Free Maximum Exposure by Alison Kent - Smithson Group SG-5 10 - Maximum Exposure Page B

gunshot. He felt it where she held his arm, where she held herself to his back. He felt it against his ear, where she pulled in a breath and exhaled, a feathery breeze.
    He ground his jaw, flexed his fingers when he wanted more than anything to fist his hands and knock the shit outta himself. He had no business being here. No business being with her, even if his being with her was only a farce.
    “It’s not that bad, is it? I mean, it’s not my cuppa, either,” she admitted. “But I can see the artistic appeal, the use of color and lighting, the juxtaposition of the felines with the females.”
    Talk about a bunch of bullshit. “Can you see the challenge the photographer had to get the cats to sit still? How they’re begging for the treats they’ve been promised?”
    “There is that, I suppose,” she said, slipping forward several steps to stand next to him. “I had no idea about your soft spot for animals.”
    He saw strands of her blond hair flutter in the breeze from the overhead fans, but he saw that in his periphery, because he refused to look her way. Right now, he feared he’d give himself away if he did.
    That’s how soft he was feeling. “How does your boss feel about you less than wholeheartedly embracing his gallery’s exhibit?”
    She waited for a moment, as if counting out beats, then lowered her voice and dropped a bomb. “I think the more important question is, how do you feel about my boss?”
    “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Roman had made sure that Roland never spoke a word about his love life, so if that was what Jodi was digging to find…
    “He’s got it bad for you. Almost as bad as I have it.”
    He did not want to have this conversation. “The two of you should see a doctor about that.”
    “It’s true,” she said, then let the clink of glasses and the low buzz of chatter fill the silence between them.
    He didn’t know what to say, whether to leave things alone and let them die without further acknowledgment, or be the friend he’d agreed to be and talk. He went with the first, the one that wouldn’t trip him up and get him in trouble. The one that was the easiest and required no commitment that he’d regret.
    “He told me earlier this week,” she said, taking his silence as an invitation rather than a lack of interest. “I stayed late one night, finishing some things I hadn’t had time for with all the prep for the show. I mentioned that you were escorting me tonight. He admitted that he’d like you to escort him, and then the floodgates opened.”
    She paused as a server approached.
    “Would either of you care for champagne?”
    “Thank you,” he said, reaching for two drinks, handing one to Jodi, finally catching her eyes as they sipped.
    He tried to look away, to not get pulled into what he was seeing, but he had been using her in his head for so long, getting off to her when he needed relief, that all he could think about was doing her with her eyes wide open and focused on his.
    It wasn’t a safe fantasy to play with. The atmosphere in the room pulsed with a grinding vibe. If he grabbed Jodi up against him and pulled her hem to her waist, he imagined the small gathering around them would scatter, but no one would be surprised.
    She lowered her flute, rubbed the rim against her bottom lip, then moved the glass away. “Well?”
    “Well what?” he asked, shrugging as he belted back half of his drink.
    “Do you return Dustin’s…affection?”
    “My private life is private, Jodi. I’m not going to discuss my affections.” If he did, she might not find this conversation to her liking.
    “Did you know how he felt? Before now?”
    “I still don’t know how he feels. He hasn’t told me.”
    “Would you like him to? I can go get—”
    “No,” Roman said, the low-spoken word gruff and gritty as he grabbed the wrist of the hand she’d used to gesture.
    She made no effort to pull away. Instead, she arched one brow and glanced down to where he