Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

" I should never have agreed to this," Ariel muttered at her reflection, wishing she could wield a mascara wand with the same expertise as a paint brush.

She'd never gone in for makeup. She much preferred painting canvases than painting her face. Then again, tonight called for a confidence mask, and if the barest foundation, sheer blue eye-shadow, a quick lashing of mascara, and pale pink lip gloss would help quell the butterflies dancing a tango in her belly, she'd use it.

Seeing Cooper at Sofia's charity event was one thing but agreeing to accompany him? Madness.

Right on cue, a knock at the front door had her casting one last regretful glance at her reflection in the mirror before she picked up her embroidered silver evening purse and flicked off the lights.

Though how hard could tonight be? She'd wait around for the portrait unveiling, make polite small talk with a bunch of rich phoneys, then bolt back here in a taxi, leaving Cooper with his cronies.

Easy.

However, the moment she opened the door and saw Cooper wearing a designer tux and a sexy smile, she knew nothing about this evening would be easy. The way her pulse accelerated and her heart flip-flopped, nothing could be further from the truth.

"You look beautiful."

His soft, almost reverent voice strummed her skin like a gentle caress and she shivered with delight that she could evoke a reaction like that from a guy like him as he stepped into the doorway, blocking out the sounds of busy Brunswick Street, and took hold of her hand.

"It's vintage," she said, a totally inane remark as she stood frozen, her hand captured in his, enjoying the physical contact way too much.

"It suits you."

The admiration in his appreciative gaze made her hold onto his hand too long and she sighed in relief when he released it. Short-lived, because once his hand was free, he skimmed his palm over the sheer chiffon of her dress cascading in handkerchief layers from her waist to the floor.

"You look like a beautiful waterfall. Fresh, vibrant, invigorating."

"And you need to move into the twenty-first century," she said, disarmed by his charm. "With lines like that, I'm not surprised you spend all your time with your head buried behind a computer."

She didn't mean to sound so cutting but she didn't handle compliments well. Especially compliments from a guy standing way too close and smelling like a dream.

To her surprise, he chuckled rather than rebuke her. "You're not going to spoil tonight with that smart mouth of yours. Insult me all you like but I'm not biting."

More's the pity.

He smirked as if reading her mind and she propelled him out the door, anything to put some much needed distance between them. Even seated in his car would be better than having him invade her personal space. Not that she minded exactly, but if they didn't get a move on, she'd be tempted to rush back into the gallery, slip into shorts and a poncho, and have a TV dinner while watching her favourite DIY house renovation show.

Boring but safe. The complete antithesis of allowing Cooper to drape her hand in the crook of his elbow and lead her to his low-slung sports car parked around the corner.

Exciting and dangerous. Yeah, that was Cooper through and through and for a girl who liked being dull and safe she was enticed at the prospect of living a little for once.

"Flash car," she said, sliding into the plush, leather interior as he held the passenger door open for her.

"It was a gift."

She looked at him in surprise, his abrupt tone implying he didn't like it. Or maybe didn't like the person who had given it to him?

As he slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and pulled away from the curb, she couldn't resist probing further. "Let me guess. Daddy bought it for you as a bonus last year?"

"Close," he said, his voice tight, his hands clenched on the steering wheel.

She could've left it there but she didn't. After being ignored for the first eight years of her life as she flitted from orphanage to foster home and back again, living with Barb had opened a whole new world to her. Barb had encouraged her natural curiosity, had answered her endless questions with the patience of a saint.

Ariel loved mystery novels for that very reason, always wanting questions answered, the unsolvable unravelled, and right now, she had a doozy of a puzzle laid out before her and there was no way she could back down.

"Pretty generous gift. You two must be close to whoever gave it to you."

"We were."

Cooper's use of past tense could only mean two things; they'd fallen out or worse, the other person was dead. Maybe she should quell her curiosity and keep her mouth shut.

"My father gave me the car. We don't get along these days," Cooper said, his icy tone sending chills down her spine.

"I'm sorry."

Her apology extended beyond her probing. How could she contemplate for one second that she could make tonight work? Even when she was trying to fit in, she made a mess of things. Rather than keeping the conversation light, she'd pushed for answers, nosing around where she didn't belong.

"So am I." Cooper didn't say anymore and this time, she didn't push, clamping her glossed lips tightly shut and staring out the window at the glittering lights of Melbourne as they wound their way to Toorak, one of the city's richest suburbs.

However, after five minutes passed and the uncomfortable silence yawned between them, she said, "Do you have any music?"

"Sure." He touched a fancy keypad that looked like it could launch the space shuttle until muted jazz filled the car. "How's that?"

"Not bad," she said, hoping for something more upbeat. Anything to lighten the mood.

"What sort of music do you like?"

"Latin American. Flamenco. Anything with a bit of oomph."

The exact opposite of his boring choice, but she wisely kept that to herself.

However, he zoned in on her thoughts with unerring accuracy once again. "You think I'm some kind of business-oriented bore, don't you?"

Got it in one, Coop.

However, in the interests of making the rest of the drive and the hour or so of torture she had ahead of her at the party bearable, she chose her words carefully. "We're different, that's all."

"Like opposites attracting?"

"Who said anything about attraction?"

She kept her tone deliberately light, knowing she'd successfully stepped through one verbal minefield only to plough straight into another. A more dangerous minefield this time, one with the potential to detonate and leave her heart in tiny, shattered fragments if she acknowledged her growing attraction for this guy.

"Come on, tell me the truth. I've seen how you look at me when you're painting."

"What a load of—"

His laughter drowned out the rest of her response and she reluctantly joined in, recognising she'd been duped and how he'd effectively lightened the mood.

"Okay, now that I can add enormous ego to the list of your faults, you better quit while you're behind."

He chuckled. "So you're fixated on my behind too, huh?"

Shooting him a glare that could melt wax, the scorching glance he fired right back surprised her. Thankfully, they were stopped at traffic lights, otherwise the heat they created with that one locked stare could've made him ram a light pole.

With a superior smile, she said, "The way I observed your body was purely professional. Anything else you imagine you saw is pure speculation on your part. Incorrect speculation I might add."

He laughed and refocussed on the road as the lights changed to green, his deep, rich laughter rolling over her like low-lying clouds on a sultry summer's day. "Come on, Ariel, admit it. You want my body."

"I want your head on a platter, preferably with an apple stuffed in that big mouth of yours."

To her annoyance, heat crawled under her skin, setting her nerve endings alight with longing.

He was right, damn him.

She did want his body.

Looking-but-not-touching had driven her slowly but surely mad over the last two weeks. The more time they spent together, the more quips they traded, the more they laughed, she knew it wasn't just his magnificent body she wanted.

His mind attracted her too.

The same mind that is busily hatching plots to snatch the gallery and your life away from you.

How gullible could she be?

"On that note, we're here," he said, pulling into a long, tree-lined driveway boasting enough expensive vehicles to keep car thieves rolling in wealth until the next century.

Men in prim, black uniforms rushed about like hyperactive penguins, opening car doors, taking keys, and keeping the long line of vehicles moving at a steady pace past the imposing double doors at the front of the house, thrown open to let light from a crystal chandelier spill onto the marble tiled entry porch.

Ariel unconsciously reached for a curl to twist around her finger, forgetting she'd piled most of them on top of her head in a poor imitation of a posh up-do.

This place made her feel gauche.

From the ostentatious cream-rendered, double storey house that sprawled across the large block, the flood-lit tennis court she glimpsed behind the house to the right, and the hand- trimmed topiary trees that looked like a real, live zoo leading up to the entrance, every self-preserving instinct told Ariel to make a run for it.

People who lived in places like this, who drove cars like the ones lining the drive, who attended parties like this, meant one thing to her.

Trouble.

She'd battled the prejudices of rich people her entire life and despite how far she'd come, she hated the feelings evoked as they looked down their aristocratic noses at the scruffy, weird artist like she hadn't risen out of the gutter far enough.

She didn't think she had a hang-up about her past but whenever she got within two feet of a patronising snob, all her old insecurities rushed back and left her feeling inadequate.

"What's wrong?" Cooper had put the car into Park mode and turned to face her, a frown lining his forehead.

"This isn't my scene."

Her hand fluttered to her face, searching for that elusive curl to twirl in comfort and coming up empty again.

Great, the one time that lousy curl behaved itself and actually stayed tucked up and off her face she had the urge to rip it down and twist it around and around her finger.

"Consider it part of your job," he said, his voice soft and soothing. "This is networking at its best, where you get to scope out potential customers, feed them what they want to hear, and promote your business. And if all else fails, fall back on the old standard."

"What's that?"

"Picture the lot of them naked."

She managed a tight smile, grateful for his presence and the support he offered. It would've been much harder to attend this soiree alone, yet with Cooper, one of their own, she could blend into the background without too much difficulty.

"Anyone ever tell you you've got a fixation for the naked human form?"

"That's you, sweetheart, not me." He reached out and squeezed her hand, a brief, impersonal touch but supportive nonetheless, and she could've kissed him for it.

Though she wouldn't go there…not if she knew what was good for her.

"Ready to go in?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," she muttered, tugging on her tight bodice and patting the top of her head tentatively to see if her thick, unmanageable mop was still in place.

"Remember, think naked," he said, giving her a heart-stopping grin before releasing her hand and stepping out of the car.

"It's show-time," she murmured, feeling more like a supporting actress than the star attraction and hoping she wouldn't fluff her lines.

Ironically, the hoity-toity crowd wasn't the only thing that had her stomach roiling with nerves. The thought she might make a fool of herself with Cooper, whose opinion she'd come to care way too much about, made her feel sick.

Absurd, to care so much about his opinion of her, and the sooner tonight was over, he delivered his pitch, and he exited her life, the better off she'd be.

Then why the scary, empty feeling at the thought?