Picture This by Jayne Denker Read Free Book Online

stalker. Crap. She pried herself out of the man’s grip, ignoring the disappointment that it was someone other than Niall. What had she just told herself about forgetting him, dammit? “No, thanks.”
    â€œDrink?”
    â€œNope. I was just leaving.”
    â€œAw, you should stay.”
    â€œGotta go. Thanks anyway.”
    The man made one last grab for her, but she pirouetted out of his grip, grasped the handle, pulled the door open, and spun one more time . . . into total darkness.
    â€œShit,” Celia hissed.
    This was most definitely not the way out of the loft.
    She passed her hand over the wall, trying to find a light switch, desperately hoping she was in a room and not a closet. But from the depth of the blackness and the proximity of the walls, or maybe objects, or both, she had the very bad—and embarrassing—feeling she wasn’t going to be so lucky as to find out it was a bedroom or study, or even a bathroom. Uproarious laughter from just outside the door, likely from the sarcastic guy and his friends, confirmed it. A closet.
    Sighing, Celia leaned against the door, listening to the muffled chaos on the other side, including a shout of “Hey, girl! Come on out!” Not a chance. She was kind of enjoying the peace and quiet in here, even if she didn’t know how she was going to exit with her dignity intact. She figured that, based on the ebb and flow of the roiling crowd, it would take a while for the guy who grabbed her to drift off to another part of the loft, but once he was gone, she’d probably be able to sneak out unnoticed. Or at least un-laughed-at.
    She waved her hand over her head; maybe there was a string to pull, to turn on a ceiling light. But no matter how much she flailed, her fingers never came into contact with one. So, what, she was just going to stand there in the darkness, waiting till it was safe to walk out? Apparently so.
    Someone slammed into the closed door, and she jumped, taking a step back. Her heel caught on something lumpy—shoes, perhaps—and she stumbled into a coat. Every ounce of her remaining dignity—what little she had left—abandoned her as she promptly fell over, taking the coat with her. Its empty hanger jangled against the rod.
    Fabulous.
    Even more fabulous, her suitor decided now was the perfect time to seek her out instead of waiting for her to exit on her own. She heard the door open; the party noises got louder. She wondered if she should start kicking wildly now, to take the guy by surprise, instead of after she managed to haul the coat off her head. Yeah, that was a good idea.
    She sat up, ready to start whaling on shins, when a voice said, “Celia?”
    She froze. “. . . Niall?”
    The door shut again. She worked even more frantically to get her head out from under the heavy fabric.
    â€œNow, why didn’t I think of hiding in here?”
    He sat on the floor next to her, his hip touching hers; she felt his torso twist as he tossed the coat away, and she could breathe again. In theory, anyway. Niall’s proximity made it a little difficult.
    â€œI thought this was the way out.”
    â€œIt wasn’t.”
    â€œI figured that out.”
    She reached over to where she thought her purse had landed, found it. With difficulty, she rooted around inside until her hand closed around her keychain.
    At the sound of keys jingling, Niall said, “You’re not going for the pepper spray, are you?”
    She laughed softly. “No.” She turned on her mini flashlight and shone it around the closet. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
    â€œThanks.”
    She stopped the beam along the wall. “Is that . . . a framed Haring ?” Niall shrugged. He seemed embarrassed. She suspected it wasn’t a cheap print, either. Must be nice to have so much money that you could stuff a Haring original in a closet , she thought. Then she felt Niall studying her; she glanced