Fear of Falling

“Why not? Do you find me repulsive?”

“No, of course not.” She flushed. “I mean, you’re my employer. I think we should keep things between us on a professional level.”

“Ah. That again. So was that a professional kiss we shared in the dungeon?”

Damn her inability to keep from blushing around him! “A gentleman wouldn’t bring that up again.”

“Whatever led you to believe I’m a gentleman?” His tone was teasing. Before she could think of an answer, his expression sobered. “In any case, this is not a social invitation. I want you to come to the auction with me so that you’ll have the opportunity to meet some of the major players in the local art world. You’ll need to know them if you want to do a good job as my business manager.”

She couldn’t say no now, could she? First, he’d unsettled her by reminding her of the physical attraction between them, then he’d pleaded business concerns to force her to accompany him.

“The dinner’s at seven, with the auction afterward. Dress is formal,” he continued, not waiting for her answer. “Did you bring something suitable with you?”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest, resigned now to doing this. “I’ll look forward to meeting some of your colleagues.”

“I don’t think of them as colleagues. I think of them as competition.” He turned back to the painting. “This is for the cover of an erotic novel,” he said. “A new venture for me. It could lead to a lucrative sideline.” He picked up a brush and added a bit of shading to the side of the female figure’s breast. “When you go back downstairs, send Monique up here again. I want to finish roughing this in while the light is still good.”

So she was dismissed. His sudden strictly professional attitude had her more off guard than his flirtatious persona. Was that his intention—to keep her constantly unsteady, vulnerable to giving up whatever it was he wanted from her?

Or was this another way to make her think about what she wanted from him? Like the woman in the painting and the role she’d played in “Menage,” would she dictate the terms of their relationship, or surrender to what she really wanted?

SARTAIN DABBED at the painting, but his thoughts were on Natalie. Her insistence on keeping things strictly business between them was prudent and wise—but he wasn’t a man accustomed to either quality in himself or in most of those with whom he associated.

It was why Doug had hired her, of course, to act as a brake on Sartain’s freewheeling approach to life. He doubted his agent had counted on how much Natalie’s cool and lovely exterior would fire Sartain’s passions. There was something within her that called to him, so that when he was with her he felt both more settled and more stirred up. The idea both intrigued and alarmed him. Superficial physical relationships were one thing, but he’d known within seconds of meeting her that Natalie would demand much more.

Pursuing a relationship with her was risky professionally and personally, but the danger added an edge to his attraction for her. He’d decided to start slowly—by inviting her to the auction. It was a professional function, one she could reasonably be expected to attend. But a night away from the castle and the formality of the office would give him the opportunity to see if she was open to exploring this chemistry between them further.

Monique returned and took her place on the sofa, careful to arrange the drape just so. As she settled back on the pillows, she yawned. “Tell me about that woman,” she said.

“Natalie? She’s the business manager Doug hired to keep me in line.”

“Looks to me as if you’d like her to be more than a manager.”

“I’m a man who’s interested in women, Monique. That doesn’t mean I want to take every one of them to bed.”

“You want her. I saw it in your eyes the minute she walked into the room.”

He dabbed his brush in umber paint and began shading along the back of the female figure’s thighs. “I want a lot of things, but even the Great Sartain doesn’t get all of them.”

She laughed. “You shouldn’t admit it. You’ll ruin your reputation.”

“What does it say about me that being too virtuous can ruin my reputation?”

“No one is going to believe you’re virtuous. A virtuous man wouldn’t paint the way you do.”

He stepped back to consider the work in progress. It was almost there. Maybe a little more curvature to the stomach…. “You don’t think there’s virtue in my honesty?”

“Honesty?” Monique arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“I paint the dark fantasies we all have. I’m just honest enough to admit to them.”

“Speaking of fantasies, I wouldn’t mind making this one come to life.” She arched her back, stretching like a cat. “I know a friend who might be interested in joining us.”

He shook his head. “The power of fantasy is that it isn’t poisoned by reality.”

“I’ll bet if Natalie was making the offer, you wouldn’t turn her down.”

“Don’t pout. It ruins the expression I’m trying to capture for the painting.”

“You didn’t answer my question. If Natalie proposed a threesome, would you take her up on the offer?”

He shook his head. “No. If Natalie invited me into her bed, I’d want her all to myself.”

“SO WHAT did he want?” Laura met Natalie at the door of the office when she returned from her visit to Sartain’s studio.

“He wants me to go with him to the Young Artists’ Endowment Fund auction tomorrow night.”

“He asked you out?” She followed Natalie to her desk.

“No. Of course not. This is business.” She picked up her calendar and pretended to study it, not seeing anything except Sartain’s face when he’d made his request. His expression had been intense as always, but unreadable. She set the calendar back on the desk. “He wants me to meet some of the players in the art world. I need to know them in order to do my job.”

“That’s what he says, but he wants something else from you.” Laura crossed her arms over her chest. “Believe me I know. The man never met a woman he didn’t want to know better. He knew you’d object to a real date, so he presented the idea in terms you’d accept.”

The fact that the same thought had occurred to Natalie didn’t make it any more palatable. “It is important for me to know the people Sartain does business with,” she said. “This dinner is part of my job, nothing more.”

“People will talk, you know,” Laura said. “Next thing you know, your picture will be on the cover of some tabloid as ‘eccentric artist John Sartain’s newest paramour.’”

“Paramour?” Natalie laughed at the old-fashioned-sounding word. “They’ll be disappointed to discover I’m only his business manager.”

“Any woman who appears in public with Sartain is going to be linked to him in some scandalous way. He encourages it, even.”

Natalie had no doubt of this. Sartain seemed to relish his role as a hedonist. How much of that was a manufactured image and how much the true man? “Is that what happened to you?” she asked. “Did your picture show up in the tabloids?”

Laura ducked her head. “No. But we weren’t together that long. And we were very discreet.” She looked at Natalie again. “But if you go out to a public function like this, the press will be there. They’ll see you.”

“They can print anything they like about me, but it doesn’t make it true.” Natalie sat behind her desk and booted up the computer, signaling an end to the conversation.

Laura didn’t take the hint. Instead, she sat in the chair across from the desk. “Do you have a boyfriend?” she asked. “Someone in the circus maybe?”

“No.” After her brief relationship with the construction-crew member, she had kept to herself. Life in the close confines of the Cirque du Paris was not conducive to romance. There was little privacy and the fallout from breakups affected the whole company.

“That’s too bad. You could have used him as an excuse to stay away from Sartain.”

“Do you really think the prospect of another man would deter him?” The artist struck her as someone who would relish a chance for competition.

“Probably not. But it would be something.” Laura leaned forward, her tone confiding. “So what do you think of Monique? She’s been his model for three months now. Longer than almost anyone else.”

Natalie was not in the mood to discuss Monique, or to gossip about Sartain’s supposed conquests any longer. “I really need to get to work,” she said. “I’m sure you do, too.”