***
“What’s the verdict?” I stand in front of my easel. “Do you think I have a future in charcoal art?”
Piper picks up my sketchpad and holds it in her hands as her gaze takes in every line. “I see promise.”
She’s polite. My drawing is elementary, at best. I know it. I’ve never professed to have a talent in the arts. I may hang around for another class or two if it means I can convince her to go out with me.
She places the drawing back before she pivots to face me. “I printed out the list of students who enrolled this morning, your name wasn’t on there.”
“I’m not crashing.” I clear my throat. “I signed up late this afternoon.”
“Why?” She flinches as she looks back at my easel before her gaze settles on my face. “Joyce told me that you aren’t a fan of art.”
“How exactly did that come up in conversation with my assistant? “I ask in a low tone. “Were you asking her about me?”
Her cheeks blush with the question. “No. I mean...yes...we were talking about a lot of things. Art happened to be one of them.”
“Have a drink with me tonight and fill me in on what else you and Joyce talked about.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t?” I step a little closer.
She half-shrugs but doesn’t offer anything beyond that.
“Another night then?” I rub my jaw; irritated that this isn’t going the way I want it to. “Consider it a thank you for teaching me how to draw.”
Her perfectly arched brows rise. “I haven’t taught you anything yet.”
I’d love to push her to break her plans so we can have a drink followed by a night in my bed, but she just went through hell two weeks ago. I need to slow the pace and give her time. “You’re going to teach me to draw like you, aren’t you?”
“Like me?” Her hand flies to the middle of her chest and my gaze follows. There’s enough cleavage to suggest a perfect pair of round tits. The dress she was wearing in my office the day we met showed off a curvy ass. My teacher is hot-as-hell.
“Perhaps not exactly like you.” I take a step back. “I hope to see some improvement in my skills by the end of the course.”
She looks toward the studio entrance when Rufus, the now-clothed male model, walks in. “I’ll see to it that you improve. That’s my job.”
“Are you ready, Piper?” he calls from where he’s standing.
“Class is dismissed.” She smiles. “I need to lock up, so I’ll follow you out.”
An unwelcome knot of jealousy forms in the pit of my stomach as I brush past Rufus and try to block out the sound of Piper laughing at something he’s saying.
I signed up for eight weeks of this shit. I’m beginning to wonder why the fuck I did that.
Chapter 10
Piper
“I think our first class went well, Piper, what do you think?”
I nod as I walk toward my apartment with Rufus by my side. “I think so too. The range of talent in the class is vast.”
“I hear you.” He taps on the shell of his ear. “That guy in the suit should ask for a refund. Unless you’re a miracle worker, he’s wasting his time and money.”
“Hey,” I playfully hit him on the arm. “I get paid a commission for each student. I need every single one of them to tough it out until the end.”
He smiles down at me. “I guess I do too. What’s an art class without students?”