“I like Rafael’s work. I haven’t seen yours.” He actually had and knew it was good. The pictures they’d gone over after the shoot were impressive. He knew the “Bodies in Motion” issue wasn’t just about gratuitous naked athletes, but she’d done a great job of capturing his athleticism as he’d run, jumped and dunked the basketball in the studio. She was talented, but he liked teasing her.
“You’re an art critic now?” She brushed her long, blue-tipped bangs out of her eyes and met his gaze through thick lashes. The silver bangles on her slim wrist slid down her arm almost to her elbow.
He pursed his lips and nodded to try to look serious. “Oh yes. I’m very selective. My opinion is highly sought after by those in the know.”
Full lips twitched and her eyes brightened with laughter. “Hmm. I’ll have to keep that in mind. I can’t have you criticizing my photos of you.”
“Yours will be judged extra hard.”
He placed his hand near her lower back but didn’t touch and nodded his head in the direction of the bar on the left side of Rafael’s spacious living room. There wasn’t a bartender and Rafael’s guests could mix their own drinks. Jasmine let him lead the way. He was pretty sure let was the right word. He doubted she would ever let anyone direct her if she didn’t want them to.
“And why will mine be judged harder than the others?”
“Because they’re pictures of me,” he said. “I never like my pictures.”
She laughed as if that were ludicrous and he grinned, drawn in by the music of her voice. It was true, though. He didn’t like pictures of himself. He knew women found him attractive, but he wasn’t classically handsome. He’d filled in his tall lanky frame with muscles and covered his upper body in art, but that didn’t make up for his prominent brow and not-perfectly symmetrical features. He hadn’t been popular with the ladies until he’d excelled at basketball and ultimately gone professional.
“What I saw though my camera says you have nothing to be ashamed of.” She reached for the bottle of red wine and poured herself a drink.
“Oh, so you did like what you saw?”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, the hint of a smile on her lips. “That’s just my professional opinion, you understand. Purely an academic observation.”
His answering chuckle eased him deeper into her spell. She was cool. Funny and lively in a way that immediately made him want to relax and get to know her better. “Okay, academic.” He took her free hand in his, pretended he didn’t feel the spark that came from her skin against his and turned her hand over. “Then why can I still see my number on your wrist?”
She sucked in a breath as if the spark had hit her, too, but shrugged easily. “I have no idea. You must have used some super permanent ink when you wrote it down.”
He’d used a regular pen. She hadn’t washed it away. Which meant she’d at least considered calling him. Which meant he had a chance. “You know, I think I did.” He rubbed his thumb over the soft skin where his number still resided.
Her body shivered and her eyes darkened. With hunger? Awareness? Maybe desire? He wasn’t sure which but hoped for all three. She slipped her arm back. “I’ll scrub it off later.”
“After you write my number down so you can call me.” He eased closer.
She smelled delicious. Sweet and decadent like fruit and chocolate. Was that perfume or just her? One way to find out was to hold her naked. Learn all her curves and cravings. Follow the trail across her neck and breasts to discover each and every hidden secret she had.
His heart beat an intoxicating rhythm in his chest. The anticipation coursing through him slowly rose as if he were about to go on an expedition, and Jasmine was the ultimate experience.
“Who says I’m going to call you?” There was no heat in her voice, just a trace of flirtation.
Kevin’s grin widened. Oh hell yes. He definitely had a shot. “Who says you aren’t?”
She sipped her wine, licking her lips after pulling the glass away, and hit him with a look that was both flirty and don’t-get-ahead-of-yourself. She was interested but maybe still weighing her options. Cool, he didn’t have a problem with a woman who took her time to make a decision. If she had standards he needed to meet, then he would do whatever he needed in order to meet them.
Rafael clapped and got everyone’s attention before Jasmine could reply. Reluctantly, Kevin gave him his attention, too.
“Okay, folks, you know what time it is?” Rafael asked.
A collective, half-hearted groan combined with muffled laughter in the room. Kevin looked at Jasmine, who rolled her eyes and chuckled. She said at the same time as him and everyone else in the room: “Game time.”
Rafael loved playing games when he got people together. “You got that right,” he said cheerfully. “We’ll start with Cards Against Humanity.”
Jasmine raised her wineglass in a salute. “I love that game.”
Kevin tapped his chest. “Me, too.”
“We’re such horrible people.” She bit her lower lip and they both laughed.
Damn, he really liked her. The game’s tagline did say it was the card game for terrible people. Mostly because some of the questions and answers in the cards were so outrageous he wouldn’t dare play it around his mother or grandmother.
They joined the rest of Rafael’s guests who agreed to play. Jasmine had a sense of humor that matched his own.
After the card game, Rafael decided they’d all play Two Truths and a Lie. Each person told three stories and the rest of the room had to guess which story was the lie. Learning that Jasmine had skinny-dipped in her gym back in high school only added to the wild mystery of her.
After the games concluded, the crowd was even more relaxed and talkative. He and Jasmine stuck together as they mingled with Rafael’s mixture of artistic friends. They eventually broke away into their own conversations about art, music and movies before ending up in a corner on the balcony.
“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen The Princess Bride,” Jasmine said, shaking her head as if he were an enigma.
“Why would I ever see that movie?” he asked, unable to control his humor at her audacity.
“Because it’s a freaking classic, that’s why.” She slapped his chest. The low light of the balcony played on the muscles in her arms as she moved. He had discovered a tattoo. A small heart on the front of her shoulder that occasionally peaked out from the strap of her tank top in her enthusiasm.
He slid closer to her and ran his hand over the smooth stone of the balcony railing until his fingertips brushed hers. “The Blues Brothers is a classic. A princess movie is not.”
“You’re such a guy,” she said with mock disgust. She brushed her bangs away. “You could learn a lot about romance by watching a princess movie.” She took a sip from a bottle of water. His gaze dropped to her neck. So sleek and sexy. Even her
