"I see." Cerulean blue eyes measured her features. "And you decided that expensive finger foods such as caviar and mini beef Wellington bites would do very well."
She shrugged and smiled. A smile that punched a fist through his gut. She had tiny dimples peeking out on both cheeks. Her teeth were white and a perfect foil for lips that he had to taste.
"Any food will do. Are you going to rat me out?" That startled him out of his dazed lust and had him laughing softly.
"Rat you out?"
"Yes. Are you going to?"
"On one condition." He grinned at the suspicious look in her magnificent eyes. "You tell me your name."
"Catherine Miller."
"I am--"
"Dean Collier. I'm aware."
"Now that we're sufficiently acquainted, why don't we--" The sentence was cut off when the fascinating woman he had just met darted over to a table a few feet away. He followed her, how could he not?
"Just look at this piece." She rhapsodized. Putting her purse, which he clearly saw was the size of Idaho, she freed her hands to reverently touch a sculpture made of the most delicate and transparent glass, tinted the palest of pink. "I read about the artist on the internet." She was touching the piece reverently as if afraid to do it any damage. "She's from a little known town in Ireland and was practically homeless until she was discovered by accident by a scout."
She was staring at the piece, but he was staring at her. Her complexion was flawless, he realized, and her lashes long. She had a glow about her that set her apart.
"Her name is Mary Catherine." She continued to stare at the piece wistfully. He made up his mind then.
"How would you like to own it?"
She jerked her hand away as if she had been bitten and lifted her head to look at him.
"Don't be ridiculous. This piece costs more than I make in a couple of years." She touched it again before moving away. He should have walked away then, at least that was what he was telling himself. This sudden fascination and surge of lust for a woman he had just met was unlike him. Besides, she was not his type. She was green and looked as pure as the driven snow. He would do well to stay the hell away from her.
But Christ Almighty, he was drawn to her.
"How about a number?" She was staring at a particularly violent piece that was Jackson Colby's usual signature.
"Pardon?"
He almost smiled at the prim and proper tone. "Your phone number. We could go for dinner or coffee, depending on the time of day." He closed the gap between them, eyes intent on hers. "I like you Catherine."
She stepped back, hands fluttering as she clasped her purse in front of her as if using it as a shield. He was too handsome, too magnetic, too everything and she knew of his reputation. She did not belong with this crowd at all. The coveted invitation had come from a parent who had another engagement and could not make it. Catherine had been delighted when it was offered to her.
"No," she said firmly, chin lifting. "I said I know who you are. I try my best not to believe everything I read about celebrities, but your reputation preceded you. I'm not the type to be dazzled by a handsome face and boatloads of money." She stepped further back. "You have the wrong person. Please excuse me."
He considered going after her as she hurried away and down the steps but decided against it. Watching her until she was out of sight, he turned to the hovering gallery employee. Ignoring the blatant invitation in her eyes, he jerked his head towards the piece. "Have it wrapped up and sent to my place."
"Yes, Mr. Collier." She purred.
He stayed a few more minutes, but with Catherine gone, the shine had gone out of the evening. Saying his goodbyes to his very hurt and disappointed date, he left.
*****
"Hey there Galahad." Dropping her now empty purse on the gleaming hardwood floor, she made room for the enthusiastic greeting from her half-breed companion. "Have you been a good boy?" Scratching behind his floppy ears, she sent the animal into a frenzy of delight that had him licking her face as he stood on two paws and planted the other two on her shoulders.
"Okay, enough boy." Wriggling free, she snapped her fingers and had him padding after her obediently. She had adopted him a year ago when she went to the animal shelter to help out. One look at the soulful eyes had her snapping him up. He had been small, barely two years old then, but had grown into his large paws in leaps and bounds and was her faithful companion.
Sliding out of her sandals, she rummaged around for a packet of her special tea before putting the kettle on.
"I made some people happy tonight." She searched for a treat and handed it to him. "A couple of homeless guys I saw when I was going to the gallery." She took out a cup and put the pouch in. "They appreciated the meal." Her chuckle disappeared as she recalled how she had been forced to leave before she wanted to.