The nerves that kept Lily’s stomach twisted in a knot the entire day subsided the instant her gaze fell on the wall of photographs. William’s photographs, to be precise.

In a room full of art, they were the ones that not only drew the eye, but actually demanded her undivided attention. Dark, with landscapes that teetered on the verge between a nightmare and a dream, their presence saturated the space as if they were a living being, and Lily found herself walking across the gleaming marble floor, the complimentary glass of wine in her hand all but forgotten.

She stopped just far enough to survey the entire wall, then, one by one, drank in the exquisite play of shadows and light, the way art and reality seamlessly blended into something utterly unique.

It was astonishing, really, how the images lacked any kind of pretense, yet managed to capture so much emotion that she felt as if she were pulled into their own universe.

She pressed the cool glass to her lips and memorized the details to put down in her article later. Although how she was going to force herself to look at other works for the full coverage she was supposed to write was beyond her.

“Lily! What a pleasant surprise to see you here,” a familiar voice said from behind.

She half spun, a smile forming on her lips at the sight of her professor.

Bram Auster was one of the good ones. His History of Visual Art lectures were among her absolute favorites on the curriculum, the man himself among the smartest she’d ever met. Besides, he wasn’t the kind of person to sport that whole better-than-thou attitude that, unfortunately, seemed to be the norm.

Well, with the exception of those rare cases when the guilty party deserved it, of course.

“I was lucky to get in,” she admitted.

“And is your flamboyant friend around, too?” His lips curled up. “Or has the apocalypse truly arrived and she passed up the trio of good company, wine, and art for something more dreadfully mundane?”

Lily scrunched her nose at him and chuckled.

Audrey might have been convinced Auster was just being nice, but Lily saw the way his hazel eyes sparked whenever he saw her in class. And he never passed on the opportunity to at least mention her whenever she wasn’t around.

Yeah, her professor had the hots for her best friend. The two of them only needed to stop being stubborn and admit it to one another.

“She’s here,” she said, not bothering to mask her amusement. “Although I think she ran off to see Myres’s work. You know how she loves a bit of pop art in everything.”

Auster huffed, more affectionate than annoyed. Like Audrey, he was a sucker for pop art in every form and variety. After all, his groundbreaking thesis had been on Liechtenstein, who, coincidentally, was one of Audrey’s all-time favorites.

They really were the perfect match.

“Ah, I should have known she would go for his witty humor,” he commented dryly, but the mirth touching the corners of his eyes gave him away.

Lily tipped her head. “He is pretty talented.”

While Myres had been a dull, rip-her-hair-out kind of presence at the press conference yesterday, she couldn’t deny the bloke was inventive when it came to his photography. His work more than made up for the lack of flare in real life. There was passion there. Humor, too, as Bram had said.

But still, Myres fell short in every area compared to the man who was now headed in her direction.

Dressed in a deep green-blue checkered jacket with the top two buttons of his dark shirt undone, he looked more like a figment of her heated imagination than—

No, Lily doubted even her mind could come up with that level of good looks.

Her gaze caught on those stunning blue eyes. Then his mouth. Then beard. Fucking hell.

She burned to trace it with her fingertips, to feel those sharp cheekbones…and, possibly, the press of his lips.

Bloody perfect man.

Heat pooled low in her body, nipples tightening, and she blushed—violently at that. Damn her light skin. It was almost as if she had I want that man to fuck me six ways from Sunday written all over her face.

She pressed her thighs together and focused on her breaths, hoping to hell her carefully applied makeup would keep her professor from noticing how hot she was getting.

Of course, being the clever fox he was, Auster casted a casual glance over his shoulder then greeted William very loudly before shooting her a not-so-discreet wink. Oh, fabulous. Just fucking fabulous.

She could have pretended to be busy examining the art, but her reactions were slow. And William’s too fast.

“Bram bloody Auster.” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Since when are you any good at keeping secrets? You didn’t say you were coming, you wanker.”

“I’m leaving, too,” Bram shot back without missing a beat. “I have some pop art to ogle before your darkly brooding display pins me to the bar and leaves me wallowing in self-pity for the rest of the night. Besides, you already have an admirer here. Wouldn’t want to feed your ego too much, mate.”

Lily couldn’t help it. She glared at her professor as her cheeks turned from warm to blistering.

But somehow that only made him grin wider.

Fucking great.

Not only did Auster know she had the hots for his acquaintance—no, worse, his friend—but he seemed adamant to paint it on a bloody banner. As if she weren’t burning up inside from embarrassment already.

Mercifully, William told him to sod off before any other awkward thing happened to spill from his lips. Though, judging by the amused glint in William’s green-blue eyes, the damage had already been done.

“You know Bram?” she asked once the man in question finally sauntered across the room, headed straight to Myres’s part of the exhibition.

The amusement was still there when his gaze fell on her again, but something else cut across his features, too. Something heated. Carnal even. She clenched her thighs tighter, heels clicking against the marble floor.

You’re imagining it, she told herself—but didn’t believe a damn word.

“Bram and I are old college mates.”

Lily arched an eyebrow, the unexpected answer anchoring the storm of her thoughts. Okay, so William wasn’t twenty-five years older than her. Just twenty. That was better, wasn’t it?

“You’re taking his classes, I presume?”

Ignoring the sudden hesitation she sensed seeping into his voice, Lily nodded. “He’s my thesis mentor, too.”

“Master’s degree?” The hesitation lessened. A little.

Again, Lily nodded. And detested herself for it.

Sure, she was an introvert, but carrying a conversation really shouldn’t be this hard. Had never been, actually. Her mind, however, didn’t seem inclined to produce anything even remotely helpful.

Except swear words.

Those certainly suffered no shortage.

God, she couldn’t believe she was freezing up like some schoolgirl with a crush. Audrey would probably have a thousand subtle come-ons ready by now, but she couldn’t bring herself to think of a single one.

Furious with herself, she scrambled for a viable explanation. It must have been the sheer number of people who started milling around them over the past couple of minutes, eager to sneak in a word with the photographer, that made her this way.

Or maybe it was just that being around William fucking Charleston made it hard to even think straight.

He had looked positively dashing before, but up close, he was jaw-dropping gorgeous. The glint of those silver hairs, the small, soft wrinkles in the corners of his eyes… And his voice—

No, she wouldn’t fantasize about him while the man was standing right there.

But everywhere she looked and regardless of how hard she tried, that heated ache within her continued to grow. Her gaze brushed against those lean, masculine fingers. They were wrapped around his wine glass with a casual elegance that could only be labeled as hand porn. Oh god.

She smoothed down her A-line skirt, thankful she’d picked it over the almost sheer, pencil one she’d wanted to wear initially. She was pretty certain her panties were soaked through and through by now.

“Thank you again, for inviting me.” She met the force of William’s now perfectly blue eyes. “It means a lot.”

The words were plain, but honest. While Lily hated crowds with a passion, there was something special about being among the first to actually see the exhibition. Like catching those first rays of sunlight before dawn spilled across the streets.

William’s entire face softened as he smiled. “Don’t mention it, Lily. It’s nice to have someone around who appreciates the work, not just the opportunity to appear in tomorrow’s papers.”

“I hardly think Auster is here to look all important and pretty for a bit of social recognition.”

“Auster? Christ”—William ran his free hand through his hair—“he likes whoring out for the lens as much as the next bloke.”

She snorted, then nearly choked on her embarrassment. Manners, Lily, where are your fucking manners?

But William only laughed, and she really had no choice but to join in. It was bloody infectious.

She was acutely aware of the sudden increase of glances cast their way, but, surprisingly, she didn’t care. Not that she even wanted to. Something about that moment broke through the tension, dispelling the paralyzing tightness that had anchored itself at the base of her spine.

Good. This was good.

William’s fingers brushed against her elbow, electricity spreading through her veins at the touch. “I would hate to deprive you of your evening, but would you care to step outside for a smoke with me?”