Page 4 of You Make Me Feel
“Zachary.” She rolls her eyes at me. “What’s wrong with it? It’s pretty.”
I sigh, because I don’t want to have this conversation now. And I certainly don’t want to make my sister furious about a damn painting. “It’s mediocre. Perfectly fine for what you’re using it for, but it’s not exactly going to haunt anyone.”
I soften it with a smile, but I can already tell it landed badly. This is why I should have stuck with nice, damn it.
“Mediocre?” The voice is sharp, controlled. Distinctly feminine.
And itdefinitelydoesn’t belong to Eden.
I turn to see the redhead I barged into earlier walking up behind us, and something deep inside of me tightens. She’s staring right at me, her shoulders held high, revealing her smooth, pale skin, dotted with freckles. Her pink lips are parted like she’s readying herself to say more.
And that dress, the way it hugs her like it’s tailored with intent. It makes me wonder what it’s hiding underneath.
Eden groans, like I’m ruining her life. “He didn’t mean it like that. He just…”
“I know exactly what he meant.” Her tone is short. Her eyes don’t leave mine. Her chin lifts and I clock it immediately.
This woman does not back down.
Christ, I like that way too much. In another time, in another life…
I blink that thought away. “I take it you’re responsible for this piece?” I murmur, trying to look unfazed by her. Even if I can’t pull my gaze away.
“Responsible, yes,” she says coolly. “Apologetic, no.”
I take a sip of champagne, slow, deliberate, my gaze drifting over her face, her posture, the fire in her eyes. “Then you must run a very lucrative business. Selling safe, pretty things to people who don’t know any better.”
I don’t even know why I say it. Just to rile her, I think. Because I like the way her auburn brows look like fire on her pretty face.
And also, because deep down, I’m apparently a bit of an asshole.
Her eyes flash and the redhead steps closer. Close enough that I can smell the floral notes of herskin again. “And you must be the kind of man who confuses expensive with meaningful. I’d rather sell art people love than lock it away in some billionaire’s vault to rot.”
So this is Sadie. The owner of Books by the Sea, the shop that my sisters keep raving about. I guess I’d imagined her looking a little more librarian-like. And a lot less like she’s got a body made for sin.
A low laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. Rough. Honest. “I’m pretty sure you don’t care what I think.”
She tilts her head, red hair brushing her shoulder. “I don’t,” she says, her eyes challenging mine.
The air between us tightens. I feel it settle in my chest, that familiar spark of challenge and need. I’ve always been attracted to feisty women.
Then my sister steps back abruptly. Fuck, I’d forgotten she was even here. “Right. I’m going to check on the dessert table. Or the string quartet. Or anything that doesn’t involve me standing in the middle of whatever this is.”
Eden shoots me a sharp look that tells me to behave myself before she disappears, leaving me alone with the redhead and a piece of art neither of us is thinking about anymore.
“Sadie, I take it,” I murmur.
She lifts a brow. “Zach Fitzgerald,” she says back. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you but…” She trails off, her head tipping to the side, the curve in her neck is as pleasurable to look at as a piece of exquisite art.
I open my mouth to apologize to her. To tell her that I was just trying to rile up my sister. The way I always did growing up. But before I can say a word she’s turning away from me.
Again.
And for some reason that makes my blood heat up.
She walks away, her head held high, her hips swaying softly beneath that blue-and-white dress that in another life I’d scheme to get on my bedroom floor.
I squeeze the bridge of my nose between my fingers.Focus, Fitzgerald.
