Chapter Eight

Even if she was the star of the night, Lake still had to wait in a four-person queue at the ladies until there was a free cubicle. After relieving herself she washed her hands at the basin, looking at her reflection in the vast mirror, which stretched up to the ceiling.

Even though the night had worn on and she’d had some champagne, she was pleased to see she was still holding it together. In fact, she looked quite good, if she did say so herself, illuminated against the white-tiled backdrop. Her cheeks were flushed, her russet hair appeared to shine like copper in the bathroom lighting, and there was a real sparkle in her eyes. She looked…well…alive again. All thanks to Hunter and the fantasies he’d helped stir up in her. Even if the picture of his penis was the last thing she’d see of an Adonis like him. Likely he’d gotten his titillation.

Lake made her way to the door, her satin clutch in hand, thanking a gushing female guest sporting a black, chin-length bob, for her compliments about her artwork—and her red dress—along the way.

Back inside the exhibition space, Lake stood for a moment in the crush of the crowd, just drinking it all in, the walls throbbing with music and conversation, the visual feast of her very own black-and-white, naked images adorning the place, the exquisite buzz of taking a risk and it paying off…

Then she gasped.

Him. H-I-M.

What the hell was he doing here? They really ought to stop bumping into one another.

Her mystery man paused amid the crowd then began languidly weaving his way toward her, his aquamarine eyes pinned on hers like a man on a mission, like something out of her dreams. She desperately needed another glass of champagne, but she wouldn’t make it to the bar in time. All that kept running through her mind at the sight of him was that huge, darkened, shaft-like silhouette, as though tattooed in her mind.

He had his blond hair slicked back with gel, like he’d just emerged from the pool. He pulled off the look far better than the gallery director had earlier on. Looking decidedly un-hobo-like, he was also wearing a suit. A black suit, which hugged his muscular frame superbly, with a crisp, white shirt underneath, unbuttoned at the top. No tie.

Lake felt herself weaken, like someone had shoved into her, sending her off-balance, as though she needed something to grip onto. She wanted him by her side right now as much as she wanted him to sail past her out the door, because she could hardly bear the disempowering, totally paralyzing effect he had on her.

Just when he was mere feet from her, he was suddenly waylaid by a raven-haired girl in a black, leather-like, cut-out minidress, showing off ample bosom and endless toned, tanned legs. A stunning socialite Lake recognized from the local papers—obviously on the gallery’s invite list, not hers. Lake could barely stand to see the socialite’s paws all over Hunter like a rash.

The man himself looked as though he belonged in an Armani ad, not just here at this small, downtown gallery. At Lake’s very own exhibition.

The woman had cat-eye liner on, and right now Lake felt pretty catty herself, like she wouldn’t mind ripping out some of the woman’s glorious, glossy, black hair from its very roots.

Looking down at herself, Lake suddenly felt too demure—too contrived, too prissy—in her rose-adorned, red chiffon dress. Why hadn’t she gone for something that screamed sex, like the socialite had, so that it reverberated off the walls? She was no match for that woman. Especially not in the chest area, even if the socialite’s rack wasn’t what God had naturally given her. It didn’t matter. She was every inch as glamorous as a man like Hunter required. Lake could only ever be a mere distraction.

Lake’s earlier confidence had now seeped below the second storey to the bottom floor below. No beneath that. Deep down through the concrete foundation to the muddy dirt. She may as well just turn on her red, satin heels now and call it a night. The gallery could tell her how just how much she’d sold in the morning.

Just as her mind was made up, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hunter give the socialite a chaste kiss on the cheek and then expertly maneuver her to one side as easily as though she was a silver ball being knocked away in a pinball machine. Almost without breaking his stride, he continued on toward Lake.

Now Hunter was just a foot’s length away from Lake, still staring at her. She breathed in his woody scent as though to clear her head, but it only made her woozier. She wanted to throw herself at him. Suck on his bottom lip, like, forever. But there were oodles of people here. She had to be a professional. She didn’t even know what Hunter’s parting gift really meant.

‘So…’ Hunter said at last, a dimple carving into his tanned, right cheek. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

The words thrust Lake right back to the present. Instinctively, she whacked him on the chest with her satin clutch. ‘Fancy seeing you here, you mean! When I told you where my exhibition was, I didn’t think you’d actually turn up.’

Hunter gave a careful shrug of his shoulders. ‘Can’t a gallery owner keep an eye on his premises?’

Lake spluttered disbelievingly. ‘You…you own this place? C’mon! You didn’t say anything when I mentioned it earlier.’

Hunter shrugged again. ‘I prefer to keep my investments low-key. That’s why I’m what you call a silent owner of this place.’

Lake saw the honesty burning in his eyes. He really did own this place, which shouldn’t have been so hard to believe to begin with. He seemed to have pots and pots of money, after all, despite his disheveled appearance earlier on. ‘Well, Ms. Socialite of the Year didn’t seem to give a damn who you were—or weren’t,’ Lake pressed on. ‘She still couldn’t keep her claws off you.’

Hunter leaned in close, causing Lake to almost faint at the proximity. ‘Oh really? What do you think the cause of her interest was in me then?’

Lake crossed her eyes, knowing she’d backed herself into a corner. ‘Well, of course, you’re quite the attractive, eligible bachelor.’ There, she’d said it. ‘Though for how much longer I don’t know now that you have actual professional photos for your online dating profile.’

‘No, I don’t.’ Hunter moved an inch closer, daringly close, a smile playing at his lips.

Lake frowned and then thrust her hands on her hips. ‘Are you saying my photos aren’t professional? I mean, look around you! This is an actual exhibition.’

‘No, I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying you never gave me the photos. You took my money, but you never actually physically handed over the disc of pictures.’

Lake squinched up her forehead some more and then clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God. I’m so sorry. You’re right. How unprofessional of me! I totally forgot. My mind must have been…somewhere else. I—I can get them to you though. First thing tomorrow. I promise! I’m so, so sorry.’

‘Oh, that’s okay,’ Hunter said, his eyes sweeping up and down her body, like the beam from a lighthouse. ‘I don’t think I’ll be needing them anymore.’

‘Oh…right. Okay then.’ Lake was dumbfounded. Could he have met someone? A new plaything already? Or perhaps much more than just a plaything. The naughty silhouette must have been just a prank, after all.

Hunter smoothly changed the subject, like switching gears in his gleaming car. ‘Did you know I’m also a silent owner of the picture-framing shop across from your photography café? Well’—he gave a throaty laugh—‘not so silent anymore.’

Lake felt goose bumps prickle her skin. The shop was where she’d gotten her nudes framed for the exhibition. ‘Wow…’ she said mildly. ‘You do have a passion for the arts when it comes to your business investments, don’t you?’

Hunter nodded slowly, his eyes dropping their hold on hers to linger on her mouth momentarily. Her lips tingled as though his well-proportioned mouth was actually now pressed against them, not just his gaze. Hunter continued, ‘I’m an entrepreneur but, like I said, I love art. I could just never really find enough real inspiration for my own work before.’

Suddenly, Lake felt a confidence zip through her, a braveness, and she held his gaze steady with her own. ‘And now?’

‘And now?’ Hunter echoed. Lake suddenly felt the warmth of his strong hand pressing against the small of her back, pulling her so close to him that their lips were practically touching. ‘I’m feeling very inspired.’

With a swift movement, Lake suddenly felt her lacy, black bra being undone by strong, assured fingers. She gasped, clutching her hands to her chest automatically, trying to keep the bra from escaping toward the floor. ‘That wasn’t very nice…’

‘What about the gift I left for you in the darkroom? Was that nice?’ Hunter breathed, his eyes gleaming mischievously. So it had been him. ‘I can be a very naughty boy when I want to be. In fact, ever since I saw your photos coming into the framing shop, and then at the gallery, I just had to know whose luscious, naked body was behind those pictures. And who would come up with such a unique vision.

‘And as soon as I saw you returning to the picture framing shop through the one-way mirror from out back, where I only ever am, I knew they were self-portraits and that I just had to meet you. It wasn’t hard to find you, with the photography café being directly across the street.’

Lake felt stripped bare, barer even than the photos taunting her now from every angle.

Hunter pushed on, ‘And that’s why I came up with the whole excuse about needing better shots for an online dating profile. I saw your ad in the shop window. Honestly, I’ve never tried online dating before in my whole life, nor do I want to. It’s not my style. It was just a ploy to get close to you.’

Lake could barely breathe. ‘So…you did all of that…really?… just to meet me? But you could have just dropped by the shop and said hello or something far simpler.’

‘Well, you would have just dismissed me, Ms. Broken Heart, wouldn’t you have? Like your photos depict. Thought I wasn’t approaching you for honorable reasons.’ He raised an eyebrow at her. Right now, she wasn’t exactly thinking so honorably about him anyway.

She nodded still. He was right. ‘And…what exactly do you want from me now?’ Her lips were trembling now as much as her knees. Her unrestrained breasts jiggled against her dress’s thin, chiffon fabric.

‘Come with me,’ Hunter breathed in her ear, gripping her hand in his. Then, quick as a flash, he turned, propelling her through the crowd toward the darkened stage area. Lake felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. Would this be just like out of her dreams? The pair ramming into each other behind the double lectern? She may just hyperventilate…

Instead of slowing at the lectern, he looked over his shoulder and then pulled her with him discreetly behind the silky, midnight-blue curtains, the pair falling against the windows together, Lake looking out onto the dark night.

No one at the exhibition had appeared any the wiser. The general, throbbing humdrum continued. As soon as the cool curtain fabric fluttered against Lake’s skin, she felt Hunter’s hands at her back, unzipping her dress so that it fell like a red pool in the direction of her high-heeled feet.

Her bra had fallen off with it, so all that was left on was her matching, lacy briefs, with tiny black bows at the hips, and, of course, her high heels. Immediately, Hunter rubbed an insistent finger against the fabric between her legs, where it was already damp.

Lake gasped. Over his shoulder, beyond the glass, she could see into the dark, unblinking windows of an office building opposite, and down below, the streetlights and the now rain-slicked streets, where ant-like shapes scurried about. ‘The windows,’ she eked out, not wanting him to stop but knowing she should warn him.

He ripped down her briefs, so that they fell at her ankles, and then ran his tongue from her earlobe down to the crack of her mouth, probing his tongue in ever so slightly. ‘Who damn well cares? I want you, and I want you now.’

Then his tongue plunged fully into her mouth. It tasted exquisite, just how she’d imagined. Lake tongue-kissed him back, every part of her tingling. She could feel herself letting herself go, wreathing against him, ripping at the buttons of his white shirt, fumbling with his belt buckle.

Hunter, at last, tried to stop her hands. ‘No. Let me pleasure you first,’ his deep, velvety voice said at her ear.

‘No, I can’t bear to wait any longer,’ Lake gasped, pulling away from him momentarily. Too long they’d been playing this delicious game of cat and mouse. She wanted him inside her. ASAP.

Now poking out of his dark boxers, Hunter’s member, in the glow from the streetlight, appeared as strong and lengthy as the enlarger-produced picture had shown. There’d been no tampering with that image.

With a primal urge, Lake suddenly shook off the undies encircling her high-heel-clad feet and wrapped her legs around his waist, guiding his member inside of her, enjoying the feeling of it filling her up. Against her skin, he felt just like she’d imagined—strong and hard, in every which way. She felt herself opening up like a flower—a rose—against his touch. He smelled…mmmm…just like heaven.

They rocked against each other, Lake mildly aware that the window behind them was steaming up, as they moved back and forth rhythmically, as though in time to the music.

At the tipping point, Lake barely noticed Hunter sliding a finger into her buttocks and massaging her breasts with his other hand, as though wanting to be in contact with every inch of her. Then a feeling came over her like a tidal wave, with glass-shattering speed. She clung onto Hunter’s strong frame, digging her red-painted fingernails into his shoulders, and they both moaned with pleasure, wave after wave knocking their bodies about, like they were tiny ships in a fierce ocean.

Moments later they were standing next to one another, breathing heavily, their hands entwined, the curtain still encircling them. But just as quickly, Hunter released his grip on Lake, buttoning his shirt back up again and re-buckling his belt, leaving her shivering, vulnerable, and out of sorts. He turned swiftly, pressing his lips hard against her mouth. ‘Come past my house tomorrow. Around noon,’ he said solemnly.

Then, without another word, he pushed the curtain slightly ajar and slipped out, disappearing again into the night, leaving Lake all alone once more. Wanting. She hoped fervently that he hadn’t just gotten what he wanted and quickly tired of her.

Suddenly she felt back at square one, used and abused by the opposite sex, like she would have to pick up the fragments of her re-broken heart, along with her red dress. She had no one to blame but herself.