpture by the window. It was aboutsix-feet tall and was in the shape of a horse made with giant gears andwashers. It was magnificent.

“Your patrons havealready begun to arrive,” Phillipe said.

“Who are thesepeople, and how do they even know about the auction?”

“The gallery’sbeen advertising the event for a few months now,” Phillipe replied. “Buyers upand down the west coast are showing serious interest. I suspect your debut willbe a smashing success.”

With that, hewalked away.

“Tada,” Isqueaked.

“Is it too late tochange my mind and be mad at you?” Spike teased.

“Nope, sorry. Youlocked in your answer. Now, come on, let’s get you changed.”

“Changed?” Spikefurrowed his brow. “Into what?”

“Gemma called in afavor from a designer friend of hers, and had a suit tailored for you. Francohad to calculate your size based on some clothes I stole from you, and picturesof you in my phone. He said if you need any alterations, we can ship the suitback to him in Milan and he’ll take care of it.”

“Milan, Italy?Wait a minute. Is Gemma’s friend Franco Garavaglia?”

“I think so. Thatsounds right. Do you know him?”

Spike lookedstunned. “He’s one of the top designers in men’s fashion.”

“Sounds like thekind of people Gemma’s friends with,” I said.

“Baby, a customFranco Garavaglia suit costs seventy-five thousand dollars.”

“You’d better notspill mustard on it, then,” I said, leading him into the back room.

Spike undressedand I must confess I found it agonizingly difficult to make him redress.

“Baby?”

It took me asecond to respond. “Um, yes?”

He chuckled as heglanced around the room. “You know, the door’s locked and there are no camerasin here.”

I met his eyes.“And?”

“And, you’rewearing a skirt.”

“Jesse.” I bit mylip. “There’s a building full of people out there.”

He advanced on me,slipping a hand between my legs. “Then we better be very, very quiet.”

I mewed as heripped my panties from my body and dropped them on the floor. “Spike, I needthose.”

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