Playing For Keeps

by Yahrah St. John

• ISBN13: 9780373860555
• ISBN10: 0373860552
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2008-02-01
• Publisher: Harlequin Kimani

Summary

More than meets the eyeDriven and ambitious, commercial-art buyer Avery Roberts always trusts first impressions, whether it's art...or men. Sexy Quentin Davis might make her pulse race, but the smooth, laid-back charmer is not her type. Then a secret about her past comes to light, leaving her vulnerable, shattered--and turning to Quentin for strong shoulders and sympathy. One kiss, and fierce attraction takes over, leaving first impressions in a haze of sensual bliss.Quentin's focus was always on the next assignment, leaving no room for long-term relationships or commitment.Now sleek, sophisticated Avery has him looking beyond his camera and his career. But as love and aspirations collide, heartbreak seems inevitable, until Quentin realizes he can't picture a life--or a future--without Avery in it.

Excerpts

"The lighting is all wrong," Avery Roberts commented to a staff member at the Henri Lawrence Gallery in SoHo, New York City. Located on Houston and Broadway, HLG was an eclectic mix of contemporary art."How about here?" Ben tried another position on the wall and glanced in Avery's direction. Everyone knew Avery to be demanding, but Ben had never thought so until now. Slender and strikingly beautiful with cafeacute;-au-lait-colored skin and green eyes, dressed in a fitted gray pantsuit and pink silk blouse with a V neckline that revealed a hint of cleavage, she was every man's wet dream.So how could a woman that beautiful be such an ice princess?Avery smoothed her shoulder-length ponytail and prim bangs with one hand and sighed wearily. "No, no, no." She shook her head. "Move it over there," she ordered, indicating a corner spot in her section of the gallery. It had just the right amount of natural light overhead to reflect her new artist's work.A buyer at the gallery for several years after attending NYU, Avery knew art. She was well versed in contemporary, Renaissance, baroque and neoclassical art. Ever since she'd been a child, she'd had a fascination with the craft. Thanks in part to her mother, an avid art collector."How's it look now?" he asked.Avery nodded her acceptance. "That's perfect," she replied, walking up to the painting and adjusting it slightly. She was admiring the piece when Hunter Garrett, her boss and the director of the gallery, approached."I thought it was fine where it was," Hunter commented from her side."No," Avery disagreed. "I think the lighting is better here.""If you say so."Why did Hunter always have to be so critical? He always had something negative to say about whatever she did because he thought his skills superior to hers. That was why she didn't care an ounce for Hunter Garrett. Sure, he was tall--he was several inches over her five foot eight--mildly attractive, reasonably intelligent and well dressed. Avery just didn't care for his smug attitude or air of bravado.Because her father, Clayton Roberts, was vice president of Manhattan Federal Savings Bank and her mother, Veronica Roberts, was queen bee of the socialite arena, Avery had dated plenty of men in her social circle just like Hunter. Arrogant and conceited, men like him thought the sun rose and set on themselves."Perhaps you should take a break and join me for lunch," Hunter suggested."No, thanks," Avery politely refused. Why would he ask her to lunch when he knew she had tons of work to do before the showing tonight?"That's too bad," Hunter replied. "I know a great little Japanese place that makes the best sushi.""I don't eat raw fish," Avery lied, walking away from Hunter and heading toward the stairs that led to their small suite of offices. She loved sushi, but she would never admit it to Hunter. "I like mine cooked, thank you very much.""Have it your way," Hunter said, from the bottom of the stairs."I will, thank you." Avery feigned a polite smile and rushed up to her windowless ten-by-ten office. Once she was safely ensconced within its confines, she fell against the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow she had to get the monkey that was her boss off her back, but how?"I'm excited to have you back on this side of the Atlantic," talent agent Jason Morgan told his most prized client, photographer Quentin Davis, later that morning at his office on Madison Avenue. "Your work has been on point. And if I do say so myself, it's been some of the best of your career.""Thank you." Quentin appreciated the compliment, but he was dead tired. He had just flown in on the red-eye from London and had barely had time to drop off his bags and shower at his loft in SoHo before coming to Jason's office. He'd changed out of his favorite pair of Sean John jeans, Skechers and a fitted T-shirt into a more appropriate cashmere cable-knit pullover sweater and trousers