"Everett, it's not really… I thought maybe I'd—"
"I want it," he said, turning his head to meet her gaze. "Does it have a name?"
A blush surged into her cheeks, confirming his thoughts as to the models.
"The M-morning After."
Once again he nodded. She had a gift for naming her works. One that carried with it the very emotions painted for the world to see. This moment of tenderness and warmth, seduction and desire. Their morning after—not the one in Vegas when she'd disappeared.
"You can h-have it," Isabel murmured. "If you'd like. Consider it a Christmas gift. It's not like I'd know what to get you otherwise."
He left the painting and closed the distance between them, tugging her gently into his arms and then framing her face with his hands. "It's all I want—and you."
The air stilled and became charged with electricity. They both knew her time in New York was coming to an end unless she chose to stay. Unless he did something, said something, to convince her to take the chance fate had given them by crossing the threshold of that chapel door.
Everett lowered his head, kissed her with every ounce of the pent-up frustration he felt that the days were passing so quickly. Then he lifted her up and carried her to the nearby sofa.
Isabel foughtthe urge to hurl due to nerves and followed the young restaurant host to the table where the gallery curator waited.
"Ms. Shipley," the woman said, smiling.
Isabel held out her hand in greeting. "Isabel, please."
"And you can call me Margo," the older woman said, waving a hand at the chair opposite her. Isabel took a moment to remove her coat and set it in the seat beside her before settling in herself. "Thank you for meeting with me."
"It's my pleasure. When I saw your work, I knew we'd be a good fit. Your paintings have the relaxed feel and sensuality we’re going for right now. That's a huge draw for me.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean it. Your work has a modern look, yet avibrancy," the woman exclaimed. "It's like stepping into a book or a movie scene. You capture the moments and make them come to life."
The words left her speechless. "I-I don’t know what to say. Thank you. That's quite the compliment."
"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true," Margo said.
"May I get your drink order?"
Isabel looked up at the waitress and smiled. "Just coffee for me, thanks."
"No cocktail?" Margo asked Isabel. "I'd hoped we'd be celebrating."
Isabel laughed and shook her head. "It's best I keep a clear head."
"I understand. No doubt you’ll leave here and get back to work.”
“Yes. That’s the plan.”
“Well, don’t discount refilling the creative well. There's lots to do in this beautiful city. I hope you’re exploring it."
“I am. Trust me.” Isabel looked up and accepted the coffee from the fast-moving waitress. After doctoring it with sugar and cream, she lifted it for a long sip.
"Before I start, do you happen to have any other work to show me?"
"Oh, yes." Izzy pulled out her iPad and swiped a finger over the screen. She'd taken careful photos of her latest work this morning and hoped they were as impactful on the gallery curator as they seemingly had been on Everett.
While Margo studied the images, Izzy's thoughts returned to the man at the penthouse waiting for her call.
They'd shared yet another wonderful night together, and she knew she was losing her resolve when it came to Everett. It was becoming harder and harder to remember all the reasons why they shouldn’t be together. Especially when he was the complete package.