“I know you are, but that won’t make me stop worrying about you, Gillian. Let’s leave it at that.” His voice was thick, tight, and he didn’t mean to come off like he was upset. He wasn’t angry with her, but he was upset with himself and the things inside of him, the feelings and emotions he’d never really be able to express.

  So instead you’ll stalk her, and watch her because that’s the only way you can truly make sure she’s okay.

  “I promise to be careful, and I’ll text you when I get home.”

  He just nodded, because he knew what he had to do, and that wasn’t waiting at home for her text. Yeah, he was so far over the fucking edge for her that he’d never see solid ground again.

  ****

  She’d been having this weird feeling all day, that feeling like someone was being watched, and that someone was her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and no matter how much she glanced around, trying to see if maybe someone in the gallery was looking at her, she came up with nothing.

  No, not nothing.

  Just then, her focus landed on a man in the back, his hat pulled down low, his blond hair poking out from all sides. He wore a long duster jacket, jeans, and a pair of dark boots that looked like they’d seen better days. He watched her, and when he saw she was looking at him as well, he lifted up his wine glass in a salute. She smiled, but the tingling on her nape intensified.

  “That’s Gerald Poolish.”

  She glanced to her side at one of the wait staff. “The artist?”

  The waitress nodded. “I heard this was one of the shows he came out for.” The waitress left, and although the artist was no longer looking at her, Gillian still felt that tingling on the back of her neck. Gerald Poolish was known for being reclusive, reserved, and rarely even showing up to his own art shows. To see him here was a bit of a shock, and she was a little awestruck. Gillian loved art, always had, but she couldn’t paint a straight line if her life depended on it. Instead, she’d decided to be a part of the art world, even if she wasn’t an artist.

  This showing was small, intimate, unlike the one she was taking David to. So maybe that’s why Gerald was here? As much as she would have loved to go talk to him, to see how he was, how he acted, and get a feel for the man behind the paintings, she was reserved herself in these situations.

  Instead of potentially making an ass out of herself in front of a brilliant artist, she turned and walked the room, seeing if anyone needed help on painting explanations, and just trying to keep herself busy. But the whole while she felt that tightening of her skin, felt like someone had their fingers on her, making her very aware that she wasn’t alone. It was a strange feeling, one she got on occasion, but never this strongly.

  Maybe she was losing her mind?

  “You have a magnetism that is like a Callahan painting.”

  The voice behind her startled her for how close it was to her, and Gillian turned, feeling her heart in her throat. There, standing far too close for comfort given the fact she didn’t know him, was Gerald Poolish.

  “Excuse me?” was the first thing that came out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

  “I was just complimenting you on the fact you’re a very gorgeous woman,” he said and held his hand out. “Gerald Poolish.”

  She took his hand and nodded. “I know who you are.”

  He smiled, and it was nice, genuine. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. He also had a generous amount of paint stains on his jacket, even some staining his fingers.

  “I hope you’ve heard all good things.” He grinned.

  She hadn’t really heard good or bad, just that he was reserved. Apparently not right now as he was the one striking up the conversation.

  “I couldn’t help but notice you through the crowd. You were enthralled with the Yenna Black.” They both turned and looked at the painting in question. It was a large canvas painted black, with swatches of oranges, yellows, and blues covering it, the design random, abstract.

  “Yes, it’s very beautiful, eye-catching.”

  He nodded. “I want this for my home.” He turned and looked at her then. “It’ll remind me of the beautiful woman I saw at the show who has good taste in art.”

  Gillian felt her cheeks heat.

  “I’ve embarrassed you,” Gerald said and chuckled. “Not my intent, but I’m pleased to have gotten a reaction out of you.”

  “I…” What was she supposed to say? She was pleased to meet this artist, but the vibes he gave off told her he was flirting, that he was interested, whereas she wasn’t in that way. The back of her neck tingled especially hard right then, and she lifted her hand to rub it. Looking out toward the front windows, she couldn’t see anything because of the lighting inside. But whatever was out there had her entire body taking notice, it seemed.

  A waiter walked by, and Gerald grabbed two champagne flutes off the tray. He handed one to Gillian, and she took it, smiling.

  “Thank you.” She turned back to the painting, sipping on her champagne, and feeling Gerald’s stare on her.

  “To be honest I noticed you as soon as I came in.”

  Although she had been interested in meeting Gerald Poolish, this was getting a little weird for her. She choked on her champagne for a second, and turned with wide eyes to look at him. “You did?” she asked, her voice high-pitched.

  “Of course.” He smiled again and reached out to touch her shoulder. She glanced down at where his hand was, not impressed. “I see a beautiful woman surrounded by beautiful paintings, what’s not to notice?”

  Okay, Gillian was going to have to figure out how to gently and professionally steer this encounter in the other direction, because the way it was going was not what she wanted.

  Chapter Four

  The steering wheel creaked under David’s hold, and he felt his entire body tighten. He was getting pissed, and all because of the interest shown in Gillian by some scuzzy looking motherfucker. The asshole had his hand on her shoulder, and it took everything in him not to go there and rip the asshole’s fucking limb off, push the guy away, and beat the shit out of him.

  He never said he was sane when it came to Gillian.

  But Gillian took a step back, which had the fucker’s hand dropping away from her.

  Good girl, baby.

  “She’s not yours, you fucker,” he said, staring at the guy, and even from the distance David could see how he wanted Gillian. “Hell no.” But David stayed in the car, saw how Gillian was keeping a good distance from the asshole and he was pleased with that.

  He’d been sitting here for the last hour and a half, just watching her mingle, wanting to be beside her, to have his hands around her, letting everyone know she was his. If that ever happened he didn’t know. There wasn’t much that unnerved or scared David, but the thought of not having Gillian in his life, whether that be she was taken from him or she broke off their friendship, was at the top of his list of things that would really fuck him up.

  ****

  Gillian said goodnight to the last guest, locked up, and sighed. The show had been a success, with all of the paintings being sold. She’d agreed to make sure everyone was out and everything logged out before she left, and although it wouldn’t take that long, she was regretting making the commitment as her feet screamed at her for being a bitch and wearing these heels.

  “Get it done and get the hell home.” That mantra played through her head as she wrapped everything up, logged out the sold paintings, and finally left the gallery. With her back to the parking lot, she locked the door, juggling her purse and keys in one hand, and a stack of paperwork and invoices in the other. She didn’t hear anything, but she certainly felt that “someone is watching me” vibe. Turning around and holding the keys in between her fingers, so she could use them as a weapon if need be, she was greeted with nothing, absolutely nothing. A parking lot light flickered in the distance, the yellow glow fading, wearing out.

  You’re freaking yourself out because it’s dark and creepy as hell out here.

  She kept the keys in her hand, her fingers hurting as they dug into the metal. Quickly making her way toward the parking lot, she scanned her surroundings, always hating having to work late because this part of town wasn’t the best, and it creeped her the hell out.

  Once in her car she started the engine, but before she could pull out the flash of headlights in front of her momentarily blinded her. The car came closer at a snail’s pace until it was right beside her, the driver’s side right beside hers. Gillian’s heart pounded hard, and she’d locked the doors upon entering the car, but she was still freaked out. That was, until she saw it was Gerald Poolish in the driver’s seat.

  Gerald was wealthy, she knew that, but the car he drove had to be several years old, not a luxury brand, and he dressed as if he was sleeping on someone’s couch and didn’t give a shit if he ever changed his clothes. She hated to use the stereotype of what everyone thought an artist looked like, but Gerald did fit it to a T on a lot of points.

  He rolled down his window, and she did the same, although she just wanted to get home.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hi.” Where the hell had he been camped out? I thought he left half an hour before we closed?

  “You headed home?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’m beat.” Her feet decided to throb, as if reminding her that a soak in a hot bath had been the plan.

  “So, getting a drink with me isn’t something you’d be up for?” He looked so hopeful, but the fact he had either stayed out here the whole time, or had left and come back just to ask her out, didn’t sit well with her.

  “Um.” She didn’t know how to say this without sounded rude, but she wasn’t about to lead him on, not even if he was Gerald Poolish. “I’d love to, but I really am tired, and have so much paperwork to finish before tomorrow.”

  He didn’t speak for several moments, and it got a bit awkward. “Okay, well, it was great to finally meet an extraordinary artist like yourself. I should be going, though.” She smiled, not wanting to offend him.

  “Come on, one drink?” He was persistent, but in a friendly way, she supposed.

  She tightened her hands on the steering wheel. “I really should be going. Maybe another time though?” The silence stretched again.

  “I don’t usually have to beg a woman to have a drink with me.” He started chuckling, and although he sounded light, joking even, she knew he was tense. He reached in the glove box, grabbed something, and faced her again. “Maybe next time,” was all he said as he handed her a small card.

  She took it, saw it was his business card, and although she should have declined even that, because taking it might seem like she was interested, she smiled and placed it in the cup holder beside her. Gerald gave her a once over before finally rolling his window up.

  She let out a sigh, watched his taillights fade in the distance, and finally headed home. Once she reached her place, she cut the engine and sat there a second. To say she felt weird about the whole Gerald situation was an understatement, but she pushed it all away, blaming it on the fact she hadn’t had a meaningful relationship in a long time because she had such strong feelings for David. Maybe her love for David blinded her to what she could have with someone else? Maybe she should just say forget how she felt about David, try to bury those feelings, and move on? It wasn’t like she’d never been with a man, but she was older now, knew what she wanted in her life. It just seemed unappealing to date anyone when she was in love with another man.

  She got out of the car and headed inside, not liking that her thoughts were in such turmoil. Tossing her bag on the table and sitting on her couch, she leaned all the way back and just tried to relax.

  “Maybe I should have had a drink with Gerald? What would it have hurt?” she asked herself as she stared at the wall.

  Or maybe I should tell David how I feel?

  She pushed that thought away as soon as it came to mind. No, she could never tell David she was in love with him. Not only would it probably ruin their friendship, even if it didn’t, that confession would sure as hell make things awkward and different between them.

  But maybe he feels the same for me?

  Again, she pushed that thought out of her head. He’d never shown her any interest, and because of their past, what he’d been to her, maybe that’s all he saw her as—like a stepdaughter. That had disgust filling her. She sure as hell hoped he didn’t see her like that. Theirs had always been a friendly relationship, not one of authority or parental guidance. That’s how she liked it, how she’d wanted it.

  Maybe if she brought up seeing a man it might give her some kind of clue if David had feelings for her? Thinking that he might made her feel like a fool, but she had to do something. Jumping into the dating field without at least seeing if David might want something with her was not an option. And if he showed no reaction, well, then she’d at least know he felt nothing. Coming out and asking him of he cared for her in more than one way wasn’t something she was comfortable doing.

  But it scared the hell out of her to even think about speaking to David about this. His friendship, his presence in her life, was more important to her than anything else she’d ever experienced. It wasn’t just because of the issue with Brian, or how they knew each other. David had always been there for her, and she knew he always would be, even if she did reveal how she felt. But telling him that she was in love with him could definitely make things awkward.

  No. That was something she didn’t want to risk, didn’t even want to think about.

  Chapter Five

  David made no apologies for what he was doing right now … following the fucker that had been hitting on Gillian at the art show, and then again being a prick and waiting until she got off work. David had been waiting the whole time in the parking lot across the street, and although what he did might not be something a normal and sane person would do, well, he didn’t give a fuck. The difference between him and some other asshole was that David was sincerely looking out for Gillian, had only her best interest at heart, and was in love with her. The prick that obviously wanted a piece didn’t know her from Adam, and he wasn’t about to let a repeat happen like it did all those years ago.

  So, he’d followed the little prick after he’d left the parking lot of the gallery. Honestly, David didn’t give a shit if the bastard caught him. In fact, he hoped there was a confrontation. It would give him a chance to let out this aggression. But no matter how obsessed David was with Gillian, no matter how in love with her he was, he wasn’t going to beat some fucker’s ass just for hitting on her. Touching her, forcing her—those were different stories, ones that had bodily harm in them.

  He followed the guy out of town and into the city, and he was slightly surprised at the apartment building the guy either lived in, or was visiting. Given the vehicle he drove and how he’d been dressed, he hadn’t assumed he’d be anywhere near a place like this. But David watched as he entered in a code on the keypad, watched the gate for the underground garage lift to allow him entrance, and David felt his beast lessen slightly at the fact the guy was calling it a night.

  Maybe he should go check on Gillian? Just then, as if thinking about her caused her to call, his cell vibrated.

  “You’re okay?” he asked, still staring at the garage and watching the gate close back in place.

  She started chuckling, and he felt himself relax at the sound. “I’m fine. You worry too much.”

  It’s never too much when it concerns you.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to come over for some coffee.”

  Everything in him hardened at the thought of seeing her. She aroused him just by being in his presence, but when she was at home relaxing, he fucking got harder because of it. Even now he could imagine her in a pair of loose lounge pants, and her shirt hanging from her, but showing him that she was all woman. Her hair would be messy, and she’d have it in a haphazard ponytail. God, he fucking loved everything about her.

  “It’s late, though.” He wanted to tell her he’d be over there, but he also wanted to show her respect.

  “It’s not even eleven,” she said, her voice soft, so very feminine. “I’d like to have some company. Tonight was brutal, in a sense.”

  He knew the gallery shows she did were hard on her, and he wanted to be there for her, no matter, what. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” David had to get out of the city first, maybe even go home and clean up.

  “I’ll see you then.”

  They disconnected, and he took a second to stare at the apartment building. The jealousy and anger he felt were like a living entity in him. David was a sane man, for the most part, and when it didn’t concern Gillian, but there were things, people and actions that just sent him over the edge.

  After a few minutes he pulled away from the apartment and headed to Gillian’s house. He parked the vehicle at the corner of the driveway, climbed out, and before he could knock on the front door she had it open. He had to steel himself at the image of her; hair tousled, oversized shirt hanging off of one of her shoulders, and cotton shorts that were barely visible under the hem of the shirt.

  Holy mother of God.

  He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, not gawking, because he wasn’t a sick bastard.

  “Come on in,” she said in a soft voice. She had her reading glasses on, the black frames oversized, making her face seem even smaller. She was fucking gorgeous when she wasn’t done up, and although she didn’t primp herself like a lot of women, when she was in this element, her natural beauty could have brought him to his knees.

  David passed her, the scent of strawberries coming from her and making him use all his strength not to get hard right then and there.

  He moved past her, his body tense with the strength it took to keep himself under lock.

  “You want some coffee?” she asked, and he nodded without turning around. What he needed was something a hell of a lot stronger.