Grounded (Up in the Air, #3)(87)

“Thank you,” I told him simply, feeling my eyes get just a touch moist. The damned man made me so emotional. And he had a way with words that got me every time. “I love you to distraction, James.”

His eyes smiled into mine. “Yes. I love you like that. The world went from black and white and into color when I laid eyes on you, my love. There’ll be no going back.”

It was such a perfect moment that I had to beat back those evil doubts in my mind that told me something this perfect just had to come to a short, bad end. Life can just be good, I told myself. This bad feeling is not a premonition. Nothing bad will happen to us. I’d had to tell this to myself a lot lately.

Towards the end of the evening, Tristan bought my largest landscape and a smaller still-life. Frankie bought a painting as well. It was a watercolor of the fat cat from my yard. She said she was going to put it up in her tattoo shop for the world to see. She even harassed James that he should give her the portrait of me that had inspired the tattoo on his back. He took it well, which told me he’d forgiven her for the tattoo on my back.

Sven bought one of my small acrylic paintings of a desert flower.

I insisted repeatedly that he didn’t have to buy anything.

“I want to,” he told me firmly. “It would mean a lot to me to have something that you made hanging in my home, and I love this picture.”

“I’ll paint you something for free! You shouldn’t have to pay thirteen grand just for a reminder. It’s not too late to change your mind.”

He shook his head. “No. This is perfect. Though, if you ever want to paint me something, I certainly won’t dissuade you!”

It warmed me and embarrassed me a little that everyone was being so supportive.

As the night grew to a close, I felt giddy with the realization that I’d actually enjoyed myself. The evening had far exceeded my expectations. My nerves hadn’t allowed me to look forward to the launch of my new career, but I loved that I could look back on my debut with relief and pleasure. It was over, and it had actually been a success.

There was a small blemish on the evening, as we took our leave of the gallery.

The gallery was a large three-story building, set up in a trendy area and situated adjacent to the Cavendish L.A. hotel and sharing a back parking lot with that property. We exited out of the front, where we had entered. A small red carpet had been set up outside for photo ops prior to the event. A fairly polite crowd of photographers had snapped shots of us going in. A larger crowd had gathered by the time we left, very late into the evening. I was surprised they’d waited so long. And even stranger to me was the crowd of bystanders gathered behind them, just watching for our departure.

James maneuvered himself closer to the crowd, though there was a barricade that separated them. He threw an arm around my shoulders, his opposite hand moving to the diamond hoop attached to my choker.

We had made it maybe six steps when there was a collective gasp from the crowd, and I turned just in time to see Blake jump a few inches into the air and catch a large plastic cup in her hand mid-air. The lid of the thing flew off, and dark soda and ice went flying in every direction, but it was still an impressive catch. It had been aimed at either James, myself, or both, but not even a drop of it reached us. Blake was drenched. She looked unperturbed about her own wet shirt and face. She threw the cup on the ground and scanned the crowd, a very hostile look on her face.

It was as though the drink throwing had opened a floodgate. People began to shout lewd comments in our direction. I couldn’t make them all out, but the loudest comments seemed to be coming from women, and aimed at James.

“You are so f*cking hot!” a woman shrieked.

“With a dick that huge, you can spank me anytime!” another one shouted.

It was all so silly that a giggle escaped me as Clark ushered us into the limo. Blake followed us in.

“Good catch, Blake,” James said. “I’m giving you a raise for not letting a drop of that reach Bianca.”

She nodded solemnly. “Just doing my job, sir.”

Her response sobered me up a little, because I began to think about just what her job was. If it had been a bullet instead of a drink, she probably would have done the same thing. I hated that. I didn’t want to get hurt, but the thought of someone being harmed in my place seemed even worse to me.





[page]CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Mr. Matchmaker





I barely took a breath after my last flight before it was time for our trip to Japan. I was more excited than I’d ever been about a trip as we got ready. I’d traveled a lot for work, but always for short trips with short layovers, more work than play, and something as frivolous as two solid weeks of being a tourist was such a treat. James would have to work a little, he’d told me, since we were visiting his Tokyo property, but even he would be off work for the majority of the trip.

I knew it was a very long flight—we could be on the plane for up to fourteen hours, and that those hours would feel like days, but my mind was already in Tokyo as we boarded the jet.

James was doing his usual control freak buckling me in thing when he informed me of a minor detour. “We’re going to go have lunch in Maui first,” he said, his tone idle.

My brow furrowed. It seemed a little out of the way… “Maui?” I asked him.

He shrugged and gave me his most charming smile. “I want you to guess why.”