Fantasy Man Read online

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  Chapter Two

  Suddenly, I See

  Ansley looked up, fingers wrapped around his disposable coffee cup, and stilled at the sight of the woman making her way through the shop's clear glass doors. She was even more arresting in person.

  The picture on Sophia Feathermoore's Web site had not done her justice.

  Her wild, ebony mane appeared even more lustrous in the evening light. Her skin was creamier, a richer mahogany tone than her picture had illustrated, and her eyes ... Even from across the room, the large dark pools of her espresso eyes seemed to pull him in and never let him go.

  She moved with a vibrancy that spoke of determination. Her every step was purposeful as she searched the café for someone she recognized. She walked deeper into the coffee shop and looked over the people. Her gaze skimmed over him and continued. Belatedly, Ansley realized she had no idea what he looked like. The truth must have hit her at the same time because she stilled and frowned at the room.

  He knew he needed to stand or wave her over, but Ansley was loath to move from his spot. He relished the fact that he could watch her in secrecy. Her simple head shot had not given him an indication of her body, and what a body it was.

  Sophia was all curves. She might have been considered plus-sized by the public, but Ansley believed she was the perfect size for him. Bountiful breasts, wide hips, and long legs. She looked to be approximately five feet ten. At six-four, Ansley appreciated things capable of handling his large size.

  And Sophia looked more than capable as far as he was concerned. He felt his cock jerk with interest within his simple Dockers pants as he stood and waved at Sophia.

  She stared at him for a moment before making her way to him. Ansley gritted his teeth as she made her way over to him. Before Sophia had masked her feelings, he had seen surprise on her face. She had not been expecting him to look as he did.

  Ansley was used to the reaction. At least he should have been. He got it often in his line of work. He did not look like he belonged in the fine arts business. He was a hard-edged man with features that attested to his character. One client had even gone so far as to point out the fact that Ansley looked like a military man.

  As I should. The armed forces are in my blood. He was the latest in a long line of Westwick men who'd served their country.

  The sharp spike of feeling he felt in reaction to Sophia's look of astonishment surprised him. Ansley had seen the look on countless clients’ faces. It never affected him before.

  But she's different.

  "Westwick, Mr. Ansley Westwick.” Sophia stopped right in front of his table.

  "Yes.” Ansley gestured to one of the unoccupied seats at his table. “I'm so glad you came."

  "With an invitation like yours, how could I resist?” she said with a slow, shy smile as she took the chair directly across from him. “I'm very excited about this consultation that requires us to meet."

  Ansley slowly lowered the paper cup in his hand and leaned across the table. His gaze holding hers, he asked, “Is that all you're excited about, Sophia?"

  Her eyes widened with surprise, then dropped away. “What else is there?"

  He took a sip from his coffee and considered the woman before him. The better part of eighteen months had been spent thinking about her. “I'll admit that I'm ... excited to meet you."

  "Oh.” Large espresso eyes stared at him in utter surprise before flickering away to glance out the window. “I've wanted to meet you too, for some time now."

  Already he had gained some ground. Good. “I'm glad to hear that."

  Something in his tone must have given away Ansley's satisfaction because she flicked another unsure glance at him, but this one was different. There was more than just shyness in her gaze. For a moment, she looked like a trapped animal. And Ansley got the feeling Sophia viewed him as her hunter. The look lasted less than a moment. Still, Ansley knew he made Sophia nervous. He needed to put her at ease.

  "Would you like to hear about the job?"

  For the first time that day Sophia's gaze lifted to his and held. “Yes."

  "A few months ago I found out that Jacob Bainsworth throws a biennial party at his Diamond Springs estate. It's a weekend-long event."

  Sophia sat back in her seat and stared at him in surprise. “And he's throwing it this year?"

  Ansley nodded his head in agreement and took a sip from his coffee. He lifted his head and looked into Sophia's bright eyes. “But it's by invite only."

  She licked her lips. He watched her tongue move across the full plane of her lower lip and felt the movement deep in his balls. He was definitely attracted to her unconventional beauty.

  Fortunately, Sophia was totally unaware of her effect on him.

  "And you somehow managed to get an invite?"

  He smiled at the disbelief and admiration he heard in her voice. “Yes."

  She stilled across from him. “Did you manage to get two invites?"

  "Yes, Sophia. I did. I want you to come with me."

  The air between them altered almost immediately. Before Sophia opened her mouth, Ansley knew she was going to deny him. “To a party?” she asked.

  Noting the fear in her gaze, he tried to downplay the celebratory element. “Think of it as an assignment. It is just part of the job. You've been to a number of parties that focused on art."

  "Yes, but this isn't one of those parties. I got the impression that this was a real party."

  "How is this any different? You're still going there for the art, Sophia,” he replied.

  She chewed her bottom lip, eating away the dark lipstick to reveal the flushed pink tone of her mouth. “I'm not really good around people."

  "I'll be there, Sophia."

  If anything, the darkness in her eyes deepened. She was nervous about being with him. It made sense. A genteel woman such as herself probably wasn't used to hard men like him. Ansley sighed. “Remember we're going there to find my client's missing piece. We're not going there to party."

  She gave him a lopsided grin. “Good, because I have to admit I'm not much of a partyer."

  He took a moment-dragging sip of his cool coffee. “And why not?"

  Her muscles went tight with tension. Too late, Ansley realized he had said the wrong thing, drawn her too far past her comfort zone.

  "I guess I don't have much practice with partying."

  The statement was spoken in a matter-of-fact manner, but there was nothing simple about what Sophia said. Ansley watched her wondering what kind of idiot males surrounded her.

  Sophia should have been used to the best kind of parties.

  At least, Ansley would have made sure she was used to such things if he could call Sophia his.

  "I promise this will be no different than any other job I've worked on. It's a simple matter of getting into Bainsworth's home so we can find the piece."

  "What happens after that?"

  He grinned. “Let me worry about that. This is my expertise, after all."

  The steady rhythm of fingers tapping the rosewood table danced through the air. Ansley glanced at Sophia's long, slim fingers moving upon the wood. Like the female they belonged to, her fingers had an elegancy that marked each digit. Perfect, right down to her fingertips. Ansley grimaced at the fanciful thought. He was not a romantic, but he was definitely romanticizing every thing Sophia did.

  It's the fantasy. For months now, he had dreamed of her. What he didn't know about her, his imagination fleshed out. In the end, he had created an image of a perfect woman. And he was affixing that view to Sophia.

  If he didn't curb his wayward thoughts, things were bound to end badly. “What are you thinking?” he drawled out, knowing that he needed to focus on the case. It was his first priority. Sophia could only, at most, be a pleasant afterthought.

  "Bainsworth is notoriously secretive."

  "Yes."

  "I'm assuming he'll have his famous security measures in place."
/>
  "Ah, you're wondering how we'll get past the identification phase, even with our invites."

  "Yes."

  "It's a costume party. And my friend made sure to get us the invites of a couple who resemble us."

  "Wow. That's impressive."

  "I try."

  "Getting that all together must have taken considerable time and effort."

  "Yes, and money."

  Her beautiful eyes tightened slightly as she peered at him in consternation. Fine tingles of anticipation danced upon his skin as he waited for Sophia to look her fill. After several moments, Sophia appeared to have consumed enough of him. “You're really going out of your way to find this piece."

  "Hmmm,” he murmured noncommittally. Sophia was incredibly perceptive. That characteristic was part of the reason why Ansley originally hired her. He hoped it didn't come back to bite him in the ass. It was one thing to have a perceptive consultant across the country; it was another to have a highly perceptive woman across the table from you.

  "You're a very dedicated man."

  "When there's something I want, I go after it."

  * * * *

  "When there's something I want, I go after it."

  A shudder of anticipation ran through Sophia's body as she thought of Ansley's words. At the time he made the statement, she took it at face value. Now, as she waited within the gallery, she couldn't help wondering if they had been a promise.

  She had to be crazy to be standing there, waiting for him to show his face. Because there was no way this night was going to end well. Sophia took a deep breath and attempted to hold off the heart attack she could feel coming on. She wasn't just nervous; she was utterly frightened.

  Sophia breathed deeply, trying to stave off her fight-or-flight instincts. Even though she had agreed to aid Ansley on this job, she felt cornered. And like any cornered being, her body was trying to decide if she should take off now, before things got too dangerous, or fight.

  Fight for what? she asked herself and took a sip of her chamomile tea. The drink was supposed to be calming her. If anything, the heat was making her more anxious, reminding her of the burn that coasted down her skin when she had first spotted Ansley.

  Danger. The word had exploded through her mind at the first sight of him.

  He was a man who exuded all the dark, tempting, and perilous things mothers everywhere warned their daughters about. With his sun-bronzed skin, sharp, green eyes, and overgrown, jet-black hair, Ansley looked like something straight out of her wet dreams.

  And then there was that body. Long limbed, with carefully cultivated muscles, Ansley had the kind of physique men everywhere spent hours trying to obtain. But there was something jaded about him that let Sophia know that he wasn't a gym junkie. He had not earned that body lifting weights.

  She bit her lip as she thought of the cynical element that hung to his every move. She knew from talking to him that he had seen most of the world, had seen things that she had only read about. It was what worried her. She was infatuated with a man who had seen both the best and worst the world had to offer.

  She could not imagine him wanting her.

  "It is just a job. Don't forget that,” she whispered to herself. Trembling fingers gripping her grande paper cup of tea, she took a soothing sip and closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down.

  When Sophia opened them, she found Ansley standing just outside her gallery. He had not been there a moment ago. At least she had not noticed him standing there before.

  She shivered in fear as she considered the thought that Ansley had been there the whole time watching her try to cultivate her strength.

  He probably thinks I'm pathetic, she thought with a sigh. Unable to evade the unavoidable, she strode over to him. With each step she took, Sophia's heart pounded harder. There was no denying the nervous energy that rocked her. By the time she reached Ansley, she feared a heart attack.

  She had to relax. If she didn't, she might have an actual fit. And there was no way she was going to let Ansley see her like that. Relax. He's just a man. Fantasy Man doesn't exist. Ansley is no different than any other man you've met.

  So why does he make me feel this way?

  She opened the door and stepped back. He walked out of the night and into her gallery to stand beside her.

  "I'm glad to see you're still willing to help me. I have to admit I was worried you might change your mind."

  Sophia breathed deeply, desperately trying to calm the raging emotions within that threatened to run out of control. Instead, she took in a lungful of him. Fantasy Man.

  The rich aroma of his masculine cologne, a mixture of sandalwood and clean air, and the male musk that clung to every inch of him filled her nostrils. It was calming, almost therapeutic. Sophia's heart rate changed. It was just as fast paced, but excitement charged it.

  "I said I would. To back out now would be unprofessional."

  "And you are most definitely a professional."

  Sophia glanced sharply at Ansley, expecting to see a smirk on his face. She was surprised to see he was stoic. She heard amusement in his tone, but it wasn't evident on his face. “Of course I'm a professional."

  Little by little, a grin spread across Ansley's face. It did incredible things to his face, making his features appear both softer and more dramatic. The overall effect made Ansley even more dangerous. Before the smile, he appeared to be the kind of man who could love you or kill you. At the moment, Ansley looked like someone who could love you to death.

  And what a way to go!

  "The friend who got us into the party..."

  Something was wrong. Sophia's fingers tightened around the supple straps of her leather bag in anxiety as she lifted her head. “Yes?” She heard unease in Ansley's voice. In all the time Sophia had known Ansley, he never seemed uncertain. Something was definitely wrong.

  "He mentioned that it's got a specific theme."

  Breathe deeply. Think clearly. “What kind of theme?"

  "Like most adult parties, the concept is a little more grown-up."

  "Meaning?"

  A dress bag appeared before her face. “This."

  She glanced at Ansley. His stoic expression did not bode well. Sophia got the distinct impression that he was expecting her to turn him down once she saw what was inside the garment bag. She took the article from him. Their fingers brushed as she accepted the dress. A quick, sharp flash of hunger shot through Sophia at the simple touch. She moved back quickly, evading his touch as well as his effect on her senses. “I'll be right back,” she murmured before turning and striding through the gallery to stop before her office door. She hadn't been thinking when she left earlier. She automatically locked the door behind her, forgetting that she would be coming back in mere minutes with Ansley at her side.

  Sophia hefted the bag over one arm and pulled her keys from her purse. After a few moments, she had the door unlocked. With uncoordinated movements, she tried to push the door backward without dislodging the garment bag.

  A long, sinewy arm moved above her head to grasp the heavy wood door and push it open.

  For a few seconds Sophia just stood there, staring into the dark abyss that was her office as the heat from Ansley's body bathed her back. Friction like nothing she'd ever experienced before blossomed within Sophia as she fought two dueling desires: the need to turn around and wrap herself in Ansley's arms, and the desire to stay where she stood forever.

  She ignored both and walked into the room. Her right arm lifted and her fingers sought out the switch to bathe the room in stark white light. Sophia glanced around the room, taking note of the eerie atmosphere. It was awkward being there with Ansley. “Well, this is my gallery,” she said as she gestured to the expansive area behind them. “Would you like a tour?"

  His gaze lowered to the garment bag over her arm. “Is it okay if I walk around on my own while you change?” He gave her a swift smile. “I promise not to break anything."

  Her eyes drifted to t
he costume before returning to Ansley. His eyes were bright with excitement. He was eager to get her into the article. Her tongue swept over her bottom lip. “Sure. Here, there, and there are the dials,” Sophia said as she indicated the lights around the wide-open gallery.

  "Thank you,” he replied with a smile. Realizing she no longer had a reason to stand in the doorway with him, Sophia nodded her head and walked into her office. She closed the door behind her and took a deep breath. Just being around Ansley put her on edge.

  Partially, because of who Ansley Westwick was: her part-time employer. The payments she received for her services helped to keep her financially stable and, therefore, were a benefit to her gallery.

  But it was the fact that Ansley was Fantasy Man that truly made her nervous. Every time she got near him, she feared she would make a fool out of herself and destroy whatever illusion he had of her. And those few moments when Sophia stopped thinking about that, she wondered when Ansley would tarnish the ideal she held in her mind of him.

  "So far so good,” she mumbled to herself as she lifted the garment bag and hung it on her coatrack. “Don't fuck it up,” she said as she pointed at the article to emphasize her central goal. Sophia immediately felt foolish.

  "I'm talking to myself ... and yelling at myself for doing it out loud,” she groaned before grasping the zipper and pulling it down. She pulled the black plastic apart to reveal the item beneath. For a moment, she couldn't figure out what the costume was supposed to be.

  She pulled out the pieces one by one. When they were all set out, she realized what the costume—or rather what she—was supposed to be. A smutty French maid. The difference in the coloring confused her for a moment, but there was no denying it.

  Even though the case was important and the costume was an important part of Ansley's plan, she was not putting the outfit on. She strode over to the door, opened it, and peeked her head out. “Mr. Westwick, about the costume,” she called softly.

  "Wow, that was quick. How does it look?” He appeared at the end of the hall to her office. The soft lighting from the gallery outlined his large figure beautifully, and for one moment, she was struck by the power of the image. She wondered if the vision was her imagination or just artful lighting. If it was the latter, she was going to have to ask him how he did that. A number of her pieces could use that kind of staging.