My hand is still on the hard wall of his chest, the thundering of his heart that tells me he’s affected by what he’s spoken. Words that suddenly read like a confession that I don’t understand. I’m affected by him. He consumes me, so easily he consumes me, and though I know deep down that he is too close to all that I have run from, I can’t seem to run from him. Instead, I find myself wanting to know more, to understand him.
He turns me to face the direction Chris walked, leaning in to whisper, “Hurry back.”
I hesitate and then turn to face him. “I’m not leaving,” I say and I said the words because I meant them and because for indiscernible reasons I feel that he needs to hear them.
A flicker of something in the depths of his stare is there and gone before he cups my head, kisses me, and then turns me around again. “Good. Now hurry, baby.”
I don’t know how the word “baby” spoken by this man weakens my knees quite so completely, but coming from Kace August, it melts me right here in this hallway.
Still, somehow, I start walking, the weight of his stare hot and heavy, but the bathroom is close. I slip inside the single-occupant space and lock the door. I lean against it and stare into the mirror directly across from me. What is happening to me?
My cellphone rings and thinking it might be Crystal, I quickly snag it from my purse to find an unknown number. It could be a client. It could be Crystal calling from a phone inside the auction house. It could be Gio. My hand trembles as I punch the button. “Hello?”
There’s crackling in the background and I’m almost certain that I hear a female voice. I push off the door and desperation and gut instinct overtakes me. “Sofia?” I say because it just feels right.
Suddenly the line is silent, even the crackling fading. And then it goes dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I’m haunted by that call for no good reason.
It was a butt dial, I tell myself. Someone called me by accident.
Wasn’t it? Didn’t they?
A full minute of me staring at my screen passes and I force myself to slide my phone back into my purse, to move on. I hurry to the sink, where I re-apply my missing lipstick. Missing because Kace kissed me. Because he keeps kissing me. And I keep letting him kiss me. I keep kissing him. And liking it. I really like it and him. So much, but I’m not overthinking this—whatever this is—going on between us. Okay, I will overthink every moment with this man, because that’s what I do, just not now. I’ll wait until later tonight when I’m home alone in my own bed.
Right now, Kace is waiting for me and hundreds of people are waiting for him.
I finger comb my hair, and then I rush to the door, but I pause with a jolt of my mind that shoots me right back to that call. If it was truly a butt dial, why did my gut tell me it was Sofia? And it did. There’s a knock on the door, and I chide myself for holding up Kace when the show must go on.
I open the door and suck in a breath to find Kace standing right there, right in front of me, his hand pressed to the doorjamb, his snug T-shirt stretched across an impressive chest. His big, perfect body is the best kind of barrier a girl could wish for. He catches my hand and steps me into him, tingling sensations darting up my arm and across my chest.
“Ready?” he asks, a rough masculine push beneath the question.
“Why do I feel as if that question could mean a million things with you?”
Mischief floods his blue eyes. “Because your mind is presently someplace I, unfortunately, can’t visit with you until after this event.”
“Shouldn’t you be out there already?”
“I have about three minutes, which means you need to get back out front.” He slides his arm around me and just that easily, we are in motion down the empty hallway.
“Showtime, August!”
At the sound of Chris’s voice behind us, Kace twists around and walks backward. “Hell yeah, man. Let’s go do this big for a big cause.”
“Is there any other way?” Chris asks.
We arrive at the door leading to the auction room and Kace rotates, placing himself between me and Chris, his hand settling possessively at my waist. “There is no other way,” he says softly. “Not if you really want something.” And suddenly I don’t think he’s talking about the show anymore. He cups my face. “Don’t leave without me.” He doesn’t give me time to reply. He opens the door and the clink and clatter of glasses mixes with the hum of voices. Crystal’s voice sounds over the speakers as she speaks to the crowd, the urgency of me taking my seat quite clear.
“Good luck, Kace,” I whisper, and dare to kiss his cheek.
I see a fleeting moment of heat in his eyes and something else, something indiscernible I desperately wish that I could read before I rotate away from him and into the auction room. With fast steps, I quickly travel past the stage to the seating area that is now stacked with bodies, the lights low, muting faces. The other guests can see me but I can’t see them. Discomfort rattles around inside me, the defensive instincts drilled into me my entire life telling me to shy away from the spotlight. But that’s impossible, as there’s nowhere to go but into the spotlight right now, especially considering I’m the guest of one of the stars of the night right upfront.
Finally, I settle into my seat next to Sara, and just in time too as Crystal has stepped away from the podium and the lights go down. Sara grabs my hand. “I’m so excited and nervous.”
Marvin’s guitar screams roughly, wildly through the air and the music shoots adrenaline through me. I’m here, in the front row, when Kace August is about to play while Chris Merit paints. I’m here, living life, experiencing the past, the present—and on some level, I believe—my future, right here, right now. Gio was right. I never live life. Ever. But I am now, and there is no denying the thrill that comes with this night, and every moment I’ve spent with Kace, really with myself, out in the real world. I squeeze Sara’s hand. “Me, too.”
Little white lights twinkle in a musical formation when suddenly a violin starts playing the dramatic intense notes of a cover of “Bitter Sweet Symphony” by The Verve.
The lights come up and Kace is right in front of me, playing while Chris is to my right, painting. The crowd explodes into applause, while drums manned by a tall man with black hair streaked blue accents the drama. Sara and I slowly release each other and relax into the show as it’s so very clear that Kace and Chris are magical together. Chris’s canvas becomes a bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge, and I soon realize as Kace’s music morphs into an intense, edgy rendition of “Back in Black” by AC/DC, he’s right beside Chris. Chris’s hand moves with the mood of the music, more jutted action to his strokes, and buildings begin to appear on his canvas.
Song after song, the room absorbs every moment of the show, and when finally, Chris’s canvas is done, he stands, and Kace lowers his violin. Side by side, they take a bow, and when Kace’s gaze slides to me, his lips curve as he gives me a wink. My stomach flutters and I erupt in applause with the rest of the room.