I shrugged. Seemed like a reasonable trade-off to me.
I slipped into the gallery, took off my shoes so as to walk more softly, and made my way to the end of the hall and the large door that led to yet another corridor. This one ran parallel to the main gallery and housed the staff offices, studio space for Cole and the featured artists, restrooms, and supply closets.
The door was cracked open slightly, and since that was practically an invitation, I didn’t even hesitate. I was almost to Cole’s office when the door opened and Michelle slipped out.
I flattened myself against the wall, certain that the red dress was shining like a beacon and she would see me. But she walked in the opposite direction, continuing down the corridor until she reached the end and the door that led into the small front office that served as Liz’s primary domain.
The moment she disappeared through the door, I sagged with relief. Then immediately jumped when the sharp explosion of shattering glass echoed through the area, followed by Cole’s deep, angry, and tightly controlled voice. “Goddammit, Conrad. Do you have any idea how easy—how goddamn fucking easy—it would be for me to kill you right now? What a goddamn pleasure it would be to snap your neck and put you out of my misery? Do you? Do you?”
I couldn’t hear Conrad’s reply, but I had the feeling it involved whimpering.
“If I ever hear that you’ve come sniffing around my people again, I swear to god I will rip your heart out. Now get the fuck out of here before I lose my goddamn temper.”
Conrad must have taken Cole at his word, because he stumbled out of the door, as white as a sheet and moving so fast he jiggled. He turned toward me, then jumped even more when he saw me standing there.
He said, “Oh!” then jogged past me toward the door. I sagged back against the wall, relieved. And determined to follow Conrad out as soon as my heart rate slowed a tiny bit.
Determined or not, tonight no longer seemed like the best night for a seduction.
I drew in a breath, pushed away from the wall, and started to walk quietly toward the exit.
I’d gone only two steps when I froze, suddenly certain that Cole was behind me. I’d heard nothing. Seen nothing. But the air around me seemed to crackle, as if the remnants of Cole’s anger were making him hum like a live wire.
“I’m sorry,” I said, as I began to turn around. “I didn’t mean to—”
But the words died on my lips. He was right there, his huge frame filling the hallway, his muscles tight, his expression ferocious.
His hands were clenched in fists by his sides. I could see the effort that was required to hold himself together, and I knew that all it would take was one wrong word to completely rip him apart.
I spoke anyway.
Maybe I was trying to soothe. Maybe I wanted the explosion.
All I knew was that I wanted to hear his name on my lips and see that fierce intensity in his eyes directed at me.
I was playing with fire, and so help me, I didn’t care.
“Cole,” I said, then stopped when my voice seemed to set him in motion. His long strides brought him right in front of me. Instinctively, I took a single step back, then felt his hand close around my upper arm.
I felt the brush of his breath against my face as he issued one single command. “No.”
Heat seemed to radiate through me, spreading out from that spot where his hand remained pressed to my bare skin. I could practically smell his anger—that violent, wild fury. He was heated and unpredictable and if I had any instinct for self-preservation, I knew that I should be terrified.
I wasn’t.
Instead, my whole body tingled in reaction to the undiluted sensuality of this man, and I wanted to close my eyes and soak it in. I wanted to feel it hotter, wilder.
I wanted everything he had to give—and it pissed me off that he wasn’t giving it.
Deliberately, I turned to look at my arm. At that singular spot where he was touching me. Then I tilted my head back so that I was looking straight into his eyes once again.
“Yes,” I said, and despite the deep, fathomless brown, I could see the way his pupils dilated in response to my words.
I held my breath, wanting the touch that I was certain would come, then almost screamed in frustration when he released me.
“Go back to the party, Kat,” he said, then turned away from me and very deliberately walked back to his office.
What the fuck?
“Goddamn you, Cole August,” I shouted, ignoring the irony that it was me—not him—who’d actually popped. I hurried after him, then reached out and grabbed a handful of his T-shirt just as he reached his doorway. “Do you think I’m scared of you? Of this? I’m not.”
“You should be.” His voice was as low and as ominous as his expression.
He was on edge. I knew it. I could see it. And I really didn’t care. I was on edge, too. For that matter, I’d jumped headlong into the chasm, and now I was tumbling through space.
I didn’t know where I would land. All I knew was that I wanted Cole to be the one to catch me.
“Maybe I should,” I admitted. “But I really don’t give a damn.” And then, before I could talk myself out of it, I used my grip on his T-shirt as leverage, drew myself up on my tiptoes, and closed my mouth over his.
The kiss was like falling through hell to land in heaven. His mouth was hard at first, unyielding. Then his fingers twined in my hair and his other hand cupped the small of my back, pressing me forward until I was right against him.
I felt his erection like hard steel trapped inside his jeans, the swell of it pressing provocatively against my abdomen.