“Hmm, yes. There are crackers in the cabinet.”

She began to pull things out, pouring nuts into small bowls, hunting down the honey.

“How’s school?”

Wren was going to art school at Palomar, an arts college. Her messenger job paid part of her bills and had the benefit of being flexible around her classes. She was also working on her newest graphic novel and a few digital side projects. It kept her ridiculously busy, but she was never bored.

“Fine. I’m really digging my autobiographical comics course. I’ve got a digital-imaging class I’m learning a lot from.” She shrugged.

“You should bring more for me to look at. You haven’t in a while.”

It made her uncomfortable. Not to seek his opinion. She respected him as an artist. But she knew others took advantage and she never wanted him to think of her that way.

He had a hot button about it. Being used. It was part of the reason he always wore his reputation as the chain-smoking, hard-drinking, inked-up wild man in bed to keep people back. He shared part of himself with others, but he controlled just how much. She’d rather have this connection, sitting, drinking tea and eating cheese and crackers, than the bored celebrity with the big dick.

“Maybe next time.”

He took the tea to the breakfast nook and sat. She joined him, nibbling on the cheese and crackers while her tea cooled.

“What’s this piece for anyway?”

“A commissioned piece. Rich guy wants it for the front of his office building.” He shrugged.

He always acted like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Nice. That piece will absolutely make the front of any building look amazing.”

He ducked his head a moment, sipping his tea until he looked up again, gaze locking on hers. “Tell me about your work. You don’t only do what you’re told to in class. You had a graphic novel. What’s the status with that?” His tone, to an outsider, would have been imperious. An order given to an underling. Even a slight emphasis on the what you’re told to that made it clear what he thought of her need for school. It was partly the Russian in him, partly the artist thing and partly because he was one of the most supremely self-assured people she’d ever met.

At first, when she’d started delivering things to him and he’d addressed her in such a way she’d thought he hated her. Or that he was a rude asshole. Or both. But after a while she realized it was just his delivery.

When it came to his perception of art school he was most definitely abrupt. He was old school and in his opinion you had it or you didn’t so why waste time in classes? Given his path—self-taught, sold his first piece at fifteen and now routinely sold pieces for six figures—it would have been a waste of time.

But she’d been exposed to so many things in her program. So many paths she could take. She’d learned about types of art and design totally out of her major, but that would serve her anyway. What she did was different from what he did. How she took in information was part of her process.

“I’m still working on it. I’ll have it finished in a few weeks I think.”

“I want to see it. You’re very stingy with it, Wren. Didn’t I just show you mine?”

“Are you offering to show me yours if I show you mine?”

He paused, thinking over what she’d said until his mouth curved into a slow grin. “Ahh, well.” He shrugged but managed to make it dirty and suggestive. “But I did show you mine, didn’t I? Unless there’s something else you’d like to see?”

She blushed straight down to her toes. Flirting with him was big league. “Maybe so. I’ll bring it by sometime.”

“Bring it next time you come. Kelsey always has something else to make me sign so it will be soon enough.”

“All right.” She finished her tea and dusted her hands off. She didn’t want to rush off, but she’d been there nearly an hour and she had work to do. He kept getting a faraway look on his face and she knew he was thinking about his own work.

She carried the dishes back to his kitchen. “Thanks for the tea.” She moved to the entry counter and indicated the envelopes. “I need to run and you need to sign these papers.”

He frowned. “Always with the signing.”

“Poor you.”

“You have no sympathy. A hard, hard woman.” One of his brows rose as she snorted.

“Kelsey will kill me if I don’t return with these. And, if I have to come back, you have to pay a delivery fee the second time. You sign the papers, she takes care of things and makes your life easier. Seems to me, buster, you need to stop crying and pick up a pen.”

“Other people are nice to me.” He read through the papers, signing where he was supposed to.

“Meh. Stop pretending you’re not business savvy. I know you and your game. As for other people?” She rolled her eyes. “Other people want things from you. I just want your tea.”

“I have better things to offer besides tea, you know.” He waggled his brows and she laughed, though she couldn’t fight the flush building through her belly.

“Yeah? You offering any of that up?”

He signed the last sheet, tucked all the papers back into the envelope and turned to face her. “I’m not sure you have enough time for all I have to offer.”

She stepped close enough to touch the envelopes, which put her just an inch or two away from his body. “Try me.”

The moment stretched taut between them, heating slowly, deliciously. Until he stepped back with a raised brow and a harrumph. “Go on then, Wren. Bring me something more fun next time.”

She took the envelope, tucking it into her bag. “I already bring myself. Nothing is more fun than that.”

One corner of his mouth rose. “I bet.”

She turned, heading out, but paused at the door. “One of these days, you should see for yourself.”

Don’t miss

CAKE by Lauren Dane,

Available now wherever ebooks are sold.

www.Harlequin.com

Copyright © 2013 by Lauren Dane

Available now from Carina Press and Lauren Dane

Rori Simon is back in her hometown, older, stronger, and finally loving herself—and it shows. Hot men are soon knocking at her door…

Read on for an excerpt from SECOND CHANCES, available now!

You can come home again.

Bittersweet memories overwhelmed Rori as she pulled her packed sedan up her sister’s the tree-lined driveway. From the moment she’d approached the outskirts of town, the memories had rushed back.

For longer moments she’d been that girl. The fit of the self-loathing and hesitant girl who’d escaped Oakley, Tennessee as quickly as she could a decade before, had been awkward. Awkward enough she was able to finally accept that demon was finally exorcised.

She was back. For good this time. Older. Wiser. Stronger.

Her sister’s pretty pale yellow two-story house loomed at the end of the drive when Rori pulled to a stop. It didn’t take more than a minute to turn the car off and get out, slowly and a little stiffly.

The wet heat of late spring grabbed her in a bear hug as she stretched. Twelve hours in a car two days in a row was more than enough. She didn’t want to drive more than ten minutes for at least a week or two.

“Rori? That you?” The sound of her name being called pulled her out of her thoughts and she turned around with a smile for her sister as she flew down from the porch.

Joy filled her at the sight of Kelly’s still-gorgeous face. “I’m here.” Rori hurried to meet Kelly in the middle, each engulfing the other in a hug, punctuated with tears and some laughter too. It had been too long and the exile had been no one’s doing but her own.

After the hug broke, Kelly looked her up and down with a huge grin. “I like the blond. You look good, Rori. You looked good before, but you had shadows in your eyes. Now? You’re just gorgeous. Must be all the weight you lost in the form of a loser French cheating ex-boyfriend.”