Lauren Dane - Whiskey Sharp - Torn

With her hair pulled back he saw the lines of her face better, noted even in the lower lights the darker lip and the dramatic eyes. He liked it when she was in jeans and T-shirts, but this dressed-up version was hot.

When he drew close, he listened to her speak about the artist of a series of pen-and-ink drawings she stood in front of.

This wasn’t just the boss’s daughter. Cora clearly loved what she was doing, but also had a sound foundation on which to speak about art. She was intelligent and quick-witted. Intuitive.

She was far more complicated than he’d given her credit for at first glance. Every time he saw her, he learned something new. Something more.

After the people she’d been speaking to moved on, she looked up and their gazes locked with a sensual punch.

He cupped her elbow as he leaned down to kiss her. He’d been intending on a cheek kiss but ended up with a brush of his mouth against hers.

“Good evening,” he said, stepping back but not very far. “You look fantastic.”

Her smile seemed to light her from within. “Thank you. So do you.”

“Do you have time to give me a tour?” Beau indicated the gallery’s contents with a wave of his hand.

“Of course.”

She led him through the gallery, pausing here and there to show him something or answer his questions.

All the while, her friends and her mother all watched them with undisguised curiosity.

“You’re aware your friends and I assume more of your family are clearly waiting for you to introduce me to them,” he asked her when she paused in front of a hyperrealistic painting of a scarlet leaf swirling toward a drain.

“Finley’s been playing internet sleuth. She and my brother have been looking at your modeling shots online. They’ve all seen your butt and tasteful shots of your dick.”

He nearly choked on his spit at that but she was amused so he could relax a little. His life had included a period of time when people took pictures of him to sell their products. Clothes, shoes, fragrance, lifestyle based products, he’d done them all. And there were pictures to prove it.

“If it helps, they both think you looked hot in the pictures,” she told him, a smile on her face. Damn. He wanted to kiss her again and then once more.

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t.”

“You remember that my mother is a kook, right? I mean, look—” Cora lowered her voice “—she might bring up the, uh, way you grew up. I mean, I’m sure my father coached her not to, but, she does what she wants. So. I apologize in advance.”

Adorable. Good god. This woman was beyond adorable.

“I’ll be fine. Whenever you’re ready.” But it looked as if one of them was going to bolt and come over to them if they didn’t get a move on.

She stood taller and gave him a look. “All right then. You were warned.”

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You made up for any potential issues with your family earlier this afternoon if I recall.”

Her blush charmed him.

“We’ll see what you think after you meet them.”

“I’ve met your mother,” he said.

She snorted. “Dude. You met W. Silvera. Another famous person who lived in the same complex. That woman over there? That’s Walda, my mom and also the queen of this space.” Her tone held a bit of bitterness and it tugged at him. “She’s the gatekeeper, or so she thinks. It’s different.”

Cora smiled at some people who passed by before turning back to him. He could see that bitterness had been swept aside.

She was also correct that this time, coming into contact with her parents and siblings was different. Which he’d been in denial about until that moment and now a little anxiety churned in his belly.

Regardless, he understood Cora enough to know her family was important, and if he meant to be around her, he’d have to accept it. And have them accept him.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he said.

With a smile, she took his hand and they walked over to where the Silveras stood, not even pretending they hadn’t been watching him with Cora the whole time he’d been there.

“Everyone, this is Beau Petty. Beau, you already know my mom and some of the others, but this is my father, John.”

Her dad gave Beau a once-over before giving him a firm handshake. Walda gave him a far more imperious look before she held her hand out.

“It’s nice to see you again. You’ve aged well. Why are you in Seattle?” Walda continued her regal look like that was how everyone met new people.

“I’m Finley.” A tall, dark-haired woman who shared the same eyes as her little sister stepped forward, interrupting her mother’s question.

“Nice to meet you. And you’re Alberto?” Beau asked, turning to her brother.

“Yes.” His handshake was firm, his look assessing but not hostile. “Call me Beto—everyone else does.”

“You were going to tell us why you were in Seattle,” Walda repeated.

“I’m in Seattle for work. I’m writing a cookbook, creating my new show around it. And for personal reasons. I have several close friends in Seattle. I find it easy to relax here. There’s a great food culture.” Beau gave Cora a look. “And now I’ve got even more reasons to stick around.”

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