Married For Their Miracle Baby. Сорейя Лейн

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ raised his hand just high enough for the spotter to see. The bidding quickly moved up to five thousand dollars, and Blake stayed with it, nodding each time now that he was being watched. He didn’t like drawing attention to himself, and from the look on Saffron’s face when the bidding stopped at just over ten thousand, even she had no idea it was him pushing the price up. He was buying on behalf of the company, so to him it was small change, but he was certain it would be exciting for an emerging artist trying to make a name for herself.

      “She’ll be thrilled!” Saffron said, eyes bright as she connected with him. “All the other artists are so well-known, and...” She narrowed her gaze and he laughed.

      “What?”

      “Why are you smiling like that?” she asked.

      Blake grinned. “I bought it,” he said simply. “Hopefully she’ll be superfamous one day, and I’ll have a good story to tell and a decent investment on the wall of my office.”

      Saffron raised her glass and clinked it to his. “You’re crazy.”

      “No, just in a generous mood.” Blake had done his good deed, and now he was ready to go. The auctioneer started all over again, and he placed a hand to the small of Saffron’s back. “Meet me outside? I just need to sign for the painting.” He’d intended on buying two pieces, but he decided to make a donation with his purchase instead.

      He watched as she nodded. “Sure.”

      Blake paused, hoping she wasn’t about to walk out on him, then decided it was a risk he was just going to have to take.

      “You never did tell me which café you work at.”

      She just smiled at him. “No, I don’t believe I did.”

      When she didn’t elaborate, Blake walked backward a few steps, not taking his eyes off her before finally moving away. He was used to women throwing themselves at him, wanting his money, being so obvious with their intentions. Saffron was different, and he liked it. There was no desperation in her eyes, no look as though she wanted to dig her claws in and catch him, and it only made him want to get to know her all the more. If she genuinely didn’t know who he was right now, then he could be himself, and that was a role he hadn’t been able to play in a very long time.

      * * *

      Saffron watched Blake from across the room. She’d been dreading coming out, not looking forward to making small talk and having people ask about her injury, but so far no one had really bothered her. Until Blake. She had no idea who he was or if she was supposed to know who he was, but he’d purchased Claire’s painting as if it were no big deal, so he either had money or worked for a company that had told him to spend up. Either way she didn’t care, but she was definitely curious.

      The night air was cool when she moved out, but the large balcony was virtually empty. There was a couple kissing in the corner, obscured by the shadows, so Saffy walked closer to the edge, admiring the view. She’d never tire of New York. The vibrant atmosphere, the twinkling lights, the fact the city never seemed to sleep. It had a vibe about it that she’d never known anywhere else in the world, and for the first time in her life she felt as if she belonged, as though she was where she was supposed to be.

      “Am I interrupting?”

      The deep rumble of a voice behind her pulled her from her thoughts and made her turn. Blake was standing a few feet away, his champagne glass hanging from one hand and almost empty, his bow tie no longer perfectly placed against his shirt. The black satin tie was messed up, his top button undone and his jacket open. Saffy thought he looked sexy and so much more interesting than the rest of the suits she’d seen inside.

      “Not at all. I was just admiring the city.”

      “You’re not from here, are you?” he asked, moving closer and standing beside her, gazing down at the city as she glanced at him.

      “Is my accent still that obvious?” Saffron frowned. She’d lived in New York for almost ten years now, since she was sixteen, and to her own ears she sounded more like a local than a girl from a small town in Kentucky.

      “It’s just a little twang every now and again. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but...” Blake laughed. “Small town?”

      Saffy gave him a stare she hoped looked evil before bursting out laughing. “A little place called Maysville, in Kentucky. But I haven’t even been back in—” she sighed “—forever. You can take the girl out of the small town, but not the town out of the girl, right?”

      Blake leaned against the railing and stared at her, his smile slow and steady as it spread across his face. She should have shrunk away from his stare, from his attention, but instead she bravely faced him. All the years she’d focused on her career, dancing from her childhood through her teens and then through almost all her twenties, she hadn’t had time for boyfriends. But flirting with Blake felt good, and it wasn’t as if she had anywhere else she needed to be or anything else she should be doing.

      “So what’s a girl from Maysville doing in New York?” he asked.

      Saffy raised her glass and took a sip, wondering how much or little to tell him. “It’s a long story.”

      His grin was infectious, the way it lit up his dark eyes and made a crease form at each side of his mouth. The man was gorgeous, textbook handsome with his dark hair and even darker features, his golden skin sexy against the white of his shirt.

      “It just so happens,” he said in his deep, raspy voice, “that I have all night.”

      “I’d rather hear about you,” Saffy said, clearing her throat and trying not to become lost in his stare, hypnotized by his gold-flecked dark eyes.

      “I’m guessing you want to open up about yourself about as much as I like talking about myself,” Blake said with a chuckle.

      Saffron raised her glass again, realizing she was drinking way more than usual. She was usually too busy training to drink or socialize. Unless it had been with other dancers, she’d hardly seen anyone else, and she’d had to be so careful with her calorie count and her energy levels to waste on alcohol. She felt good tonight, though—alive and buzzing, even if it was due to the champagne and the smooth talker charming her.

      “How about we agree to no personal questions then? I don’t want to talk about work or my life,” she admitted. She’d lived her work all her life as a ballerina, but every night she flexed her leg, only to be rewarded by ongoing shoots of pain, and she was reminded of what had happened. How little time she had left in the city she loved, and how quickly her dream had ended.

      “It just so happens that I don’t want to talk about work, either,” Blake said. “Want to go somewhere less...” His voice trailed off.

      “Dull?” she suggested.

      “Yeah, dull,” he agreed, knocking back the rest of his champagne. “I hate these kinds of parties.”

      “I always thought it would be incredible to be asked to amazing parties, rubbing shoulders with the city’s elite,” Saffron admitted. “But I quickly realized that the part I liked was getting all dressed up. The parties weren’t exactly as amazing as they looked from the outside once I’d attended a few.”

      “So СКАЧАТЬ