Post by Ednah Walters on Jul 11, 2011 1:07:03 GMT -5
Excerpt:
“Ashley Fitzgerald?”
“You’re late,” she said in a cool, impatient voice.
He raised an eyebrow. “I am?”
She thrust a delicate wrist under his nose. Her gold watch caught the overhead light and sparkled. “It’s after nine-thirty. You were due an hour ago.”
Her feminine scent drifted to his nose. Something flowery. Roses? He frowned, annoyed with himself for letting his mind wander.
He cleared his throat, readying himself to explain his present. “I believe you’ve mis—”
“Never mind,” she said, took a step back, and with her other hand clutching a cell phone, gestured him into the loft. “You’re here now. Come in.”
She was obviously mistaking him for someone else. But after the obstacles he’d encountered in the past two weeks, he’d be a fool not to take the advantage of the situation. Being invited inside her home was one step closer to achieving his goal.
“Thank you.” He flashed a grin as he strode into the loft.
“What’s your name?” she asked, closing the door.
“Ron.”
“Make yourself comfortable, Ron.” She waved in the direction of a leather lounge. “I’m on the phone. I’ll be with you in a sec.”
He watched her sashay towards the kitchen, the phone at her ear, and found himself enjoying the way the silk one-piece outfit shifted and flowed around her curves.
Ron tore his gaze away, shook his head to rattle his brain back in place and grimaced. He needed to get a grip, quick. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. Ashley knew a lot, but from the stubborn gleam he’d glimpsed in those eyes, she wasn’t going to roll over and spill her gut just because he asked.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee pulled him farther into the room. He took a deep breath and looked around with interest. The sheer numbers of cloth-draped canvases along the walls combined with the effect of the light pouring inside the loft from large windows were startling. He wished he could see some of the pieces. The ones he’d seen around town, including the two his grandmother owned, were truly magnificent.
A piece on the easel drew his attention. It was facing backward, but something about it pulled him closer. He tilted it for a better look and sucked in his breath.
Carlyle House was unmistakable. Its massive front door was missing, flames leapt from every window and a face…no, a pair of large eyes watched from the smoke billowing over the turrets.
“Excuse me. What do you think you’re doing?”
He let the canvas go, backed away from the painting and shifted his gaze to meet hers. Her hand was on her hip, drawing his attention to its enticing curve, and her hazel eyes smoldered. He’d be damned if he didn’t admit she looked glorious.
“I apologize. I shouldn’t have looked at your work without asking you first.” He waited, his gut tightening with each second that passed. Way to go, Noble. Now she’ll kick you out, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself. He gave her an apologetic smile.
She looked ready to read him the riot act. Then the anger seemed to drain out of her. She leaned against the counter and let out a long breath.
“There’re two things I will not tolerate from a model—tardiness and peeking at my work.” Her voice was firm, but neither rude nor angry. “Dee told me you’ve done this before, so undress there.” She pointed at a partitioned area in the corner. “Since you were late, I’ll just do a few shots. We’ll start with upper torso, so the shirt goes and the pants stay for the moment. If you want to listen to music, I have classical, jazz, rock…whatever you wish. We’ll work there.” With a nod, she indicated the black leather chaise lounge near a window and the easel. “If we have time, I’d like shots of you in briefs. What?”
“Briefs?”
Ashley ignored his incredulous expression. Why had her request for a mature male model been filled with this six-foot mass of male arrogance? Beautiful to look at but trouble to work with. Dee already apologized for the man’s tardiness during their brief telephone conversation, but swore he was a joy to work with. Yeah, right.
“Yes, briefs.” She pushed off the counter and approached him, taking in his sun-kissed skin, which screamed outdoorsman. But the combination of Monet’s cobalt blue eyes and short-cropped hair the color of midnight was more suited for a corporate office with a view. He was a contradiction, and her fingers longed to pick up a paint brush and immortalize him on canvas.
Slowly, she circled him, eyeing his tall, well-built body from every angle, wondering if he was tanned all over. The black T-shirt and blue jeans didn’t do much to hide the lean muscles beneath. She wasn’t into men with facial hair, but the shadowing on his jaw contrasted with his golden skin and gave him a sexy, rakish look. A tattoo of something was partially visible on his upper left arm. Did he have more on his torso? Not that it mattered. She easily imagined him with nothing on but a red, silk sheet draped across his hips. With her paintbrush, she could turn him into every woman’s fantasy. She smiled at her thoughts. But that was for later, now she wanted him in briefs. No boxers or cutoffs. Just briefs. The smaller and tighter the better.
“I hope that’s not going to be a problem because later, I’ll need nude shots.” Her smile deepened. “Lots of them.”
“I have no problem with being nude.” He turned until they were facing each other. A quirky grin played on his sensuous lips. “I just don’t strip for money.”
“But—”
“I’ll do it for free, if I know the lady.” Blue eyes twinkled above arched eyebrows. “I don’t know you…yet.”
She smothered a groan. “Look. Dee told me you were a pro and pros know the rules. No personal remarks or cheap come-ons. And FYI, buddy, I’m not interested in you knowing me, I just want your body.” The corner of his lips lifted and her cheeks warmed. “Uh, I mean I want to use it.”
When he crossed his arms and continued to grin, Ashley sighed. “You know what I mean. Be nice. Take off your shirt.” She needed coffee, now. Maybe she would offer him some later, if he behaved. Right now, she was too bothered even to look at him. Dee was so dead for doing this to her. A professional indeed. He was a menace.
Ashley turned and marched toward the kitchen.
“Who’s Dee?” Ron asked from behind her.
“What?” Ashley stopped and spun around. “Deirdre Packard, the owner of Dee’s Artistic Expressions. Aren’t you the model she sent?”
He smiled. “No. I’m not a male model, but thanks for the compliment.” He moved to stand in front of her, the smile disappearing from his lips and his eyes growing serious. “I’m here to see you about an entirely different matter.