Unforgettable: Book Three (A Hollywood Love Story #3)(77)

“What are you doing here?” I gasped.

“The artist’s son, Jaime Zander, is my best friend. I want to introduce you to him. He’s the head of the advertising agency that’s doing our upfront presentation.”

“I’d love to meet him,” I stammered, soaking him in.

God, he looked delicious! In head-to-toe black: tight-ass jeans that hung low on his hips, an unzipped leather battle jacket that broadened his already broad shoulders, and a T-shirt that clung to his defined pecs. Sexy black leather boots finished off his ensemble. I quickly shifted my vision back to his face, staying away from anything below his waist. His eyes burnt into mine.

“So answer my question about the painting.”

I swiveled around to take another look. My eyes absorbed the subtleties and innuendos. “It moves me. I can tell the artist was extremely in love with his former wife. There’s so much passion in his strokes.”

“Very impressive and perceptive. You must have taken quite a few art history courses in college.”

“I only took one.” My voice was shaky. “So, what does the painting do for you?”

“It makes me hot.”

A sudden chill ran down my spine and that familiar tingling sensation gathered between my thighs. I was heating up. Stay cool. I turned around to face him.

“Do all naked women make you hot, Mr. Burns?”

“Only beautiful ones.” He eyed me from head to toe. “And I must say, Ms. McCoy, you happen to look extremely beautiful tonight.”


“Thanks,” I stammered, all hot and bothered. I moved on to the next painting with Blake hot on my trail.

This painting was an early portrait of the artist with his wife. Her bare, contoured back faced me; the artist’s hand was tugging on her waist-length ebony ponytail, pulling her head back. It was called The Kiss. I stared at it wordlessly, mesmerized. A rush of emotion poured through my veins. My eyes teared up. I’d never been so profoundly affected by a piece of art. It was not what I saw that moved me, but what I didn’t see. His lips consuming hers. The fire. A flame of passion and desire. I could feel what Delilah was feeling all the way to my toes. My chest rose, my heart thudded, and my breath caught in my throat. All time stood still.

“Do you like this painting?” Blake’s soft voice brought me out of my trance-like state and back to the moment.

“I love it.” My voice was thin and watery. I knew what this kiss felt like. I’d experienced it. Only once. Blindfolded. With a beautiful stranger.

Blake’s warm hands splayed across my bare shoulders. His breath heated my neck. I was paralyzed. And then he whispered in my ear.

“It’s special, isn’t it, Jen—”

“Blake, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

A shrill, unfamiliar voice cut him short. Blake’s hands jumped off my shoulders. We pivoted on our heels at once. Facing us was a drop-dead gorgeous blond goddess, dressed in a low-cut, body-hugging black mini dress that revealed her melon-sized boobs, clearly fake, and mile-high shapely legs that were anchored in stilt-like shoes. She looked familiar to me—maybe a supermodel or actress.

Blake’s face flushed visibly as he gulped. “Kitty—”

“It’s Kat,” she hissed. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

Blake’s jaw tightened. I held back laughter. My urge to laugh was short-lived.

Kitty-Kat narrowed her predatory cat-green eyes at me. Her long, lacquered nails morphed into claws. I shuddered. I could mentally feel them dragging down my flesh. She hissed again. “Blake’s with me.”

She intimidated me. But worse, a bolt of jealousy shot through me. This was Blake’s type. Tall, blond, and gorgeous. Even in my sexy LBD and heels, I paled next to her.

“Well, I should be going.”

A triumphant smile snaked across Kitty-Kat’s full crimson lips. Blake looked flustered.

“Tiger, wait. Don’t go!”

Just as I was about to flee, Bradley returned with an iced tea in his hand. His eyes darted from me to Kitty-Kat to Blake.

“Why it’s you again,” he sneered.

“This is my boss, Blake—”

Bradley cut me off. “Oh, your boss? The one who practically bit off my fingers.”

I chewed my bottom lip, on the verge of laughter. What was wrong with me? I should be feeling sorry for my poor fiancé. Blake shot me a wry look and shrugged.

“It was an accident.”

Steam was coming out of Bradley’s nostrils. I could practically see it. His lips snarled, his shoulders hunched, and his hands fisted. He had a major anger management issue and could easily be roused.

He grabbed my hand and jerked me away. “I’ve had enough. We’re out of here.”

Wordlessly, I let Bradley drag me through the crowd, the tumbler of champagne still in my hand. I felt like hurling it at him. Only steps away from the entrance to the gallery, I turned my head to look back.

Blake Burns had not moved. His eyes bored into mine, and I realized they had never left me.





Chapter 15

Jennifer


The ride back to Bradley’s place was steeped in cold silence. Bradley was in one of his moods. His hands were tight on the wheel of his Prius, and his lips were pressed tight in a thin, tense line. Whenever he got into one of these bad moods, which lately was often, he preferred to listen to talk radio than to talk to me.