As I Breathe (One Breath at a Time: Book 2) (31 page)

“
I noticed it on the floor after you stepped inside. The wind must have blown it out of your shopping bag. It’s really kicking up today. Looks like a storms moving in,” he said pointedly.

I shifted my eyes from his perfect features towards a small window.

“Yes it does,” I responded without a thought and paused, processing how my receipt had landed on the floor. I could have sworn it was tucked into the pocket of my wallet. I always diligently put receipts away. There was a proper place for everything.

I set one of my packages down on the floor and reached toward the receipt.

“I assumed it might be of importance. That is why I’m hand delivering it to you.” He refolded it in half and handed the slip to me.

“
Thank you,” I said, retrieving it from his hand. I exhaled and half-laughed at his double entendre. The sound of my laughter made him smile, although I wasn’t sure if he realized why I had giggled. I blushed, rolled my eyes, waved the slip into the air and then stuffed it into my purse. “Yes, it’s kind of important...shoe receipt.”

Well, so much for any covert reason why he was staring at me earlier. It was now clear. All he wanted was to give me the damned receipt. I tossed my glasses in my bag, picked up my packages and clumsily turned to get on with my shopping.

“Hey, when I said your name, you looked at me as if you had seen a ghost.”

“
I did?” I winced. “Sorry, you just knocked me off guard for a second.”

“
Please, you don’t have to apologize,” he said, then paused. The cadence of his voice washed over me. “You should never have to say you’re sorry for anything you haven’t done wrong.”

“
It’s a habit, I suppose,” I replied bashfully. It was now evident that he was stalling for a reason to continue to talk, and to pay me compliments. Maybe this was my lucky day after all.

“
One that someone so beautiful such as yourself shouldn’t embrace.”

Who is this man?

“Thank you.” I blushed and fumbled with my shopping bags.

“
Let me ask Pierre to take care of those for you, while we peruse the gallery,” Greyson Rain de’ Bluche said, putting emphasis on the words
care of
—
you
and
we.
His pointed accentuations caused my heart to flutter. A sense of confusion came over me. Before I could answer, he gently lifted my bags from my hands and turned. Was he here to buy a spa as well?

“
Can I assist you Mr. de’ Bluche?” A man’s voice politely asked. Over Greyson Rain de’ Bluche’s shoulder I noticed a distinguished gentleman standing behind him. It was almost as if he manifested out of the dim lighting, the same way the moon does at night. The man came out of nowhere. It was actually kind of unearthly.

Mr. de’ Bluche acknowledged him with a slight nod and said, “Yes, please.” Then he glanced in my direction. “I’ll be gone for only a moment.” His intonation sounded protective. Thinking back, no, it was territorial. Perhaps both. Protective and territorial.

I gushed inwardly as he pivoted on his heels with my bags in hand. I was relieved not to have to tote them around. They were quite heavy, and they had gotten in the way once already.

“
Pierre, can you please take Miss Eden’s packages,” Greyson smoothly said. His voice trailed off as he handed my packages to the man. Mr. de’ Bluche seemed to know the owner of the store rather well; that was who I assumed Pierre was. I inconspicuously studied them both from beneath my lashes.

-32-

Mmm...

Pierre looked significantly older than Mr. Greyson Rain de’ Bluche. They drew in closer to each other as they spoke. Pierre was remarkably tall—as in looming a few inches over the younger man, who was already considered ultra tall from my perspective. Pierre gave off an impression that he would’ve catered to any requests that Greyson may have asked.

They appeared to have an immense amount of respect for each other. Pierre had a fatherly air about him, and for a man of his age, he was built quite nicely too. Surprisingly, he wore his hair long, pulled back into an approximately seven-inch ponytail. Yet it fit him well and was nicely groomed.

They both stepped a few paces in the opposite direction away from me. I bit my pinky nail, watching them in awkwardness. I strained to hear their conversation but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Mr. de’ Bluche intermittently glanced back toward me and smiled suggestively, cueing me in that he would be delayed a second longer.

As they spoke, I welcomed the opportunity to check Mr. de’ Bluche out further. I pretended to be occupied by my cell phone, meanwhile, discreetly eyeing every inch of him. The view from behind him looked as sensational as he did from the front.

Greyson Rain de’ Bluche had to have been at least six foot-four. In my four-inch high heels, I’d gauged his height pretty accurately when we were standing close. His physique was strong, lean and muscular, stacked with broad shoulders. He had jet-black dark hair that dusted his collar. It was combed back off his delicious squared face.

His choice of clothing was impeccable. Gray belted slacks, a crisp white shirt with one button undone, revealing a fine dust of hair, and topped off with an elegant designer black jacket.

I was impressed that he wasn’t dressed in a matchy-matchy suit from head to toe. He apparently put thought into how he presented himself. I especially liked the detail of the platinum cufflinks.

There was no mistaking beneath his attire he was packing concealed weapons. Not as in illegal guns...but dangerous man gear!

His smooth complexion was olive, but on the fair side. It was apparent he wasn’t a sun worshipper. His skin was poreless, yet rather rugged too, extremely manly. He sported a five o’clock shadow that defined his strong jaw line. I could see his profile as he spoke.

All his features were totally symmetrical to one another, so rare. I watched his full-lips curl, ever so slightly. Perched below his thick dark brows were his mesmerizing light-gray eyes that contrasted brilliantly with threads of coal-black ribbons shot through them. I found them intriguingly stunning.

Suddenly my cell buzzed in my hand...a text! My phone buzzed again. Perhaps I should check it.

Hey gorgeous! How is my American Beauty doing? Drinks tonight? Tramps @ 7:00...afterwards we can go back to my pad and watch the sunrise—meet me at the front door! T <3

Eww...His American Beauty?
We had never even met in person, and he was calling me his! He was trying too hard! He was way too forward, and I didn’t find him clever, at all.

The text was from a guy who Nuilley had been begging me to go out with. I wasn’t interested and had told him several times. Still, I felt the need to reply, it was the polite thing to do. I flashed up at Mr. de’ Bluche. He sensed me doing so, then turned and winked.

My fingers moved rapidly over the touch screen.

Thanks Terrance...I thought I told you I was dating someone special and moving back to the States with him...sorry


There, I settled that once and for all, no sense leaving him hanging. No pun intended!

“Did you miss me?” Mr. de’ Bluche asked so confidently, causing me to nearly drop my phone.

“
Uh...I-I was just texting someone—sorry.”

He tilted his head to the side, simultaneously lifting one corner of his gorgeous mouth. “No need to apologize. Keeping up on texts these days can be a full-time job.”

“Yes, that’s so true,” I said while my thumb was busy silencing the ringer to vibrate mode. I quickly slid it into the front flap of my purse. Out of sight, out of mind.

“
Would you like to look around?” he asked me.

“
I’m confused, do you actually work here or—”

He nodded and simply replied, “Sometimes,” then handed me an ivory business card. I flashed down at it.

Greyson Rain de’ Bluche, CEO

de’ Bluche Capital Funds &

Equity One Investments Group

“
Thank you,” I said, taking a closer look at the card.

How odd,
I thought. He was an entrepreneur who was obviously a millionaire or possibly even a billionaire for all I knew, but why was he here wanting to help me out, and so intently? Perhaps he was doing this to experience the operation of his investment, assuming that he was the actual owner. Who was I to have questioned what he did with his time?

“
Owning this store is one of my hobbies. I enjoy being involved. It gives me an opportunity to come down to earth, and get my feet wet.” He answered my question without my having to ask, which I wouldn’t have either way.

One of my old habits kicked in, opening my mouth without thinking first. “Nice hobby. I guess it gives you a chance to mingle with the working class. But, I think you meant to say,
“get your
hands dirty
.
”
I corrected, and then blanched. I wondered if he was so upper crust that he wasn’t familiar with the expression.

He laughed. “No, I meant, get my feet wet...in one of the spas.” His eyes trailed over the arena of spas, smiling proudly.

“Oh.” I closed my eyes for a second and recoiled inside. From that point on, I assumed he was the kind of man who means what he says and
says it
how he means it, in the literal sense. Hmm, ”
come down to earth
” now, that was figuratively speaking.

“
I love the sound of the running water, the atmosphere and meeting people such as you, which can be a real treat.”

His words were suggestive, not in a sexual way,but I couldn’t help but let my mind go there. His sex appeal was off the charts. Nonetheless, I understood why he would want to spend time at the gallery when he wasn’t ruling like a god somewhere else. After all, he was the CEO of a large investment company. Everyone needs a place to unwind. Like the rest of us mere mortals, I was sure he got stressed out, too. The sound of all the spas certainly relaxed me, almost immediately. What a great place to retreat to.

I ran my fingers across the embossed letters of his card. For a moment, I imagined myself running my fingers across his well-defined body. The thought of that caused heat to travel to my lower abdomen. My thumbs caressed over his name. In a sense, it could have been the closest I would get to touch this man.

“
Greyson Rain de’ Bluche. I really like your name. It’s very unique. Especially “Greyson Rain.” It’s very symbolic. Is it a pseudonym?” I asked politely, yet probingly. I didn’t think my question was too forward.

In Hollywood everyone uses stage names, not just actors, so my question didn’t seem that out of line. Heck, my ex had changed his name several times after he had behaved like an ass one too many times during auditions.

Although in this case, we weren’t in Hollywood nor was Greyson de’ Bluche an actor like my ex—
thank God—
therefore, my asking may have come across as rude. “I’m sorry for being so forward. It’s just—well, your name sounds like the weather...gray-sun...and rain,” I said, followed by a grin. “Therefore, I figure you must have a story behind it.”

I wondered if he was the son of Zeus, the ruler of the Greek gods and lord of thunder and lightening. I laughed inwardly.

I winced and covered my mouth trying to tame my brazen curiosity, but I had to ask. He didn’t seem to mind. I hoped that I hadn’t offended him by calling him a
gray sun
—which was ridiculous and silly—he was nothing close to that description. But he
was
blazing hot.

“
Yes, Brielle,” he paused on my name for a fraction of a millisecond. I loved hearing him say my name. “There just so happens to be a short story. My mother was the one who named me. She was pretty eccentric, a poet and refused to name me the fifth, after my father. He was the fourth of course. My father was infuriated that she had broken the chain of his family tradition. That was for sure. My grandfather, her father, encouraged her to think outside the box, which was unacceptable for women in those days. However, when it came to naming me, she stood her ground.” Greyson raised a single brow.

“
She sounds like someone I would love to meet.” I couldn’t believe I had invited myself to meet his mother. What had gotten into me? “I bet she’s a pistol.”

“
That might be difficult to arrange. God bless her soul with eternal life,” he said with an intonation of sadness.

“
Oh, dear.
Excusez-moi
...I’m so sorry.”

“
It’s quite alright, don’t hold back. Say what’s on your mind. I find you very interesting. But, she was a pistol—as you call it.”

Interesting?
I hoped he found me more than interesting.

“
If it is too difficult to talk about, I understand,” I said, biting my lower lip and feeling heat rush to my face. After all, I had pried into his personal life.