Darren Pensky was in love.

Well, to be fair, he’d had a crush on this woman before he’d even met her, so he supposed it made some kind of weird sense that he’d fall head over heels at the mere sight of her.

Care to join me?

He was helpless to resist even as the logical part of his brain screamed, “Insanity!” Clearly this woman was some kind of witch because this overwhelming pull she had on him could not be natural.

He broke out in a sweat as he sank into the sofa beside her. She was even more beautiful in person than he’d imagined, and he’d spent quite a bit of time imagining what she’d look like after he’d gone to see her art exhibit three months ago. He wasn’t an art connoisseur, though he loved going to galleries and museums. There was just something peaceful about them. They were such a far cry from his work, which centered around crunching numbers—a skill he excelled at and enjoyed, but which didn’t exactly make his soul sing.

Not that his soul was in the habit of singing.

It wasn’t.

That was probably why he’d been knocked off his feet when he’d stumbled upon Yvette Clark and her paintings. His boss and the owner of this apartment, Bryce Dalton, had bought one of her paintings when he’d gone to her gallery opening with his girlfriend, Kat, who, he’d discovered, was Yvette’s best friend.

To say he’d been blown away would have been the understatement of the century. The painting was a wooded scene but it held so many layers. There was something ethereal yet elemental about it. The creatures hidden in the wooded scene revealed themselves by hints and glimpses, never outright. He was no expert, but the brushstrokes evoked thoughts of windy days at the seashore—the kind of exhilaration one felt out in the wild, not cooped up in an office.

Yet the painting had been sitting in Bryce’s office, waiting for him to send it off to his lodge in Montana where it would better fit the environment. And it was in Bryce’s office that Darren’s solid, steady, some might say boring, world was tipped on its head. When it righted itself, Darren was not the same.

He was changed by that painting. Moved by it in a way that all the art galleries and museums he’d visited before had only hinted at. The next day he’d gone to the gallery and viewed the exhibit in its entirety and he’d only fallen deeper under the artist’s spell. He realized then what art was truly about, and how influential it could be. More than anything he realized how powerful the artist could be. That artist in particular, he’d realized, held sway over him in a way that belied logic.

And that was before he’d met her. Hell, that was even before he’d done an online search and found her picture next to a brief bio on her website.

In the black-and-white picture, her hair had been pulled up and her face turned slightly to the side.

He’d thought she was lovely, as beautiful as he’d dreamed the artist of that painting would be. She looked like she’d climbed out of the painting itself and was gracing the world with a glimpse of her elven magic.

That picture was nothing compared to the real woman. He stared at her now, his brain a horrifying blank as his senses tried to take her in. But it was impossible to take her in in all her glory.

She was magnificent. Unlike the picture, she was all color—her ivory skin made the perfect canvas—an exquisite backdrop for those lush red lips, those startlingly blue eyes. Her purple hair somehow fit her perfectly, giving an edge of the exotic to her pert pixie features and pointed chin.

But it wouldn’t matter what color her hair was because her beauty went above and beyond the mere physical. She glowed. Was that possible? Could a human glow?

If so, she did. If it they couldn’t, she did…in his eyes, at least. Her skin was luminous, but it was her eyes that held him mesmerized.

They were blue. A bright blue and an artist could probably give their hue a more accurate label, but to him they were blue.

Blue and expressive. He had the feeling that if he looked hard enough he could see straight into her soul, that was the extent of their complexity.

He watched in fascination as her lips curved up into a grin. “Are you mute or something?”

He stared. He blinked. He wondered in horror how long he’d been sitting there staring at her like some weirdo. “Sorry,” he said quickly with a shake of his head to snap himself out of whatever bizarre world he’d just entered into. “I just, uh…”

Her dark brown, perfectly arched eyebrows shot up in amused question when he trailed off.

“Are you Yvette Clark?” he blurted out. Of course it was her. He’d known it as soon as he’d entered the room and spotted her sitting in the corner with a ridiculously attractive man who he’d been sure was her boyfriend.

He’d known it before Kat had come over to say hello and pointed her out along with some other of her friends that she wanted to introduce him to.

He wasn’t sure why but Kat had seemed to take a liking to him these past few months. Maybe because he’d been helping her with the tax logistics involved in setting up her new company.

Or maybe she felt sorry for him.

He wouldn’t be surprised. People tended to feel sorry for him, if they noticed him at all. It wasn’t that he was particularly pitiful—at least, he hoped he wasn’t—he just wasn’t outgoing and didn’t have the kind of personality that leant itself to making friends.

This was fine by him. Nine times out of ten, he preferred his own company to that of the people around him. But Kat either felt sorry for him because “he lived to work,” as Bryce put it, or she liked him despite his quiet demeanor, which was possible. After all, he and Bryce got along quite well and she and Bryce seemed to have a fair amount in common. Since Bryce and Kat were both workaholics as well, he felt almost certain that her efforts to make him feel included at this party fell under “like” and not “pity.”

Yvette’s reaction to his question was what he would have expected if he’d thought before speaking. Her expression was a mix of amused, perplexed, with a hint of wariness thrown in on the off chance that he was a stalker or something.

He respected that wariness. He’d probably be alarmed if some stranger came up to him knowing his name and staring like a creep. Clearing his throat, he tried to appease her concern. “Kat pointed you out earlier,” he said. That much was true.

Some of her concern eased.

“I was hoping to meet you because—”

“I think you should kiss me.”

I’m a fan of your work. His words were left unspoken as he gaped at this stranger—the woman he might possibly love, even though it defied reason. “Excuse me?”

Her smile was a burst of sunshine. “Sorry, that was a bit of a shocker, huh?” She shifted on the sofa so she was facing him. He tried his damnedest not to notice how that made her dress hitch up even higher on her thigh so her creamy white skin was exposed.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” she said. “I think you’re cute and I’m having a terrible night and I’m pretty sure that getting kissed by a good-looking guy will definitely help.”

Was she serious?

He took in her even stare. She was serious.

Wasn’t she?

He had no idea how to respond. Nothing in his staid, solid, and boring world had ever prepared him for a moment like this. He’d dated, of course he dated, but no woman had asked him to kiss her before asking his name. Hell, no woman had ever asked him to kiss her. All kisses had taken place after dinner, and sometimes a movie, when he walked his date to the door.

But Yvette wasn’t his date. She didn’t even know him. But she was asking and he—

Oh holy shit, why was he sitting here debating what to do?

He had a feeling he surprised them both when captured her cheeks between his palms and lowered his lips to hers, pouring every ounce of the crazy, irrational feelings he’d been harboring into that kiss.

There were no words for the intense spark that surged between them. Her lips parted beneath his with a small gasp, and he took advantage, his mouth slanting over hers as reason and logic stepped aside for a hunger that took full possession of his body and his brain.

He needed her. That was all he could think as his tongue thrust into her mouth, tangling with hers as he tasted and explored, greedily and with zero thought to where they were.

When her arms twined around his neck, holding him close as she met his kiss with the same urgency, he nearly drowned in pleasure. Heady and intoxicating, her scent filled his nostrils, her skin warmed beneath his hands, her body twisted and writhed to get closer and close the distance between them.

She pulled back and took in a gulping, gasp of air, her eyes wide as they met his.

For a heartbeat, he panicked. The crazy, mind-numbing haze of lust parted just long enough for him to experience a surge of horror. What had he done? He barely knew this woman and he was all over her. She must think he was some kind of animal. But before he could open his mouth to apologize, her lovely, lush, and swollen lips curved up in a shit-eating grin that made his heart stop and then start up again faster than ever.

“That,” she said slowly, her hands wandering possessively over his neck and arms. “Was amazing.”

He found himself returning her smile with a dopey grin of his own. He wasn’t much of a smiler—more than one friend and colleague had made jokes about how stern he always looked. But right now he couldn’t have stopped that smile if he’d tried, even though the tug and pull at his cheek muscles felt weird and unfamiliar, like a new pair of shoes that hadn’t been worn in yet.

She leaned forward until her smiling lips were so close to his he could feel her warm breath like a caress. “Do it again,” she whispered.

Yes, ma’am. He would have done anything she asked at that particular moment, except that before he could dive back in for another passionate, exploratory kiss, they were both jostled as one of the partygoers backed into the couch they were sitting on and turned with a giggling laugh to apologize.

That interruption was enough to bring him back to reality. He was at a holiday party. His boss’s holiday party, to be precise. Well, Kat was the one who’d sent the evite, but it was at their place, which they now shared.

He’d spent the past six years working for Dalton Industries, and while he didn’t expect that one night of making a fool at himself off-hours would get him fired, he also didn’t want to live with that kind of humiliation hanging over him every day at the office.

He could only imagine how much joy Bryce would get out of teasing him about a public makeout session. It would keep his boss with his rather juvenile sense of humor entertained for years to come.

He cleared his throat, gently pulling back even though moving away from this woman—this precious, dream-come-true woman—was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

But, he reminded himself as he took in the flicker of confusion on her face, this was the woman he wanted to be with. Maybe even marry one day. But wow, he was seriously losing his grip on reality if he was thinking about marriage at this stage in the game.

No. Love at first sight was a hard enough concept to grasp, he’d better stick with figuring out how best to ask this woman out on a date and take it from there. He should take things slowly, make sure she knew just how invested he was in this. Make sure she knew he respected her and wanted something serious.

But his heart was tripping over itself with excitement. He’d found her, the woman of his dreams. The woman who made the world light up in Technicolor, the woman whose artwork transformed the way he saw the world. The woman who was currently turning him on more than he’d ever known was possible simply by sitting close to him.

Her arms had dropped to her sides when he’d pulled away and now she sat there watching him with a look of…oh shit, was that hurt he saw in her eyes? Had she thought he’d been rejecting her?

He reached for her hand when she started to pull away even further. “Do you think…” He stopped to clear his throat, which had her raising one brow in expectation. “Do you think we should take this somewhere else?”

Her eyes instantly lit with laughter and something so seductive, it made him painfully hard. Lust. He saw lust in her eyes clear as day, and it echoed his own desire perfectly. Of course it did, they were a perfect match.

“We could go grab some coffee and talk, if you’d like,” he started. But she didn’t seem to be listening. She’d tightened her grip on his hand and had come to stand, tugging him up alongside her as she slipped into her discarded shoes.

She shot him a beaming smile over her shoulder as she used his hand to hold herself steady as she fastened her shoes. “Great idea,” she said. “Let me just grab my jacket and we can go.”

He followed her through the crowd to a back bedroom where she quickly snatched up a bright yellow winter coat from out of a stack of black, grey, and brown jackets. Slinging it over her shoulder, she shoved him toward the bedroom door and then down the hallway toward the front door. “Okay, let’s go,” she said.

“Shouldn’t we say goodbye to Bryce and Kat?” he asked.

She made a face that said she thought he was cute, but nuts. “And answer their questions about where we’re heading? I think not.”

He shrugged. Fair enough. At this point, this was just between them. They deserved some time to get to know one another before having to define this relationship. He followed her into the elevator where she surprised him by leaping into his arms and pressing her lips to his for another searing, mindblowing kiss that jumpstarted his body and left him panting and aching by the time the doors opened again with a ding on the ground floor.

He let her lead him by the hand again out into the cold night air, which managed to shake him out of his lecherous stupor long enough to ask, “Where would you like to go? There’s a bar down this way, or a coffee shop that’s open all night, or—”

But she’d already hailed a tax and was climbing in. He hurried in after her and shut the door. When he turned around, he saw her facing him expectantly from her side of the backseat. “What’s your address?”

He blinked at her before automatically reciting his address for the driver. And then, they were off.

To his place, apparently.