Without hesitation, she slammed her knee into his exposed crotch.
But he did not go down. Did not even grunt. Just kept grinning at her, his teeth long and sharp and…
Are those fangs?
Charley did not waste time second guessing. She threw herself forward, the unexpected move buying her a momentary reprieve from his clutches, but then he was right back in her face again, hauling her against the brick wall of his chest as he kicked the door shut behind them.
The door did not slam, though, someone caught it "Is everything all right in here?" A smooth, deep-voiced English accent wrapped around her like a hot bath, and when the man it belonged to stepped inside, Charley gasped.
It was him. Her fantasy man from the lobby.
Perfect timing, hot stuff.
He took one look at the scene, giant asshole manhandling her like a rag doll, her belongings scattered on the floor, and his body went rigid.
"Reuben Ducane," he said, his tone so dark, Charley's skin erupted in goosebumps.
But that was all it took. One word, one look, and the asshole released her "You two are… acquainted?" The creep, Ducane, stepped away from Charley like she was radioactive.
Ignoring the question, the man turned to her and held out his arm "They are almost ready to start the bidding, love. Shall we?"
Love? God, the sweet seduction in his voice made her ache. She took the offered arm, surprised at how firm his forearm muscle was, thick and taut beneath a soft wool suit jacket.
Ducane narrowed his eyes, but Charley would not give him the satisfaction of calling them out. Flashing a smug smile, she said to her man, "You were right, honey. These auctions do bring out the douchebags."
"I warned you" He winked at her, but when he turned back to the other guy, it felt like someone sucked all the air out of the room.
Tension simmered between them. Clearly, they knew each other. Clearly, they were not friends. They seemed to be having an entire conversation with nothing more than dirty looks and threatening scowls.
Finally, Ducane backed off, exiting the room with grunt of annoyance and Charley blew out a breath, her heart rate slowing back to normal.
"Are you hurt?" the man asked, crouching down to pick up her things.
"I will survive. That asshole a friend of yours?"
"He will not bother you again."
"Better fucking not" She reached out to collect her purse and the taser, the slightest brush of his fingertips sending a zing of pleasure up her arm. "Prick was this close to getting fifty thousand volts up his ass."
She kept the taser in hand, just in case.
The man chuckled and shook his head, and Charley snapped her mouth shut, stashing the Jersey girl back inside. She was supposed to be a wealthy art collector, and art collectors did not go around tasing random creeps at auctions or cursing like scrappy bitches in front of polite company.
Shit, shit, shit. Tonight was not going according to plan.
"Thanks for the save," she said, searching for a way to break free of his heated gaze. "I should… check my messages. My boss is… messaging me."
Smooth, Charley. Real smooth.
Cringing, she traded her weapon for the phone, turning it back on vibrate. A dozen notifications flooded in from Roby, but there was a text from her sister too, no note, just a picture of a huge cucumber strategically positioned between two shriveled avocados.
"Your boss sends you pictures of erotic vegetable art?" the man asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
Damn. She had not realized he was standing so close. "That one is from my sister," she said.
His eyes sparkled with mischief and intrigue, a combination that was quickly unraveling her. "Which begs the question… Your sister sends you pictures of erotic vegetable art?"
"It is… kind of a thing with us. Last night I sent her one with two bananas with whipped cream on the tips, and…" Charley caught herself and shook her head, dropping the phone back into her purse. "Why am I telling you this?"
"Maybe I am easy to talk to."
You are easy to look at, that's for sure…
He held her gaze another beat, his smile making her heart sputter, then placed his hand on the small of her back "Follow me."
I follow no man, Charley thought. The words were poised on the tip of her tongue, but instead of voicing them, she inexplicably gave in to the light pressure of his touch, heading back out into the hallway and wondering why the hell his presence made her so damn lightheaded.
The walk from the bedroom was a blur, but when the fog finally cleared from her head, Charley found herself seated at the bar, furiously studying a cocktail napkin while her mystery man ordered drinks.
Shock. That is all it was. And now that the last of it was fading, it was time to escort herself right on out of there. One drink was usually her on – the – clock max, and she was not a big fan of accepting gifts from strangers, either they always wanted something in return.
But she also sensed he was not the kind of guy who took no for an answer. Not a stellar quality in a man, but in certain situations? It drove her wild. This was one of those situations.
Besides, she was feeling rebellious now. Roby had her working at auctions and charity events nearly every night this month, each one demanding a new identity, private collector, curator, estate lawyer, art student.
The whole arrangement was giving her whiplash. And that was not even accounting for the rich assholes she ran into on the regular. Granted, they had not all tried to corner her in a bedroom like Ducane, but you never knew. Sometimes, words and threats could do just as much damage as hands and teeth.
A shiver rolled through her body as she remembered the ice in that awful man's eyes, the bruising grip of his fingers. She did not see him among the guests now, but he had to be around somewhere.
Charley was good with gut feelings, and right now, she could feel the asshole's eyes on her, crawling over her skin. As if he could sense her nerves, the man shifted his barstool closer, their arms brushing as he settled in.
His presence calmed her, even as it riled her up inside. As he spoke with the bartender, she stared at his lush mouth, imagining what it would feel like running over her lips, down her neck, down to her…
"You seem to be having quite a think," he mused, turning to look at her full on.
Fucking hell, he was gorgeous. Something about his eyes… Golden-brown, threaded with rich undertones she could have sworn kept changing color. And that mouth…
Charley cleared her throat, blinking away at the images of his red - hot kisses "Maybe I was. Thinking about things, I mean."
He leaned in close, warm breath stirring the fine hairs on her neck "Wicked things, I hope."
Damn him. She held back a shiver. That deep, liquid voice and sexy accent were enough to drive any woman wild, but his gorgeous honey-brown eyes, tousled black hair, and the confident, masculine way he carried himself sealed the deal. Even sitting down, he projected the kind of energy that could command a room.
Or a bedroom…
Charley's thighs clenched in a weak attempt to staunch her throbbing desire.
"Wicked thoughts," she replied, "are the only ones that make these events bearable."
He laughed, loosening his tie and releasing a button at the top of his white dress shirt. His smile was dazzling, equally rakish and warm, the kind of smile that warned of dangerous, delicious things to come. "So, it is not the pleasant company?"
"Tonight? Not so much."
He did not respond, just pinned her with his fiery gaze until the arrival of their drinks broke the heated connection.
She had no idea how he had guessed her favorite drink, but he passed her the Sapphire and tonic, raising his scotch in a toast "To better company."
"Mine or yours?" she teased.
"That, love, remains to be seen." They clinked glasses and drank, their eyes locked in an unspoken dare.
Here's a man who can dish it out and take it too. Yum.