Forever You by Lynn, Sandi (autobiographies to read .txt) 📗

paper as I took a pen from my pocket and wrote down the

phone number Richard obtained for me. “Thank you, Richard; that’s a job well done.” I hung up the

phone and looked at the numbers on the paper. Denny was looking at me and shaking his head.

“What?” I asked him.

“Don’t you think it would’ve been better just to ask Miss Lane for her phone number?”

“Do I ever do anything the easy way, Denny?” I smiled.

Just as I got out of the limo, I see Ashlyn’s name appear on my phone.

“Connor Black here?” I answered.

“Why do you always answer like that, Connor?” she said with an irritation in her voice.

“What do you want, Ashlyn? I’m very busy at the moment.”

“Let’s have dinner together,” she said.

“Not tonight, I’m working from home.”

“You’ve been working a lot lately, and we haven’t been together in over a week,” she whined.

I stepped into the elevator hoping that I’d lose service and our conversation would come to an end.

I smiled when the other end went quiet, and I looked at my phone to confirm that the call was

dropped. As I stepped out of the elevator, I walked over to the bar and poured myself a glass of

scotch. Claire emerged from the kitchen with a smile on her face.

“Good evening, Connor, I have your dinner warming in the oven should you be staying in tonight.”

“Thank you, Claire, I’ll be staying in tonight. Have a good night, and I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Thank you, have a nice weekend,” she smiled.

I nodded my head as I drank my scotch. I held my phone and stared at Ellery’s number, debating

whether or not to call her. I wanted to hear her voice, but it was too soon, and I’m pretty sure she

wasn’t thinking about me. After all, I was kind of a prick to her that night. What the fuck is wrong with

me? Why can’t I get this girl out of my head? I brought my laptop into the kitchen and set it on the

table. I grabbed a plate and took the dish Claire had prepared out of the oven. I set it on the table and

opened my laptop. I did the unthinkable; I Googled ‘Ellery Lane’. There was a link to an article about

her paintings that she has on display at the Sunset Art Gallery. When I clicked on the link, her picture

came up, and I couldn’t help but smile. She was beautiful with her long, blonde, wavy hair and ice

blue eyes. Damn that smile. I started to get aroused as I studied her perfectly shaped lips. I distracted

myself from her picture and read the article on her paintings. I decided that tomorrow morning, I’m

going to that art gallery and looking at her work. I had a feeling they would give me more insight

about her. I laid there in bed, thinking about the dinner we had together and gave thought to what Dr.

Peters said in reference to having Ellery as a friend.

The next morning, after I showered and dressed, I went to the kitchen for some coffee. Denny was

already sitting at the table when I walked in.

“Morning, Denny,” I said. “I appreciate you getting here early on a Saturday.”

“Good morning, Connor. Well, that’s what you pay me for,” he said with a smile.

I sat at the table across from him as I drank my coffee.

“I need to stop by the office first to pick up some papers before heading to the airport, and I want to

swing by the Sunset Art Gallery.”

Denny cocked his head to the side, “The art gallery? Are you in the market for some new artwork?”

He asked.

“I guess you can say that,” I said as I got up from the table and put my coffee cup in the dishwasher.

“Miss Lane is an artist, isn’t she?” Denny asked me.

“She mentioned that she painted pictures,” I replied.

“They wouldn’t happen to be on display at the Sunset Art Gallery, would they?”

I sighed. “Yes, Denny, her paintings are on display there, and I want to see them.”

“Are you ok, Connor?” he asked.

“I’m fine, why do you ask?”

“Ever since you met Miss Lane, you’ve seemed different. You hardly go out, and you’ve been

moodier than usual. I think she’s affected you in some way.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Denny; Miss Lane has not affected me. I’ve just been really busy with work.”

The way he was looking at me told me that he knew I was lying. “I need to run upstairs and grab my

iPad. I’ll meet you in the limo,” I said.

With my iPad in hand, I slid into the back seat and checked the stock market. We were stuck in

typical Saturday traffic when Denny asked me something that caught my attention.

“Isn’t that Miss Lane over there?” he pointed to Central Park.

I quickly looked up and saw her entering the park. She was wearing tight skinny jeans and a cream

colored, short-sleeve top. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that swayed from side to side as she

walked. I noticed she was carrying a large pad of paper. I opened the door amongst the