“I will pose for your art.”
That stopped him in his tracks as they stood close to the exit. Speculation rose. “How many?”
“A month or two.”
“I meant art pieces.”
“Two.”
“Seven,” he countered. “One for each month that your cousin didn’t send me a muse.”
“Six. Minus one for whatever sordid type of friendship you have going on with him.”
“It’s not friendship,” he mused, then sighed. “And six it is. No time specifications. You can’t rush me on my pieces.”
Impatience flared. “No group paintings like this one.”
Maybe there was a tremble in her voice, some telltale sign. Whatever it was, it had blue eyes narrowing before he tilted his head. “No group paintings until the sixth piece. Then it’s negotiable depending on your comfort level.”
Astonishment blazed, then a grudging acceptance. She shrugged. “All right.”
“Wait.”
She growled low in her throat and swiveled once more.
“What now?”
“Shirt.”
“What?”
Hands took her arms before she could react, yanking them up as he inserted the soft material over her head. A second later, she was engulfed in a shirt too big for her and peering into a face decidedly too close. The hush of her surroundings made her determined not to peek at the Fae. Edmund made it easy, the light smirk demanding attention be only on him…then there were his fingers touching the edge of the shirt sleeves, a connection that caught her breath.
“I don’t want my potential muse getting sick with a cold.”
The man was too arrogant, too confident, and too pleasant. It spelled danger, so she tugged on the shirt until his fingers fell away.
“I won’t.”
“I would come with you, but I promised them that I would finish this tonight.”
A solemn tone came on. She perused him. “What did they promise in return?”
“That they would look the best for this piece and not tell a soul.”
“Spoken?”
“Yes.”
And a Fae’s spoken promise was as good as a bound contract.
“Good.”
He studied her back. Before he could say more, she cut off the chance and jumped to the exit, waiting for his voice to call her back.
But he didn’t and Alexa managed to leave the warehouse with a clear head and a vow to delay it as much as possible.
“I think Archie moved that hairbrush with his eyes.”