Beneath his hand the silky fabric of her gown shifted with each step she took, the movement barely detectable but enough to set up a hum of electricity tingling across his palm. It would be no hardship to ease the sensation by stroking his hand across the gentle curve of her hip, but he knew he wouldn’t give in to the elemental urge. Not this time.
At his car he swung open the passenger door and waited as she settled into the leather seat and scooped the skirt of her dress inside so it was clear of the doorframe.
Her slender feet were wrapped in a web of delicate bronze leather straps, her toenails painted vermilion. The tingle of electricity that had started on his hand gathered momentum and sent a jolt of something stronger straight to his groin. Man, she had sexy feet. He’d never thought of himself as a foot kind of guy, but when it came to the parade of footwear Callie wore he’d been easily swung over.
“Nice shoes,” he commented after he’d shut her door and settled into the driver’s seat beside her.
“Thank you.” A wry smile played around her glossy lips, lips he imagined would feel as soft and tender as they looked. “Shoes are a bit of a weakness of mine,” she admitted.
“I noticed,” Josh laughed, determined to put her at ease tonight.
“Ah, well, I suppose we all have our vices. What’s yours?”
Her question hung in the air between them. What would she do, he wondered, if he admitted his? Instead, he replied smoothly, “I have no vices.”
Her snort of disbelief was barely audible.
“What?” he asked. “You think I do?”
“I don’t know you well enough to comment.”
“But you’ve heard rumours,” he pressed.
“Some, however I’m not in the habit of forming opinions based on rumour.”
“An admirable quality,” Josh conceded.
“One of my many,” she replied in that tone she’d used at the front door.
He put that thought away to examine later. Callie Lee was proving to have intriguingly hidden depths he hadn’t anticipated. Much as he hadn’t anticipated the alluring draw of her sensuality. The fact that she was oblivious to it made her even more tempting, and she was a temptation he would succumb to—all in good time.
Callie watched as people swirled about the gallery. Most were more interested in being noticed among the Who’s Who of Auckland’s glitterati than in the quality of the art on display. She’d done the rounds as Josh’s assistant, ensuring that the right sponsors rubbed shoulders with the right beneficiaries, that those who were only there for a free ride got what they wanted before being carefully shunted away from the main rooms.
She’d finally taken a few minutes to peruse the works around the room herself, prior to the speeches she knew Josh would lead before the auction results were announced. She paused in front of a small oil painting. The subject in the picture was faceless but dejection was evident in the slant of the subject’s shoulders. It could have been a boy or a girl—it didn’t matter.
Callie felt a wrench deep in her heart at the picture. She remembered that feeling. The desolation. The despair. An invisible fist closed around her throat and the burn of tears welled up in the back of her eyes. The artist had done more than view the subject. Given the kids this evening was designed to support, she had no doubt the artist was the subject.
“Powerful, isn’t it?”
Josh’s deep voice, close to her ear, made her start in surprise. Last she’d seen he’d been three deep in discussions with some of the biggest names in New Zealand industry. The Palmers were, of course, notably absent.
She nodded, her throat still too choked to speak, but his next words startled her even more.
“Are you going to bid on it?”
She turned to face him. “Are you kidding? I can’t compete with the people here.” She smiled deprecatingly. “I’m not in their league.”
Josh appeared to consider her for a while before he tilted his head to one side. “No, you’re not, are you?”
Even though she’d set herself up for his response she couldn’t help but bristle. Words formed on the tip of her tongue, but before she could give them voice he continued.
“You have many more layers to you, don’t you, Callie? You should bid on the painting. You might be surprised to see what happens,” he finished enigmatically before acknowledging the hail of a well-dressed couple across the gallery floor. “Excuse me.”
He was gone as quickly as he’d appeared at her side and Callie turned back to the picture, her teeth catching at her lower lip as she studied it again. That she wanted it was undeniable. The child on the canvas could have been her. She let her gaze roam over the colours and textures of the picture, away from the central focus and to the outer range.