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his lips upturn in a kind smile. I’m sure he’s used to women staring.

Returning my attention to where it belongs, I shoot an email off to Susan, thanking her for the work and preparation she’s doing to ensure a smooth art show. The second email I send is to my cousin, Rachel, and my mother, Claire. It’s been a couple of weeks since I updated them on my activities, and I know they’ll be excited about the art show. With those emails sent, I turn off the tablet and reminisce about my vivid dream. More details come to mind, and I doodle on my sketch pad. Several minutes later, the image of a man with a scar on his cheek is looking back at me. I’m left wondering about the cause of that scar, then chuckle aloud at my ridiculous thoughts. The man is a figment of my imagination, yet I’m thinking of him as a living being. I need a boyfriend, I work too much, and now, I sound like my mother.

Gathering my belongings into my backpack, I swing it over my shoulder and head out to my motorcycle.

“Selene.”

I’m halfway to my motorcycle when I hear my name called with male bravado. Turning toward the voice brings me face-to-face with beach stud. Taking a step back, I finger the mace bottle dangling from my backpack. Just because he’s handsome doesn’t mean he’s not a threat.

“How do you know my name?”

The left side of his jaw flexes as he smiles. “I heard the barista call your name.”

“Oh, right. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to ask you out for coffee, but since we both just finished a cup, how about dinner?”

Is that a hint of an accent I hear? Irish maybe? My eyes sweep up and down, taking in his tall height, toned arms, and broad chest. Can this guy get any more attractive? I’m guessing he wins over every woman he sets his alluring eyes on.

“You’re tempting, honestly, very tempting, but I don’t do flings or one-night stands, and you look like you won’t be here in New York very long.”

Beach stud reaches out and snags my wrist as I turn away. My gaze whips to his hand, and he immediately drops it.

“You’re right, I won’t be here very long. I’m here on business for two weeks, but I would love to have someone local show me the best of New York.”

“What makes you think I’m local?”

“Just a guess.” One hand slips into a pocket while the other rests on his beanie and rubs his head. “Are you always this hard on men when they ask for your company?”

“For my company?” Laughter shakes my shoulders and curls my lips. “Around here, when men ask for a woman’s company, he wants to pay her for sex.”

A pink hue fills his cheeks. “That’s not what I’m asking for. I prefer sex to be consensual and for there to be passion.”

Goosebumps pebble on my arms as those words leave his lips. Goodness, it’s painfully obvious how attracted I am to him.

“All right, enough of the sex talk.” Pulling a business card out of my back pocket, I hand it to him. “I don’t give out my number to people I just met, but I’ll be at an art show tomorrow at the 369 Studio Gallery. Meet me there, and I’ll show you around town after. That work?”

Beach stud pockets my card with a triumphant grin. “It does. I’ll be there.”

“Great. What’s your name?

“Griffin Hughes. It was a pleasure to meet you, Selene.”

“I’ll decide if I feel the same tomorrow.” I give him a smirk, and he laughs.

“I have my work cut out for me then, don’t I?”

As I walk away, I raise both hands in the air. “Just giving you the full local experience.”

Griffin remains there, glistening in the sun like a golden statue, watching me get on my motorcycle and ride away.

CHAPTER TWO

SELENE

It’s not my first art show, yet I’m a bundle of nerves as potential buyers filter into the space. Servers in white dress shirts and black vests walk around, offering champagne as guests saunter around the room, admiring and studying my work. As they view the art, they discuss the imagination, color, and wonder the paintings evoke. My nerves begin to settle as Susan approaches in a cobalt-blue, sparkling dress, flashing me an eager grin.

“Selene, I have great news. A collector just purchased three of your works. Two for eight thousand and one for ten thousand.”

My heart pitter-patters, and I place my hand at my chest to ensure it doesn’t burst out.

“What’s the collector’s name? I’d like to thank them.”

“Mr. Griffin Hughes.” Placing her hand on my shoulder, she angles me toward beach stud, who’s standing with a glass of champagne, wearing a smirk and a dashing tan suit.

Apparently, I was right about him being rich.

“Do you know anything about Mr. Hughes?”

“No, darling. I’ve never met him before, but clearly, he’s a fan of your work.”

“Well, that’s a good start.”

“Start to what?” The wrinkles around Susan’s eyes form larger creases as she glances between Griffin and me.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I met him earlier today. I’m surprised by his purchase is all but also grateful. I’ll go over and thank him.”

Susan’s confused expression melts away. “Wonderful. I’ll have his paintings packaged.”

Swiping a champagne glass from a passing tray, I join Griffin, who’s moved to another painting. Facing it, one hand in his pocket, he takes in the details of the fairytale forest.

“Your paintings are exquisite.”

“Thank you for the compliment and the purchase of three of my works. I’m pleasantly surprised you’re a fan of fantasy art.”

“The goal of my purchase wasn’t to flatter you, I promise.” With a half-tilted mouth, he eyes me sideways. “That was an added bonus.” Turning to face me, he studies me just as he did the painting moments ago. “Your talent is enthralling and delightful. How is it you come up with such imaginative ideas?”

Under his liquid blue eyes, my emotionally

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