They spent the first few minutes of the ride in strained silence before Asher said, “I’ve never heard of a museum for the blind. How did you decide to build one?” Although he had extensive knowledge of her background from the file he’d received on her, he wanted to hear it from her.
Emily turned in her seat to face him and love shone in her eyes as she spoke. “My grandfather was an artist. He was never famous, but many people in town had his paintings in their homes. He also worked as a carpenter so he could build my grandmother the house of her dreams. Other homes in the area may rival it for size, but not in beauty nor in heart. His love for her is in the detailed woodwork and the stained-glass windows depicting her favorite birds. He and my grandmother collected artwork from around the world, not because it was worth anything, but simply in celebration of its beauty. She died giving birth to my mother. I can only imagine how he felt when he discovered his only child was blind. My mother’s fondest memories were when he would take paintings off the wall and describe them to her as she touched them. It was what inspired her to paint.”
The emotion Emily freely displayed made Asher feel unsettled. He didn’t know what to do with the feelings they pulled at within him, so he pushed his reaction aside and focused on the facts of her story. He tried but had a hard time imagining how anyone could paint if they couldn’t see. His doubt must have shown because Emily leaned toward him and nodded. “I know what you’re thinking—a blind painter. Impossible. It’s not. My mother’s work is proof that when you want something badly enough anything is possible. She pushed the definition of art to a new level. What is a painting? If it were simply an exact replica of what we see then all paintings would look like photos. Computers could create better than the human hand. No, paintings are a physical expression of how the artist feels and sees the world. Some try to define painting as a purely visual representation. My mother argued that people can experience beauty as surely with their fingertips as they can with their eyes. My museum is not the only one of its kind, but it’s my tribute to my mother and grandfather. They’re both gone now, but what they taught me lives on in me, and it’s something I want to share with others.”
Asher looked out the window of the vehicle briefly. He’d never had much appreciation for art beyond the investment value of a few choice pieces he’d acquired along the way, but he was moved by the story of Emily’s family. That didn’t mean he would let her attachment to a particular plot of land sway him into relocating his research facility, but he would look into the cost of moving the house instead of demolishing it.
When he looked back at Emily, she was flushed and clearly embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to go on and on like that.”
Instinctively he reached out and took her hand. “It’s a beautiful story.”
Her eyes rounded as she looked down at their linked hands, but she didn’t pull away. “I hope so. I plan to make it part of the tour when the museum opens.”
The attraction from earlier was back, made exquisitely more intense from the feel of her hand in his. He turned it over, caressing each of her fingers with his thumb, one at a time, slowly. Her breathing deepened, and he knew their closeness was affecting her as much as it was him. He didn’t want to talk about what stood between them anymore. He wanted to taste her.
He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it gently. She blushed, looked away, then back at him from beneath her lashes. “This is a bad idea.” She pulled her hand away from his.
“Is it?” he countered.
She looked so adorably flustered he was tempted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, but he didn’t. She needed time, and they had all weekend.
She blinked a few times quickly then said, “I don’t like you.”
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I think you do.”
The car slowed and pulled onto a private airfield, and the conversation was interrupted when the driver opened the back door. Asher offered his hand to Emily to help her out and enjoyed how her mouth rounded as she took in the size of his Boeing 757.
She looked from the aircraft, to him, and back. “Did you write your name on it because it’s so small you’re afraid to lose it?”
Emily didn’t look impressed, and Asher was irritated by her joke. “Size is a statement and one I’m proud of. Why wouldn’t I want the Barrington name on it?”
She gave him a bland smile. “I guess.”
He ushered her toward it with a hand on her lower back. “You hate it.”
She wrinkled her nose and said, “It just seems like a waste of money. Imagine what you could have done with the hundreds of thousands it cost—”
“Seventy-eight million.”
Emily stopped and looked up at him. “Are you joking?” She searched his expression and frowned. “That’s insane. You didn’t pay that much for this.”
He shrugged a shoulder and urged her up the steps. “When you see the inside you’ll understand why it’s worth it.”
They stepped inside the gray interior. Emily ran a hand over the glossy walnut trim of a cabinet they passed. She touched the leather of the L-shaped couch that faced a large flat-screen television. “I’m glad you showed me this.”
The attendant asked them if they’d like a glass of champagne and a platter of fruit and cheese. Asher answered yes and led Emily to a grouping of plush seats around a walnut table. Once they were settled side by side into their seats, he asked, “Why is that?”
Emily looked around the interior of the plane again before answering. “I won’t feel bad at all if you lose a little money when you relocate your facility.” She tapped her finger on a strip of gold piping on the material around the window. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. I mean, what is that, real gold?” He didn’t answer her, but she apparently saw the answer in his eyes. “Seriously? This plane wasn’t amazing enough without giving it bling?”
Asher wasn’t used to being a source of amusement to anyone. “Enough,” he said curtly.
Emily’s eyes filled with amusement. “Oh my God, did I hurt your feelings? I didn’t mean to. I’m sure there are many, many, many people who would love this.”
Asher laid a finger across Emily’s lips to halt her from saying more. The reprimand was more of a caress . . . and an excuse to touch her tempting mouth. “After takeoff, perhaps you’d like a tour of the other rooms. You might be more impressed with the bedroom and shower.”
Emily’s cheeks went bright red, and she sta
mmered, “Don’t touch me.”
A grin tugged at Asher’s lips, and he dropped his hand. Emily was a delight. He leaned closer to her and challenged, “Do you always play it safe, Emily?”
The plane picked up speed and took off while Emily chose her next words. She met his eyes again and demanded, “What are you doing? I thought you wanted to see my museum.”
“I do,” Asher said. “But that’s not why I’m here, and you know it.” He took her soft chin within his fingers. “There is something between us that would be a shame not to explore. I cleared my schedule for two days. I know exactly how I want to spend that time, and you can pretend to be shocked, but I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
Emily jerked her chin away from his hand. “You don’t have any intention of changing your mind, do you? You’re here because you want to have sex with me.”
“I could lie and say you’re wrong, but I’d rather be honest. Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t thought about what we’d be like together.”
Her slap took him completely by surprise. “You bastard.”
Adrenaline rushed through Asher as did his anger, but he let neither control him. He rubbed a hand over his cheek. “I didn’t expect you to have a temper.”
She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “I didn’t expect you to be a complete asshole.”
A primal desire to tame her rose within him, and his anger dissolved as images of her writhing in ecstasy beneath him as he thrust deeply into her filled his head. He shifted in his seat as his cock came uncomfortably to a throbbing fullness. No woman had ever tangled him up the way Emily did. If someone had told him a week ago he’d be sitting with a raging hard-on next to a beautiful woman while she called him names, he wouldn’t have believed it. What would she say if he told her that her insults only heightened his desire for her? I like her angry. The thought made him chuckle.
