Billionaires Prefer Blondes Read Online Free PDF Page A

seen it before. It’s definitely his, though. Bold lines, the unfinished stone at the bottom. The mood’s very similar to The Thinker , isn’t it?”
    “There’s been some speculation that it’s a companion piece. It’s been in the hands of a single family in Paris since 1883. Their story is that Rodin wanted to put both sculptures on public display, but the city of Paris would only pay for the one.”
    She continued gazing at it. A nude woman in mid-step, her body slightly twisted as she looked back over her shoulder, her back-facing hand closed and downturned, and the forward-reaching one palm up, fingers stretched out. Her rear foot looked as though it were rising out of the stone, her front one as though it were sinking back into it. “What’s it called?” she murmured.
    “Fleeting Time.”
    Before he or anyone else could accuse her of staring, she faced forward again. “I like it.”
    “I’m going to buy it.” He spoke in a whisper, obviously concerned that at least one of their fellow diners might pass that word along and encourage interest in other buyers. “It reminds me of you.”
    Her cheeks heated. Great . A little flattery, and she went all gooey. “I have a better tan.”
    “And your skin’s warmer,” Rick agreed, tapping his wine glass against the rim of hers before he took a drink. “Could you find a place for it in the gallery back in Devonshire?”
    “Definitely. I designed the sculpture gallery at Rawley House to be oversized. We’ll just squish in the Michelangelo closer to the Donatello, and I’ll realign some of the lighting.”
    “‘Squish’?” he repeated, managing not to wince. “Don’t tell me any more. You’ll spoil my appetite.”
    “Hm. We wouldn’t want that.” Samantha glanced at the statue again. “Does it really remind you of me?”
    “It does, in ways I can’t quite describe.”
    “And that’s why you want to buy it?”
    He gazed straight at her. “That’s why I intend to own it.”
    In Rick’s presence she’d learned that it was possible to feel safe and uncomfortable all at the same time. At his words, that same whisper of satisfaction and uneasiness twisted up her spine. Of course, he was being metaphorical—he didn’t want to precisely own her, but he did want a little more control. But hell, she was having a hard enough time handling herself without letting somebody else into that arena.
    The waiter appeared, and she was grateful enough for the interruption that she probably smiled a little too hard at him as she ordered the guinea fowl. Rick went for the sea bass.
    As soon as the waiter left, Samantha blew out her breath. “Look, I don’t—”
    “You never gave me any details about your meeting with Boyden Locke,” he interrupted, buttering a piece of table bread. “Anything interesting?”
    “So now you’re changing the subject?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
    A smile touched the corners of his mouth. “You’re bloody fearless, my dear,” he returned, “but I know when I’ve blundered into your panic button. Did Locke show you his Picasso?”
    “Yep. And he showed me the wiring circuitry and the alarm panel. If I were still in the business, I’d have a field day with his shit.”
    “Samantha.”
    “I know, I know. But people are so damned trusting.” She leaned forward, tapping his knuckles with her butter knife.“If I walked into your house, would you show me your security system just because I said I knew Donald Trump and I had nice tits?”
    He laughed. “No, but then I’m fairly suspicious. One time a female thief did try to break into my—”
    “‘Try?’” she repeated.
    “The point being, if you could prove that you knew Trump—as in you both appeared in several magazines together and were known to be living with him—then I might be more inclined to trust you. Locke knows your history. The part that’s for public consumption, anyway.”
    “And that’s all he went by. Poof, she’s in New York. Poof,