“Y’know,” he said, following her, “I’ve always thought Mona Lisa more a Harley rider.”
She rolled her eyes, a warm lick of delight tickling through her. “Funny and rich.”
“Guilty as charged.” Horror fell over his face and he stopped walking. “Christ, I didn’t…that was thoughtless of me.”
She came to a halt, pivoting to look at him directly. “It’s okay, James. Dad was guilty as charged. I’m not going to take offense at a simple saying. Especially when you dressed up so nice.”
A wry chuckle fell from him, and he looked down at his body. “Too much? It’s too much, isn’t it?”
“Well…” She pursed her lips.
He looked incredible. His charcoal suit was impeccable, his shirt pristine white and crisp. An emerald-green-and-purple tie was perfectly knotted at his neck. His shoes…
“Are those suede green Converse Chuck Taylors on your feet?”
He looked down at his shoes. “You don’t like them?”
She laughed. “I love them. I might just draw them today. You can take them off, go do what you have to do, and collect them at one if you like?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Trying to get rid of me?”
Her heart skipped up into her throat. She caught her bottom lip with her teeth, and then winced at the coconut-flavored balm.
“No.” Why did she sound so goddamn husky?
His nostrils flared as he pulled a slow breath. “Good. Because the only thing I have to do today is what I’m doing right now. Be with you.”
Damn it, he was going to be her undoing.
Silence stretched between them. Her heart beat faster.
“What if I remove the tie?” He lifted his hand to tug loose the knot. Laughter danced in his eyes.
“Uptight but relaxed at the same time, you mean?” She couldn’t help but grin.
“The perfect contradiction.”
She swallowed. Did he have any idea how accurate he was? “Let’s get to drawing,”
Two hours later, two hours of casual chatting about anything that seemed to pop into their minds—be it their favorite movies, global warming, pet ownership, music, and preferred junk food—she called it a halt for the day.
Aglow with the rush she always experienced when drawing, she studied the sketches she’d done of his head, face, hands, and eyes. “It’s a start.”
The sketches captured everything he’d been during the last two hours, every relaxed laugh, every companionable moment. She couldn’t deny there was a magic to the sketches. And a truth about the man seldom evident in the images of him found in the media.
Was it due to her talent? Or her heart? No matter what she told herself, she’d enjoyed every minute of being in his company. And it had nothing to do with sexual hunger. They hadn’t so much as brushed hips or fingers, let alone—
“Same time tomorrow?”
She startled at his question, uttered directly beside her.
“Yes.” She hurried a step away from him. If she didn’t, she’d run the risk of pressing her body to his and begging him to kiss her.
He studied her face, an emotion she recognized all too easily burning in his eyes. Desire. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Her pulse turned into cannon fire in her ears.
Kiss him. Kiss—
“I’ll see you then, Si,” he said, his voice low and almost husky, before turning and crossing her studio. He stopped at the door to give her a crooked smile. “You have no idea how hard it is to walk away now.”
Before she could respond, he opened the door and left.
Sucking in a shaky breath, she closed her eyes and scrubbed at her face with her hands. Screwed. She was so totally screwed.
Things didn’t get any better over the next four days.
Four days of James arriving every morning at eleven, smiling and relaxed and hotter than a man had any right being. Every day, he wore a well-cut suit, a tie he loosened on walking into her studio, and his Chuck Taylors.
Every day, she drew various sketches of him. He was an artist’s dream model. His features demanded to be captured in every medium imaginable. She could have lost hours after hours just drawing his lips alone. She spent long minutes drawing his hands and fingers, entranced by the masculine beauty in the way his hand and wrist connected.