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Unexpected Passion
Chapter One
Sydney Gilbertson stepped out of the coffee shop and into the warm summer day, bummed out about her go-nowhere journalism career. After fighting her personal demons, one would think she'd deserve a break. When reclusive artist, Alex Ballantine strode past her, his long golden hair blowing back in the warm breeze, his trademark baggy sports logo shirt with ripped jeans and worn-out sandals gracing a tall, magnificent body, her jaw dropped. Her bad luck was finally changing, big time. She dropped her cup of coffee and ran after him. An interview with him would get her byline in some important newspapers.
As she finally caught up to him, she couldn't help staring, her heart skipping a beat. He was the sexiest hunk she'd seen in ages, and her foolish body responded even though she'd sworn off sex after her arrest. Lips tingling, she took in his strong profile and bronzed skin, thinking she'd like to taste him. His confident swagger fit him and completed the outer trappings of an eccentric brilliant artist, heir to a fortune that he didn't seem to want; a man said to donate all of his art proceedings to various charities. Of course, nobody knew what Alex Ballantine truly did because he kept his private life a secret. In short, he was fascinating. Sydney, as a cub reporter for the Chicago Entertainer, coveted being the first person to land an interview. She needed it like her next breath.
Sydney sucked in some fresh air, forcing her swirling hormones into submission, and cleared her throat. "Mr. Alex Ballantine," she said, panting, "I've been a fan of your work for years. May I please have your autograph?" At her words, Alex glanced over at her, as if noticing her presence for the first time. Maybe he had. Hell, she never considered herself very noticeable, but was she invisible?
"I don't have a pen," he said, sounding rushed. "I have to meet some people and I'm late. If you go to my exhibit at the State Street Gallery, I'll be happy to give you an autograph there."
She almost passed out as his low voice washed over her. No, no, she couldn't let his magnetic appeal distract her. He sounded even better than he looked...hotter. Trembling as his sultry eyes swept over her, she knew she had to keep her focus on figuring out a way to get him to talk to her. She'd asked for an autograph because Alex had a reputation of being very good to his fans.
Reporters were a different story. She wanted him to let his guard down and then she'd hit him with her proposition, but so far she was the one feeling vulnerable. No wonder, after her painful history with men. But this is business, and he isn't a potential john or lover. She didn't have a pen either. Damn!
"How long will you be in Chicago?" she asked. She knew, from her research, that he resided in the small town of Wepeika, Wisconsin and traveled for his exhibits.
"The exhibit will be there until the end of the week," hevsaid, stepping away.
Damn, he couldn't leave. She could hear him trying to sound friendly when he really felt slightly annoyed. Rumors surrounded the mysterious millionaire. Some said he was a great guy and some said he was just plain crazy. As her gaze fell, she could see a large bulge straining the zipper of his jeans. Damn again! She averted her gaze so she could think straight, and caught up with him. Is he a ladies' man or gay? Both rumors had teeth. Up until now, she hadn't really cared. Now it seemed vitally important.
"Your portraits are amazing. They capture the essence of your subjects—glimpse into their souls." Sure, she knew it sounded hokey, and he probably heard it every day from art critics, but she meant her compliment.
"Thanks." He sped up his pace. "I really have to meet some people right now. If I borrow a pen somewhere, and give you the autograph, will that satisfy you? I don't mean to be short, but this is a bad time."
Bad time or not, it may be the only time she'd get with him. She'd left countless voicemail messages for him that had never been returned. E-mails went unanswered. Her boss at the Entertainer liked her gumption, and she had to persevere, even against all odds. But she couldn't seem to make herself ask for the interview. "Oh, I'd love that!" she said, gushing. Anything to buy her a little time.
He stopped walking and glanced beside him at a storefront window. "I'll be right out," he said, disappearing inside.
Sydney's fascinated gaze watched him through the plate glass window. She felt a strange quiver from her skull to her toes, as if senses she'd deliberately stifled were coming back to life. The man affected her too much and it annoyed her. She tried to brush the feeling aside. She'd lived her life alone, without family, in foster homes. Sydney Gilbertson didn't lose her wits because of any man, not even this one. As he stepped outside again, he flashed a devastating grin, complete with dimples and she melted. Sydney's mind went blank as he stopped right before her, holding up a pen.
"Have paper?" he asked, their gazes suddenly locking.
Hand trembling she reached into her back pocket and pulled out an old receipt. He scribbled on it, handed it back to her, no longer seemingly rushed or annoyed.
"Let me take this back," he said, giving her a hard stare. "Don't go anywhere," he added, disappearing back inside the store.
She felt the world spinning.
When he came out he said, "I never understood the value of having somebody sign his name, but I do it a lot."
She smiled back at him despite her jangled hormones. He sounded good-natured now and his gaze happened upon hers once more, sending heat blazing through the air, from him to her. Her heart beat so hard and fast she swore that it would burst out of her chest. When he suddenly lifted a large hand and ran it down her face, she thought she'd melt in a puddle at his feet. Instead, she burned where he touched her, telling herself to get her mind back on business.
Alex's eyes narrowed as he examined her carefully. "You have an exotic, beautiful face," he said.
Sydney gasped, jolted to the heart. She wasn't beautiful. But she couldn't turn away from his tender, white-hot touch. It was businesslike as he turned her face from side to side, handling her as if she were fine china, but she found it oddly seductive.
"Nice high cheeks, peach complexion, unusual eye color—almost lavender—full, pink lips—good bone structure in your face—would you consider posing for me?"
"You want me to pose for you?" Her mouth went dry and she gaped at him, knowing she looked stupid, too shocked to do anything about it. This couldn't be happening, but it was. He was so close. She could feel his hot breath on her face, and his roughened thumb caressed her jaw with so much—what? She couldn't define it, but it weakened her knees. He towered over her, making her feel even more petite than her five foot two inches and her one hundred pounds. He found her attractive! It blew her mind. She'd always hated her long, unruly auburn hair and pale blue eyes—had never considered them lavender, although a few others had mentioned it. She'd always thought her facial bones were too angular. And she hated being so short. Everyone over ten years old seemed taller than her.
"Would you?" he asked again, his silver eyes glimmering. "I could do a facial portrait or a nude." He didn't flinch as he asked and blatantly raked his gaze over her figure. "You have a nice body too—slender, but still curvaceous—and your breasts—"
Her breasts seemed to tighten as he gazed at them, her nipples tingling, jutting out. "All right," she agreed, to stop him before he commented further on her breasts. This was going all wrong. Since she'd abandoned her old life, she'd tried to act like her idea of a lady, not as a desperate eighteen-year-old who'd been dumped from the foster care system, a teenager who'd needed to make a lot of money to put herself through college. Now she was ashamed of her past, and never wanted anybody, especially not Alex Ballantine, to guess her secrets.
The biggest secret, the one that had destroyed her entire self-image, had happened before age eighteen—when she'd become involved with her handsome foster brother, Josh Campbell.
She immediately forced him from her mind as she stared at Alex. He dropped his hand from her face, and she wanted to cry out for him to put it back. Was she nuts?
He crossed his arms, exposing bulging muscles under his shirt and taut, strong forearms. "I pay well."
"I don't want money." The words had just slipped out, but they were true. She didn't make a fortune at the Entertainer, but getting the chance to talk to Alex could further her career, increase her income, and just be an interesting experience. Money had never mattered much to her. She never got to keep most of her paycheck anyway.
"You'd need money," he said, and he seemed to snap back to the present, his eyes sharp. "I'd prefer bringing you to my town for a while and painting you in my studio there, so you'd need a place to stay, plus living expenses. Of course, you'd have to take off work. If you can't, then I guess it's no deal." He rubbed his chin, looking deep in thought again. "There must be a way. I have to paint you."
She thought of her vacation time. Plenty had accumulated. It would certainly be worth it to spend it with the likes of Alex Ballantine. Maybe, while he painted her, she could break down his guard enough to learn about him and write that article. Hell, she could already hear the Chicago Tribune calling her...maybe even a television station...
"How long would this project take?" she asked, trying to sound calm.
"Could be a few months."
The harder he stared at her, the more she melted inside. Trying to keep her voice from shaking, she said, "Well, I won't pose nude for you."
His lips tightened, then he shrugged. "I won't lie. I'll try to talk you into it, but, if I have to settle, you'd still make a nice facial portrait."
She swallowed hard as her head swam. To say that his flattery undid her would have been a gross understatement. As they continued locking gazes, she felt his magnetic sexuality and blatant male allure. She knew for a fact that he wasn't gay, in spite of rumors. Nobody who spent any time around him would accuse him of that. She'd seen his heated eyes as they fell on her breasts. He was pure unfettered heterosexual male, animalistic, predatory, and dangerous to her peace of mind. His muscles tightened when he moved his arms, showing his brute strength. She knew he'd spent a few years doing professional wrestling, which had puzzled and amused the artistic world. He'd been popular too, but had quit at the height of his career. Why he had done his unexplainable stint with wrestling nobody knew. So many questions about him needed answering.
"Look," he said, glancing down the street, "I have to meet my brother and his wife. They came up for the exhibit. Come with me. I'll be late if I don't hurry." He grabbed her hand, and glanced over at her. "All right?"
She could only nod. His large hand tightened over her tiny one. She didn't usually feel so vulnerable or feminine, but few men were as tall or well built as Alex. He started walking down the street and she found herself falling into step with him.
"What's your name?" he asked, squeezing her hand, maybe unintentionally.
She tried to sound calm and cool, hoping he thought that her sweating palm was due to the heat. "Sydney. People just call me Syd."
"Syd! That's cute." He shot her a devastating grin, and she stopped breathing as he continued. "What do you do for a living?"
Shit! Her gut clenched. Only missing a beat she said, "I'm a freelance writer, work from home." She hadn't lied. That was another way she brought in a few bucks. A very few.
As they strode along, he circled his hand around hers in an almost possessive way; he glanced over at her and grinned. "That's cool. Can you pay the bills doing that?"
"Yes, I'm pretty successful." She heard one of her foster mother's yelling at her about how lies always came back to bite you in the butt. And she hated to lie, but he'd dump her like small change if he knew her true profession, and she didn't want that. For more than just her wish to get the lowdown on him, she wanted to enjoy his company. She bet he was a good time, and it had nothing to do with his to-die-for good looks.
One person you can't lie to is yourself, Syd. He does seem like a fun, good-natured man, in spite of all the rumors about him, but his overwhelming good looks definitely add to his appeal. What would it feel like to tangle your hands in that silky hair or run your palms over his broad chest and...
"We'll have to talk more about your writing later on," he said, as they turned a corner. He instantly broke into another wide, beautiful grin and waved at a couple standing at the end of the block. "That's my twin brother and his wife," he said, starting to speak quickly. "Damian and Casey. My two favorite people in the world. They came down from Wisconsin to see my exhibit and take a much-needed mini-vacation. Casey had a baby six months ago and they already have a rather rambunctious, high-maintenance eleven-year-old son."
As they drew closer to the couple, Sydney recognized a face she'd seen on the Internet and in newspaper photos. Damian Ballantine helped run the family business—a large paper mill in Wepeika, and had been a notorious alcoholic who almost died. His scandals had been covered in detail, especially locally, but he'd stopped drinking after almost getting into a horrible motorcycle accident. She noticed that, in person, Alex's handsome brother looked a lot like him, although they were fraternal.
When Alex and Sydney reached the pair, Alex immediately went up to his tall, long-haired sister-in-law. "Hello, beautiful," he said, then lifted Casey in his arms and whirled her around, kissing her on the cheek.
Sydney felt a strange pang of jealousy as Casey gave Alex an extra hug after he set her back down. Next Alex jumped playfully to Damian's side and gripped him in a wrestler's headlock. Damian laughed, swore, and struggled to free himself, but couldn't, so Alex let go. "Weakling," he said, in a teasing voice as his brother straightened up. He thumped him affectionately on the back, and the brothers looked at one another and broke into laughter again, like they had a secret understanding of one another. Casey looked on with obvious affection.
Sydney felt a stinging in the corners of her eyes, like she did every time she witnessed cozy family love, the type she'd never experienced. At thirty years old, she doubted she'd ever fit in anywhere and she felt as if a wall had just dropped around her, sealing her off from the rest of the world. The love between Alex, his brother and sister-in-law was palpable.
"I can't believe you're actually here on time and in the right spot," Alex said, teasing Damian.
Damian put his arm around his wife, then looked down at her. Sydney caught her breath. Wow. If only somebody would look at her with that depth of love... It's never going to happen, Syd. Stop torturing yourself.
"Casey made sure we got here," Damian said, turning back to Alex, flashing him a brilliant grin.
Damian was almost as hot as Alex. Sydney tried to keep her head.
Casey suddenly looked at Sydney and tossed her a friendly smile. "Hi," she said, her dark eyes shining with warmth. "I'll introduce myself, since Alex has no manners." She slid a mischievous look at Alex, then turned back toward her. "I'm Casey, and this," she smiled softly at her husband, "is Damian, my better half."
"Not true," Damian said, pulling Casey close to him. He focused
back on Sydney. "What's your name, sweetie? Alex sure found
himself a pretty little lady today."
Sydney liked him right away. There was a sweetness about him, in spite
of his tall, muscled build and strong features.
"This is Cindy," Alex said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
"Uh—Sydney."
Damian burst out laughing again. "Cindy was probably last night."
Everyone found that funny, except Sydney, who felt a rush of heat and
embarrassing jealousy as she leaned into Alex's hard body. Hell,
she was so close to him that she could smell his musky, leathery scent.
Her body shuddered slightly as her sleeping erotic senses leaped to life.
Yet a pang of sadness rippled through her. The rumors about Alex having
women throwing themselves at him were obviously true.
And why do you care? You were meant to stand alone in life. You've done it so far; just enjoy the little you get from this incredible man. At least get your story, and maybe a good job offer.
Sydney would use him to get what she needed. She'd learned that if she didn't go after what she wanted, nobody would do it for her. And people had disappointed her since childhood. That she felt a little guilty about using Alex to get ahead annoyed her.
"I want to use Sydney as my next artistic subject," Alex said to Damian and Casey.
"I can see why," Damian said, staring at her from under long lashes that were just a shade darker than Alex's. "It's for a good cause." His gaze went to hers. "All the proceeds of his paintings—"
"Shut up, Damian." Alex knocked him in the shoulder.
"Alex," Casey said, "you're so ridiculous about how you hide this. It's admirable."
Sydney stopped breathing. Was he going to confirm that he gave all his art money to charity? The reporter in her waited.
"Cut it out," Alex said, and he wasn't joking around.
Casey shrugged.
"Let's go out to that restaurant for dinner," Alex said, his voice gruff. "They better not have a dress code, either. I'm not changing."
"It's casual," Damian said, letting out an exasperated breath.
Alex unwrapped his arm from Sydney's shoulders, and she felt the loss of his touch and wanted to beg him to return it. She didn't dare. He reached into the back of his jeans and handed her a card. "Call me," he said. "Leave a message, and if you want to model for me, I'll get right back to you. I can start right after the exhibit. We'll talk fees later. I wouldn't allow you to pose for me for free."
She ran her thumb across the black words: Alexander S. Ballantine. At the same time, she kept her eyes low, not wishing him to see her disappointment that he didn't want her to go with them to dinner. Well, it was probably just for family.
"Nice to meet you, beautiful," he said. He slid his big hand back to her shoulder, massaging her with sensual teasing.
His renewed touch set off bonfires inside of her, shooting through her entire body, straight to her sex. She'd forgotten that wonderful feeling, and no man as luscious as Alex had ever touched her before.
"Nice to meet you too," she said, knowing that she'd pose for him, knowing she'd deceive him to get her story. She had to pause for a few beats before she lifted her gaze. God, his eyes seemed to penetrate right through her and read her mind. Luckily, she knew that he couldn't.
She felt him pulling her closer to him and her heart started fluttering. Normally, she didn't let strangers touch her, let alone enjoy that touch. Her response to him puzzled her as he bent down to accommodate their height difference and folded her into his embrace, seemingly uncaring about his brother or Casey looking on.
His arms wrapped around her back and he slowly, seductively, passionately pressed his mouth against hers, his tongue gently sliding inside of her, and she found herself responding to him the same way. As he forced his lips harder against hers, swirling his tongue around to taste her, her breasts tingled and her sex got wet...it had been so long.
She wanted him. And all because of one hell of a tasty, minty, masculine kiss from this intoxicating man.
When he pulled back, her knees were trembling. He held her arms and smiled at her. "Call me," he said, and winked.
Damn his kisses and his winks! She felt breathless as he gave her a brief wave, then turned toward Damian and Casey, both of whom were looking at her in amusement. She felt her face heating.
"Ask her to come with us," she heard Casey whispering to Alex.
"No," Alex whispered back. "Let's go."
Sydney felt a pang of disappointment, but smiled at them as Damian and Casey spoke their final good-byes. Damian took Casey's hand and spun her around, like they were dancing, and the dark-haired woman laughed. He gave her a quick kiss, then they started strolling down the street.
Alex lingered a moment. "Glad I met you," he said, then his cheeks reddened and he swung around and jogged a few paces to catch up with Damian and Casey.
Sydney didn't move, couldn't move. The man had rendered her mind and body completely useless. Alexander Ballantine had kissed her, an artist she'd admired for his gifts, yet had not known anything about until today. Now she had a few nuggets of Alex, the man. In their short time together, she learned that he was the handsomest man on Earth, he didn't take his fame seriously, he had a good nature, and his kisses were hotter than hell and made her crave things she shouldn't.
She caressed his business card, still in her hand, as she watched him until he turned a corner. She finally exhaled, but still couldn't move. Hurried people brushed by her in both directions, but she didn't care. As she basked in the afterglow of his kiss, her cell phone rang, snapping her back down to Earth.
Quickly, she grabbed it out of her back pocket and put it to her ear.
"Sydney Gilbertson," she said, aware that her voice sounded hoarse.
"Git off that Sydney kick," her mother said, in a derisive voice. "You was born Sally Gale and you still are. I was wunnering when you're sending me my check."
Sydney shut her eyes. Her past always caught up with her, especially now that her mother had moved from Tennessee to a trailer home in Des Plaines, Illinois. Her mother, who'd let her flounder in foster care, now blackmailed her. Sydney felt she'd have no shot as a television or major market newspaper reporter if the world she'd left behind caught up with her. Who would want to hire somebody whose life could make the cover of Enquiring Minds? There was more to it than that, though. She didn't want anybody to know. She was too ashamed. Not only did her mother know about her arrest; she knew about her deepest, darkest secret, that had happened in high school, the event that had colored her life and had made her feel a little less than human.
"Money's in the mail," she said and hung up, making a mental note to write out a sizable check to her mother, wondering what she'd spend it on. Booze? Drugs? Food? She hoped her mother spent the money wisely. Emma had vowed that she'd stopped drinking and using drugs.
No longer glowing or in high spirits, Sydney walked slowly down the sidewalk to the parking lot, her emotions suddenly in turmoil.
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