Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
But Clay wasn’t sure he could split himself between his goals and a relationship. He wasn’t ready for an intense love that would devour his life. He had so many things to do.
But there was something special about Saskia. It wasn’t only the sex. It was the connection he’d felt as they talked. It was how she’d exposed herself to him by revealing her trust issues. There was so much more to her than what they’d done last night in this room.
It didn’t matter if he wasn’t ready for a relationship or a woman in his life. Or even love.
He had to find her.
But first, he called the robotaxi company and blistered them for almost running over the woman with whom he was completely infatuated.
Chapter Seven
Adrian’s office was almost next door to the hotel where Saskia had last night’s tryst with Clay. Seated at her desk, Adrian was alone, and Saskia walked right in.
Before she could ask about this big deal Adrian had mentioned, her friend and agent said, “First, the word is out about the new mural in the Mission District. The art world is going nuts for it.” Adrian arched one eyebrow in a practiced move designed to get the upper hand on anyone she was facing down. “But I had to hear about it on social media rather than from you?”
Adrian’s imperious eyebrow never worked on Saskia. “It’s been little more than twenty-four hours. I was going to tell you, but I slept most of the day.” How could the street art possibly get so much notice in just one day?
Remembering all the years when her art was barely seen, she was gratified that someone had found the new piece.
Adrian drummed the end of her pencil on the desktop. “Your work was noticed.” She rolled her eyes. “By someone big.”
Big or small, Saskia didn’t care. She just liked that people saw her art. Especially the stuff she didn’t do on commission. Those were the pieces that came straight from her heart.
Adrian was an excellent lawyer and an even better agent, and Saskia spotted the twinkle in her blue eyes. In many ways, they were complete opposites. While Saskia was tall, with dark hair falling to the middle of her back, Adrian was blond and petite. And curvy. She attracted men like flowers attracted hummingbirds. So far, no man had caught her.
“I can see you’re dying to tell all,” Saskia said. “So spill.”
In her precise British tones, Adrian said, “The guy who told me about it came here for a commission. He’s willing to pay just about anything. I mean an-ee-thing,” she stressed with bared teeth. “He wants a mural around the entire exterior of his warehouse. He’s a mega fan of your work.”
Saskia might prefer her street art to commissioned work, but commissions paid her bills. And Adrian’s.
“Tell me more.” Saskia slid into the chair opposite.
The high-rise office on Market Street overlooked the bay, and today the view was stunning. Now that the fog had burned off, the sky glowed bluer than anything she could find on her paint palette, and sailboats dotted the waters out by Alcatraz. She wasn’t a landscape painter, but this view was almost worth trying it.
Adrian leaned back. “Here’s the kicker. He wants to meet the great man himself. I, of course, didn’t reveal your identity.” Her lips curved in a cheeky grin. “Imagine. He thinks you’re a man.”
Saskia draped her forearms over the armrests in a disgusted gesture. “Why is it that men are always drooling over another guy’s art? There’s tons of stealth female street artists out there who use male-sounding pseudonyms because of the inherent gender bias in the field.” Just like she did. She’d chosen San Holo as an homage to the famous character.
“Sister, you are preaching to the choir.” Adrian leaned her elbows on the desk, the cream color of her crisp silk blouse accentuating her skin tones. “But since you want anonymity, if they think you’re a man, it plays right into that.” With a shrug, she added, “Especially since you don’t want to do interviews.”
Saskia had never wanted that kind of notoriety. She just wanted to make her art without interference.
Now some rich dude wanted to know who she was.
“You’ll never guess who.” Adrian said, almost deadpan. She’d been waiting for this big buildup.
Saskia let her have it. “Who?” she asked mildly.
“Clay freaking-billionaire-who-will-pay-anything-for-your-art Harrington.”
Saskia smacked her forehead, almost giving herself a headache. “Of course that’s why he was here. It was about my art.”
She should have seen it. But then, she’d so enjoyed talking with him and the sex had been so damn good, she’d barely thought about anything else.
Adrian was looking at her, eyebrows knit. “What?”
Saskia simply said, “I can’t do it.”
Adrian burst out with a yell of dismay. Adrian was her agent and whatever Saskia made, Adrian got a percentage. But even more, Adrian wanted Saskia’s career to grow, wanted her art to be seen by everyone, because her friend believed it was absolutely brilliant.