The Game

“I’m sorry.”

I turned to face him. “You’re happy?”

“Ned’s easygoing so we’re a good fit.”

“I’m so happy to hear that.”

He reached over and squeezed my hand. “No bad boys, okay? No matter how much we want to jump their bones.”

He made me chuckle.

“Any decent man would snap you up in a heartbeat,” he added.

Half an hour later we’d arrived on Grand Avenue in downtown LA and were pulling up to the striking honeycombed structure of The Broad. Gabe handed over his car keys to the valet and we headed on in.

Within minutes we were sipping bubbly from tall flutes and sighing with happiness at being back in our natural habitat. With over two thousand paintings and sculptures to view we were in our element. This high-ceilinged space with the remnants of daylight flowing through ornate windows and highlighting all this modern elegance.

A waiter took our empty glasses and we rode the escalator through the second-floor ceiling, the design providing a womb-like feel as we ascended. At the top, we were met by an awe-inspiring sculpture by Jeff Koons, a glorious display of enormous gathered tulips in bright colors including gold, blue, purple and green—all lying upon a thin white base.

Strolling into another room, our attention was captured by a three-dimensional design resting on a high table. At one end was a small body of water that burst from a steel container and morphed into a waterfall, pouring into a cavern which turned a large wheel. Beyond that it ran into a small-scale hallway and within its walls shot out vibrant blue miniature electric rays crisscrossing each other.

“What’s this one?” asked Gabe.

I studied the gold plaque on the side. “Mousetrap for the Inevitable.” I read on, “‘Designed to draw out the subject and test its endurance.’”

Gabe stepped forward. “‘Where usually form follows function, here American architect E. B.’s design represents form as art reflecting the power of self-regulation.’”

I pointed to the water forcing the wheel around. “It’s an ingenious mechanism.”

“What happens to the mouse?”

My cringe was my answer as I mused over the kind of person who had invented this. I respected modern art and was thrilled to pass by the striking pieces by Andy Warhol, Cindy Sherman and Barbara Kruger, all of them making my heart soar. We made our way through the well-dressed crowd who’d gathered for the reception. I paused awhile to admire The Balloon Dog, an enormous blue balloon-shaped masterpiece by Koons. It was such a fun piece and Gabe joked how he could only afford the miniature one sold in the gift shop.

He pointed out his young student Terrance Hill, who was greeting guests across the showroom. Gabe shared with me how the young man was fatherless and yet his inspiring talent and determination had earned him a scholarship at UCLA.

Gabe stared on proudly. “Terrance excelled in my art history class but found his true calling is modern art. He has my blessing, of course.”

The bright young star with neat dreadlocks wore the brightest smile, and I guessed the pretty fortysomething black woman by his side was his proud mom.

We headed on over to them to offer our congratulations. Terrance was enjoying his well-deserved praise as private collectors swarmed him, wanting to meet this gifted young man who’d set the art world alight.

His paintings were featured around the walls. Gabe and I took our time to admire each one and I marveled at Terrance’s gift of layering colors and his use of texture. He was being hailed as a young Jackson Pollock and I could see why.

Turning to face the crowd, my breath caught when I saw a vision of pure masculine beauty—Tobias Wilder.

He was here.

Sipping from an amber drink and looking ridiculously sharp in a black tuxedo with his hair predictably ruffled to perfection, so damn gorgeous as he smiled his response to something a middle-aged couple were saying to him. God, now he was doing that thing where he arched his brows as he listened with sincerity, seemingly engrossed in conversation, his left hand tucked into his trouser pocket as he leaned forward to engage with them.

A jolt of reality hit me when I saw his ex-girlfriend and powerhouse attorney Logan Arquette standing beside him. She was wearing a pretty green gown and her usual cold glare.

My body froze when Tobias’s stare found me in the crowd and his expression reflected intrigue.

“Is that Tobias Wilder?” asked Gabe quietly.

“Yes.”

He snapped his head to look at me. “You’ve met him?”

I managed a subtle nod, though kept my stare on Wilder.

“Where?” Gabe sounded incredulous.

“London. He’s a client of Huntly Pierre.” A quick glance over at Gabe told me that placated him.

I wondered how Tobias felt about me evading his driver yesterday.

Gabe grabbed my arm. “He’s coming this way.”

Tobias and Logan strolled toward us, confidently nodding here and there at the other guests who parted respectfully for them.

My back straightened as they neared us and I decided to go with a customary, “Mr. Wilder, nice to see you again.”

Gabe flashed me another look of surprise.

Tobias gave a warm smile. “Zara.”

A seductive chill spiraled up my spine and I went for my best stony-faced expression to match his amused demeanor.

Wilder wore that dazzling suit as though some artisan had carved it over his muscular physique to highlight his firm chest and broad shoulders, and his grin widened just enough to hide that he was strategizing.

“It’s my pleasure to introduce Professor Gabe Anderson, art historian.” I gestured to them. “Tobias Wilder and Logan Arquette.”

“Nice to see you, Zara.” Logan’s tone lacked sincerity and she looked triumphant as her arm wrapped through Tobias’s in a blatant gesture of possessiveness. Her flirting was being used against me to lessen my resolve.

“Quite the exhibition,” said Tobias.

Gabe responded with praise for Tobias’s own gallery and he told him how much he loved The Wilder’s reputation for its exclusive exhibits they were famed for.

“We have something very special coming to The Wilder.” Logan zeroed in on Gabe. “It’s something you’ll find particularly appealing if you love history.”

“Top secret for now,” added Tobias, fixing his attention on me.

The full force of his power hit me and his stare held me captive.

A memory flittered through my mind of the way he’d once touched me; a mesmerizing strength and tenderness and there came a stark recollection of the way he made me come so very hard.

Think about something else.