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in.
    He still felt the phantom of her skin against his palms, the curves of her body against his. Sweet. Yielding and yet full of fire and independence. But not part of his world. Which was a good thing. His world would ruin her.
    “Why do you look like you just sucked on a lemon?” Kelsey handed him a plate she’d filled with actual food instead of that fluff they’d had at the gallery. “Eat.”
    “I do not.”
    She rolled her eyes. “I saw Prentiss outside. Is that it? I told her I was going to call the cops if she didn’t stop loitering. Her expression was enough to get me through at least five more grumpy moods. I question your taste sometimes, Gregori.”
    Then she followed his gaze to Wren and sniffed. “Ah. Please tell me she’s not why you have that look.”
    “You’re nosy.”
    “It’s a gift, my Russian friend. So?”
    “I’m fine. Here with my friends. Drinking and now I’m about to eat. Go away and pester someone else. How about Dray? He keeps staring at you and pretending he’s not. Go bother him.”
    Kelsey sighed. “Fine.”
    His attention shifted back to Wren. She spoke, that mouth of hers curving up into a smile. He’d had his lips on that mouth just an hour before and he itched to do it again. Even as he forced himself to stay seated and merely watch her, he craved her.
    Wanted her.
    He’d known her for the better part of a year. At first she’d been all business when she’d dropped his stuff off. But over time, he’d drawn her out. Had learned she was in art school. That she had a dry sense of humor. That she didn’t take the Gregori Ivanov mask he wore seriously. At all.
    She respected his work. It wasn’t just that she told him so. Lots of people told him so. He knew he had talent and he was proud of what he’d made of himself. But it was the way she looked at what he did. The way she understood it. They were alike in that way. That got to him.
    He was constantly surrounded by people, but quite often was alone. She didn’t add to that. She pushed that aside and got into his head. She ate his cookies and drank his tea and asked him questions that let him know she listened to him and cared about him as a friend.
    That was rare.
    He looked around the room at the people gathered. Some were his friends. People who’d been around through the good times and the bad. People who’d have his back no matter how much money was in his bank account. But certainly there were others here, hangers-on. The women he’d fucked when he got the urge but he’d never expect more. Women who never spent the night. Women he took to fancy hotels. He sent them jewelry after and it had remained pleasant and civil and he knew he could have it again anytime he asked.
    Men who’d have jumped at the offer he’d made to Wren to hook them up with agents or industry people.
    He frowned, remembering he hadn’t gotten to hear her news because of Prentiss. He sighed. His ex-wife, who’d never been vibrant like Wren. A woman who had been starstruck by him and he’d gotten off on it. And then they’d ruled over their world for a while and he’d gotten off on that, too. But he didn’t want it as a lifestyle. Not every day, and she had. She’d loved the money and the trappings. Loved the way they’d gotten great tables at all the best restaurants. She’d pushed him to live in New York, hating Seattle. So he’d bought a condo, one she lived in because he’d simply walked away after the divorce.
    Ha, the divorce. He’d turned a blind eye to the other men and women. He’d enjoyed some of the women she’d been with, too. At the time it had seemed exciting, and it was, the first few times. But he needed quiet to work. He needed to relax and not have to be Gregori the artist every waking moment. It exhausted him, the mask he had to wear. But Prentiss hadn’t wanted it to be a mask. She wanted to live it full-time.
    They fought. All the time. He understood at that point that it had been part of the allure