The Art of Stealing Kisses (Stealing Hearts Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

here,
right?”
    He
lets go. “Yes,
of course. I totally understand.”
    “You
do?”
I’m
equal parts relieved and disappointed.
    “You’re
smart to separate business from pleasure. I guess I’m
not so good at drawing the line.” He
clears his throat. “But
if you ever decide you would like to mix them up again…”
    I
playfully swat at his bicep, relief washing through me. “So
we’re
okay?”
    “Better
than okay,” he
reassures me. “I
think we’re
going to make a great team. Professionally speaking, of course.”
    We
reach his car. “Take
the driver. I’ll
grab a taxi.” He
winks at me as he backs away and I think Dear god, Grace, are you really letting that fine ass walk away? He looks so good, framed in the streetlight, it makes me wonder what
the hell I’m
doing turning him down. “See
you Monday, super star,” he
says and disappears into the night before I can change my mind.
    Sometimes
being responsible is such a buzz-kill.

 

CHAPTER 4
     
    If
I was concerned about things being awkward between us now, I
shouldn’t
have worried. St. Clair is so busy with meetings all week that except
for a quick nod and smile in the hallway, our paths barely cross.
Luckily I’m
so inundated with work I don’t
have time to dwell on our awkward goodbye in the street after the
hospital gala, or my decision to hit pause on those perfect lips
coming in for a kiss, that carved body pressed against mine…wait,
why did I do that again? Work, Grace, remember? That career you’ve
been seeking for your entire adult life? Oh yeah, that.
    Besides,
I have so much to keep me busy, I barely have time to think. My work
is incredible—even
better than I dreamed. I keep track of international art sales and
dealer buzz, research potential clients, investors, and artists. I
visit gallery and garage openings like I did with my mom, and stay up
late reading industry tipster sites to stay on top of the latest
news. I feel like I’ve
been thrown into the deep end of the pool to sink or swim, but I love
that St. Clair trusts that I’ll
make it to the other side. It’s
been so long since I cared enough to try this hard at anything, and I
have to admit, I’m
enjoying it. Even the di Fiores have been supportive of my new work
schedule, leaving warm plates of food at my door in the evenings and
waving me off every morning as I head out to the office. If they’re
missing my waitressing, I haven’t
heard about it, and I hope I don’t
let anybody down by allowing this job to eat my life right now.
    My
new assistant, Maisie, is godsend, helping with anything I need, just
like she promised. I stop by her office, which is really the large
luxurious area outside St. Clair’s
corner suite. “Hi
Grace,” she
says. “Did
you ever find that email from Porter?”
    “Yes,
actually I wanted to ask you about that. Porter says there’s
a great new artist having a show, and I think St. Clair should invest
in this guy, which means…”
Maisie has
started typing again, while still looking at me, showing off her
enviable multitasking skills. “Sorry
for boring you with details. I just need to talk to him. Is there a
time when he’s
not busy?”
    Maisie
makes two clicks on her computer. “There’s
nothing on his calendar now. I just got back from lunch, but he
should be in there. You can go on in.”
    I
smooth down my hair and then push open the heavy door of St. Clair’s
office. I’m
greeted to a view of Charles sitting at his desk—across
from the sexy blonde he was chatting up at the gala. She’s
leaning over in her chair to give him a view of her cleavage that I
can’t
help but get an eyeful of myself. They’re
both laughing and don’t
notice me.
    “Oh,
sorry,”
I say, shocked, my cheeks reddening. “I
didn’t
mean to interrupt.” I
start to turn around, keeping my eyes on the plush carpet, and run
into a potted palm. Idiot !
I try to recover my balance and what’s
left of my dignity, but St. Clair’s
voice stops