Captured In Ink (Art of Love Series)

by McDonald, Donna

  “Damn it. I’m late now,” he said. “See you all later.”

  Running, he slammed the door behind him, and a minute later the motorcycle roared to life and off.

  “Where’s Shane going in such a hurry?” Brooke asked.

  “Hot date,” Michael said snidely, topping off his coffee. “Little mamma can’t date normally. He can only see her in the mornings.”

  Carrie smacked his arm. “Why can’t you even try to understand? He’s in love with her, Michael. Reesa is a perfectly wonderful person with unfortunate circumstances. How many people have a perfect life anyway?”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I like her too,” Michael admitted. “I’m just—worried about Shane I guess.”

  “We all have our journeys,” Jessica said. “Shane is obviously on his.”

  “Well I want to be next,” Brooke said fiercely. “All these family love vibes are driving me crazy. I want my own special guy now, or I’m going to have to start trolling bars and picking up men.”

  Jessica reached over and patted her hand. “I have a feeling it won’t be long. You’ve had that plan of yours in your head so long, the universe is bound to start delivering on it soon. So, Carrie, how soon will you be ready to go?”

  Carrie shrugged. “I’m awake now. I’ll grab a yogurt bar from the freezer for breakfast and I’m ready when you are.”

  “I’m going to try to finish the welds while you’re gone,” Michael said.

  “Okay,” Carrie said, hugging him. “We’re just window shopping today. If I like it, we’ll go back so you can take a look.”

  “Whatever suits you will suit me,” Michael said. “I’m going to see that you have five pieces when you open.”

  Carrie hugged him tightly again and kissed him soundly. Knowing he had such faith in her was a gift her husband gave her every day.

  “I think this is going to be more than just window shopping,” Jessica said. “You should see how perfect this place is. I don’t think chances like this happen often.”

  Brooke smiled. “Want me to see if Dr. Barrymore can meet us there? He’s actually the one that recommended it to me.”

  “Great idea. You have his number?” Jessica asked.

  “I know more about the man than his own mother does,” Brooke joked, rolling through the previously dialed numbers in her phone. “I did an Internet search on him right after I got the email back from him. His paintings are very good—if you’re into nudes.”

  “Nudes?” Jessica said. “Sounds fun. Is he single?”

  “Yes, but he’s old, Mom. He’s forty-two and divorced,” Brooke told her. “That’s way out of my range, though I have to admit his school website picture was very attractive. He’s got long hair like Michael’s, just with more gray.”

  “You and your forty is old attitude,” Jessica said, shaking her head. “Forty is not old. One day that ageist mentality is going to bite you on the butt, girl.”

  “Well speaking of that, I didn’t say I wouldn’t let him bite me on the butt if the offer ever was extended. I just think he’s too old for a real relationship,” Brooke said, laughing.

  “Sometimes I wish I had set a better example for you,” Jessica said, patting her daughter’s hand. “But most of the time, I’m just proud.”

  “Okay, I’m starting to get excited now. Coffee is working. Let’s go,” Carrie said.

  Chapter 7

  Reesa laid her head on the kitchen table next to her half drank, rapidly cooling coffee. Sara had cried for almost two hours last night, but had climbed out of bed this morning chattering about shoes like nothing had happened at all. It was always Reesa that paid the biggest price for the midnight crying jags when the little girl missed her mother and father. It was always Reesa who wanted to cry all the next day.

  The doorbell ringing madly made her sigh and raise her head tiredly.

  She could just ignore it. She probably ought to go back to bed for an hour or two, grab a nap before tackling the chores today. Laundry had accumulated again and she needed to shop for a new backpack for Brian. Then there was Sara’s dance recital costume fitting this afternoon.

  The doorbell rang again, interrupting her mental list.

  “I’m coming,” she yelled, trudging to the door in her sweats and tank top.

  Reesa yanked open the door to see Shane standing on her doorstep. She closed her eyes, so not up to dealing with him today.

  “Shane—this is not a good day. It’s even worse than yesterday. I was just on my way back to bed,” Reesa told him. “Sara had a bad night, though you’d never know it by the way she ran off to school this morning.”

  Shane pulled open the thin screen door between them and put his arms around Reesa for a hug. “You look like hell, baby.”

  “Thank you for the flowery compliments. Now go home, Shane,” she said. “I don’t have time to play.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, moving past her to drop his helmet and jacket on a chair. “Were you seriously going back to bed?”

  “I always say what I mean,” Reesa said, giving him as stern as look as she could manage.

  “Fine,” he said, shelving his original intention of seducing her. “Let me tuck you in and I’ll hit the road.”

  “That’s not a good idea and you know it,” Reesa said. “I have like zero resistance right now, but I wouldn’t even get to enjoy it as tired as I am.”

  “Well, I’m a tad more in control of myself than you give me credit for and I want to comfort you. I can feel your stress without even touching you,” Shane said. “Can I carry you?”

  “No—why would you carry me?” she said, wrinkling her forehead in confusion. “I can walk just fine.”

  “Silly, Reesa,” Shane said, coming over and scooping her up while she protested. “Shush, I want to feel useful to you. Which room?”

  “Last one on the right down the hall,” she said, giving up and laying her head on his shoulder.

  Shane was carrying her like she carried Sara. It was not a great moment of pride for her. If he thought the gesture was romantic, it was lost on her this morning.

  “Holy shit—that’s a freaking giant bed,” Shane said, looking at it. “Is it custom?”

  “No, just a California king with a big wooden frame. I bought new sheets when—never mind. It’s a normal bed. Put me down Shane,” Reesa ordered.

  Shane carried her to the bed, put one knee on it and laid her down with her head on the pillows. He deftly flipped the covers over her and tucked them down the side of her. Despite her tired, sour mood, his actions had her laughing. “Where in the world did you learn to tuck people in?”

  “Mom first—then I studied it in school. It has the effect of communicating security. You looked like you needed to be tucked in securely,” he told her. “Do you care if I lay down beside you for a minute and just talk? I promise I’ll stay outside the covers so we won’t be tempted.”

  Reesa snorted. “You could dance naked with an erection the size of these bedposts and I wouldn’t be tempted this morning.”

  “I don’t think we’ll test that theory. I am a guy after all,” Shane said, making her laugh again.

  Experimentally, he put his hand on her tummy and rubbed. When her legs stretched out, he ran his hand down one thigh and heard her groan. He could feel her tight muscles. “You’re holding a ton of tension in your body.”

  “I know,” Reesa said, groaning gratefully when his hand moved to the other leg. “That feels really good. You have great hands and a pleasant bedside manner Dr. Larson, but it’s hard to sleep with you beside me.”

  “I’m leaving soon. I just want to know you’re okay,” Shane told her, amazed to find it was true. He wanted her, could feel himself growing hard for her as he touched her, but over that was a need to relieve her tension and just make her feel better.

  “How often does this happen—the Sara thing?” he asked, clarifying what he wanted to know. He rubbed one leg and then the other, softening his strokes as he f
elt her relax a little more.

  “I guess a couple times a week now. It used to be more. I tell myself she’s getting better,” Reesa said, the words floating a little in her brain.

  “I’m sure she’s getting better,” Shane said, try to validate all the love and caring she gave. “You’re doing a great job with the kids, Reesa. Keep trusting your instincts.”

  “My instincts aren’t working about you,” Reesa said sadly, letting her head roll to the side as Shane brought his hand back to her tummy and rubbed. “I want to send you away, but then I can’t. I don’t even know why. I’m a weak, wimpy woman.”

  Shane laughed and brought a hand to her hair, stroking it back from her face. “You are definitely not a wimp or weak, but you are a woman—a very hot woman—a fact I am grateful for every time I see you. I’m looking forward to making you grateful too.”

  “Yeah—I’m just the hottest thing that ever walked. That’s me—Teresa Callahan, the five foot hottie.” Her words fell off, and Reesa felt the darkness fall as Shane’s hand continued to stroke her.

  Long after she had ceased moving and talking, Shane lay beside her, stroking back her hair. “You are definitely a hot woman,” he told her completely quiet form, bending to kiss the corner of her mouth. She turned in her sleep and slid her lips under his. Instead of deepening the contact, Shane reluctantly lifted his head from her mouth and sighed.

  “And you know I’m here, even in your sleep. I don’t know how the dweeb ever gave you up.”

  Shane kissed Reesa’s forehead and made himself climb off the bed before he became any more tempted to take her mouth for real. He wanted nothing more than to start the process of making her want him inside her again. The power to do it was there, calling to him to forget his noble intentions, but he fought it back.

  She needed rest right now more than she needed him.

  He walked back to the living room and picked up his helmet, and then he set it back down. Regardless of his diminishing chances on spending any one-on-one time with Reesa, he still didn’t want to leave and go back to his empty apartment.

  He didn’t understand it completely yet, but it was pretty much that simple. He wanted to be here when Reesa woke up even if all he did was get to say good-bye before she had to run errands.

  Looking around the living room as he tried to decide what to do, Shane saw a box of printer paper under a desk. He went over to it and pulled some sheets from the open ream. Taking them to the kitchen table, he sat and pulled out his drawing pen that he always carried with him.

  A half hour later, he poured himself a cup of coffee and went back to drawing.

  He knew a couple more hours had passed when he heard a horn blow outside in the driveway. Sara is home, he thought, remembering the routine from yesterday.

  Shane walked to the door and held it open for her. When she saw him, she squealed in surprise and ran to the house. He waved as nonchalantly as he could to the school bus driver as she drove off.

  “What are you doing here?” Sara asked. “You were just here yesterday.”

  “Yes, I was. Your Aunt Teresa was very tired today, so I came to help her. She’s still sleeping so let’s be really quiet okay?” Shane suggested.

  Sara nodded. “Are you making me lunch?”

  “Yes—I think I can do that. What do you usually eat?” he asked.

  “Neenut utter and jelly,” she said.

  “Peanut butter and jelly?” Shane asked, repeating the words correctly.

  “That’s what I said,” Sara told him. “Weren’t you listening?”

  “Sorry,” Shane said, not sure what he was apologizing for, even when Sara smiled nicely at his regret.

  Then it occurred to him that maybe Sara was mispronouncing on purpose. The little monkey wanted everyone’s constant attention and had some very charming ways of getting it. It was going to be bad for future men in her life if she found out the true power of that ability.

  “Let’s go to the kitchen,” Shane told her. “I’ve been working in there. You can keep me company while I make lunch.”

  “Okay. Do you cook?” Sara asked.

  “Not really,” Shane asked honestly. “But I can handle neenut utter and jelly.”

  Sara laughed. “You’re not saying it right.”

  “What?” Shane asked, feigning surprise.

  “Neenut utter and jelly,” Sara corrected.

  “That’s what I said,” Shane told her, frowning. “Weren’t you listening?”

  “Shaney—you are not that funny,” she said.

  “Right. I think I’m losing my touch. Blondes used to like me better,” Shane told her, lifting her into a chair at the table. “Want me to teach you to draw?”

  “YES!” Sara said. “I would like that very much.”

  “Okay. Let me make us lunch first,” Shane told her.

  ***

  Reesa woke to a brightly lit room and wondered where she was. She rolled her head to the side and saw the clock read twelve fifteen. Sitting up quickly, she realized she’d missed Sara coming home, but—she could hear Sara talking. Who is with her? she thought.

  She ducked into the bathroom, took care of things and washed her face before going to investigate. In the kitchen, she saw two blonde heads bent over many sheets of paper spread out on the table.

  “Hi,” she said, coming into the kitchen, still dressed in her sweats and tank top.

  “Aunt Teresa, I’m drawing,” Sara said, lifting her head briefly and then going back to what she was doing.

  “I see that,” Reesa said, feeling Shane’s caressing gaze taking in her appearance.

  “Hi,” Shane said, smiling. “You look much better.”

  Reesa nodded. “You two look awfully busy. I didn’t expect you to stay, Shane.”

  Shane shrugged, meeting her direct gaze with his. “I stole some paper and started drawing. I actually got quite a bit done. Thought I might hang around to see what kind of plans you had.”

  “I have a ton of errands to run this afternoon,” Reesa said, sighing and letting her gaze go flat. “Tomorrow morning I have to go to—”

  Her gaze darted to Sara’s head bent over her drawing.

  “I have a hearing at nine-thirty tomorrow morning. Thursday morning I have to meet with Brian’s counselor. I won’t have another free day until next week,” Reesa said, sounding disappointed when she had been meaning to sound unapologetic.

  When Shane’s gaze softened on her, she had an urge to cry. Fighting that, she turned her back and saw the remnants of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on plates on the counter.

  He’d made lunch for Sara. She turned back to him. “If I’d known you were making lunch, I’d have had you make me a sandwich too. Peanut butter and jelly is my favorite.”

  Shane’s face creased with a smile. “I make a mean sandwich. I can fix one for you now if you want.”

  Reesa shook her head. “No—I think I’ll make a grilled cheese instead. How do you feel about grilled cheese sandwiches? Maybe I could toss in some tomato soup too.”

  “Sounds good to me. I had a sandwich with Sara, but I could eat again. Neenut utter and jelly just doesn’t do it for me,” Shane said, laughing when Sara looked up at him frowning.

  “It’s peanut butter and jelly, Shaney,” Sara said loudly.

  “Sorry—my bad. Did I mispronounce it again?” Shane asked her.

  “Yes. I told you that is not funny,” Sara said, going back to her drawing.

  Reesa raised one eyebrow at Shane. What she wouldn’t have given to have heard the whole conversation. Sara definitely knew how to pronounce the words. She just had a habit of choosing not to do so. The grief counselor had said it was a form of intentional regression.

  Reesa turned back to counter and stove, and made a couple sandwiches.

  When she brought Shane’s to the table, she sucked in her breath and looked in complete awe at the mass of drawings laid out in sequence.

  “Wow. You really are an artist,” Reesa
said. “Is that the next novel? Hey—that looks like me.” She pointed to the woman in several of the panels.

  Shane watched expressions of wonder, embarrassment, and something he couldn’t quite name flitter through her gaze on his work.

  “It is you. I gave the heroine your face after our first—date,” he said finally, hoping she wasn’t upset.

  “You made me a superhero?” Reesa asked, laughing. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “No—you already were a superhero. I just didn’t know it then—well, I guess I must have on some level. Want to see the first picture I ever drew of you?” Shane asked, reaching into his back pocket to pull out the folded picture he kept there.

  Reesa couldn’t even nod. What could she say? She was overwhelmed that Shane had drawn her image at all. She certainly didn’t know what to think about it.

  “I need to get ready. Sara has a costume fitting for her dance recital and we’ll need to leave soon. I think I’ll just take my sandwich back to eat while I’m getting dressed,” Reesa said, turning away to flee the kitchen and his gaze on her.

  Shane slid the still folded paper back into this pocket and wondered how much longer Reesa was going to run from what was between them.

  ***

  Drake Barrymore was practically jogging down the street as he checked the watch he forced himself to wear. He sighed at how late he was running for the appointment. Fortunately, he was in good enough shape that he wasn’t yet breathing hard from his concrete jog. His ponytail swung a bit with his long strides, but not enough to annoy him. He knew he needed to cut it, but it reminded him of happier times in his life. It was the only thing that still did.

  Drake checked his watch again and picked up his pace a little more.

  He hoped he hadn’t missed Dr. Daniels and her group. It would be a real boost to his department if they could offer senior art majors a place to show and sell their work, not to mention his own. Hard to find time to market yourself when you were teaching a full load every semester and functioning as chair—damn the cutbacks anyway.

  He rounded the corner and saw the door still open. Relieved, he rushed in and up to the tall red-head standing in the middle of the room. She looked just like her picture, except for the strands of gray in her hair. Drake would guess the woman was more like his age despite the Internet picture looking much younger.