Her jaw hung open.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
It was a no. Her mouth snapped closed.
“Are youinterestedin doing some nude modeling?”
She backed away. Forget the clothes, she should probably make another fast getaway.
“I’ll also take that as a no,” he said. “Pity. I bet your body is perfection beneath that hideous dress. By the way, tell me you didn’t pick it out.”
Jacqueline kept inching back. “Look, if you have some kind of fetish, I am not your girl.”
Remy didn’t rise from his seat. He did put down his coffee mug and lock his dark and intense gaze on her. “You are most definitely mine.”
Goose bumps rose on her arms.
“My muse,” he continued carefully. “I’m sure you noticed that I’m an artist.”
“Hard to miss all the paint.” And canvases.
“I’d been going through a bit of a dry spell, then you fell into my life. So to speak.” His words were so easy and casual, an exact match for his expression, but Jacqueline could have sworn that a thread of tension hummed beneath that light surface. “I saw you and felt inspired.”
“I’m not sure what that means.” She’d inched so far away that her back hit the counter.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me.” He rose but didn’t approach her. Just stood there, all towering and tall. Remy had to clock in at a few inches over six feet, and he was solid muscle. She knew, she wouldn’t be forgetting the sight of his bare chest anytime soon. “Hurting women isn’t a hobby I have.”
“That shouldn’t be a hobby anyone has.”
“Agreed.” His head dipped toward her. “I want to paint you, Jacqueline.”
For clarification, she noted, “You want to paint me…naked.”
“Nude.” His lips twitched. “And, yes, that would be nice, but since you seem a bit…prudish…about the situation, feel free to keep your clothes on for the process.”
Her chin jerked up. “It’s not prudish to be uncomfortable getting naked in front of a stranger. That’s totally normal behavior.”
His broad shoulders rolled back. “If you say so, but I’ve never had a problem getting naked.”
Of course, he hadn’t. “Who are you?”
“Told you my name before. It’s Remy.”
Yes, she knew that. What Jacqueline had meant was—
“Part-time artist. Part-time hero. At your service.”
He kept disarming her. “Remy,” she tasted his name and liked it. She’d actually known a Remy or two in her day. “Are you, by any chance, from New Orleans?” She probably shouldn’t have asked but… “Popular name there,” she added quickly. “You know, because it has a French origin and so many people in New Orleans are…” She stopped.
His brows wiggled. “You’re an expert on names?”
“No. I remember random facts. I-I read that some place. I do a lot of reading.”
“Do you now?”
Hadn’t she just said as much? Besides, she owned a small bookstore. Reading went with the territory. As long as she could remember, she’d always loved escaping into books.
“Not from New Orleans,” Remy added as he continued to stand by the table. “Remy is a nickname.”