by J. E. Taylor
“Hello?”
The accented greeting melted a fraction of her anger. “Hello, Damon? This is Carolyn Hastings, Olivia’s friend.”
“Ma Bella, I have been waiting for your call. When can I paint you?”
“Are you free tomorrow afternoon?”
“I will clear my calendar for you. Did Livi tell you what I had in mind?”
“Yes, yes she did.”
“Ah, good. What time should I expect you?”
Carolyn glanced at her watch and thought about her day tomorrow. With nothing on her calendar, she considered a morning appointment and ruled it out. She wanted to catch up on some sleep. “Is one okay?”
“That’s perfect my dear.”
Chapter 35
Cool air caressed her naked skin and yet her palms continued to sweat. The only place to wipe them was on the skimpy satin robe hanging on the door hook and Carolyn opted to pass on marring the red sheen. Nerves danced, pricking her skin and she slid the robe over her shoulders, covering what she could with the swatch of fabric.
With one last glance in the dressing mirror, Carolyn surveyed her flushed features. “Relax, it’s not like you’re going to sleep with the guy.” Somehow, talking to herself only made it worse and she turned away from her image in disgust. If Livi can do this, so can I… she thought and opened the door.
She entered his painting studio and stopped. In the center of the room was a gothic four-poster bed, deep mahogany, a contrast to the rumpled white satin sheets. Damon fluffed a pillow and moved a couple of the fabric waves he created just so. He stepped back to look at the masterpiece he was creating, unaware of Carolyn’s presence. She cleared her throat.
He turned, his smile broadening. “Come, come.” He waved her over to the bed, his gaze impatient as she stood next to him making no move to remove the robe. He raised his eyebrows, waiving his hand at her. “The robe?”
Heat filled her face and Carolyn imagined her cheeks now matched the red satin robe she wore. She forced her lips into a smile that felt more awkward than sincere and allowed the robe to drop from her shoulders. With the satin fabric now in her hands, she took a deep breath and handed the skimpy garment to him.
He glanced between her and the bed, tapping his lip with his index finger, debating, his train of thought focused on how he wanted to pose her. His waffling mind bounced between options and ultimately ended back at his first vision. With a nod he met her gaze before he turned and traded the robe for a long rich satin sash. He draped it over her shoulder, wrapping it around her in one graceful twist and then he pointed to the bed. “I would like you in the center of the bed on your side facing the easel. Don’t worry about the sash, I’ll adjust it once I get you positioned,” he said in a manner that reminded her of a short order cook, to the point and absent of any of the dripping charm he used to get her in the door. All business, which helped her relax enough to climb on the bed, although it did nothing to quell her discomfort of being naked in front of a stranger.
Carolyn lay on her side with her head propped on her hand. She didn’t know what to do with her other hand and kept moving it trying to obtain the look of casual comfort but from Damon’s expression, she missed it by a mile.
“That won’t do.” He climbed on the side of the bed, kneeling, towering over her as he considered what pose he best wanted to capture. “Roll on your back.”
Carolyn rolled on her back, his close proximity, his magnetism, his sexiness, radiated in waves despite the calculated thoughts on pose and lighting and overall vision. The blood vessels in her skin reacted, creating a hot tingling sensation.
“Relax for me,” he said, his voice returning to that low, smooth timber, like a rich dark chocolate dessert, decadent and sinful but so worth the taste. When he touched her, positioning her arm over her head, in a graceful arch that left her fingers grazing her temple, she understood Olivia’s infatuation. He positioned her other arm so it rested on her abdomen, tilting her head slightly toward the easel. He pulled her right leg toward the easel, bending it and resting her foot on her outstretched leg, creating a graceful arch in her side. Offering her a slight smile as their eyes met, he reached for the sash, scanning her as he considered how he wanted to use the rich red fabric to contrast the bland whiteness of the bedspread and her winter-faded tan. He spread the fabric over her, swirling it in a zig-zag that covered her chest, rolled over to her back and curled around her legs, creating a vision of sensuality he strived for.
Carolyn breathed through her mouth, her eyes never leaving his intense face, and trying not to move a muscle as his hands grazed her most private areas in an attempt to smooth out the red satin sash. Rapture. The word popped into her head so loud and clear, she almost flinched. That was what he called it in his head as he stepped away, fixing the bedspread.
Rapture.
That was the title for this piece.
“Don’t move a muscle, especially in your face. That is the expression I want.” He trotted across the room and pulled out his camera, taking a few shots at the same angle of his easel.
She knew those pictures would be used for completing the painting, but when he paused, looking over the lens directly at her, there was something else. Something she couldn’t quite read, then it was gone as the camera came back up, blocking his eyes.
He stepped behind the easel bringing the brush to the paper. The soft sounds of the bristles filled the room as he sketched, outlining, formulating the portrait, his eyes bouncing between the bed and his rendition of her on paper. A hint of a smile formed on his lips as the brush stroked the canvas.
Carolyn lay perfectly still, perfectly posed, his eyes shimmering each time they raised to meet hers and the connection created heat that sizzled over her skin. His dark Mediterranean skin, curly black hair and eyes like the green Mediterranean itself, all as mesmerizing as the sounds of the brush swiping the canvas. Oh, Livi, I so understand what you were talking about now. She didn’t know a man could make love to a woman with his eyes, but that was exactly what Damon was doing and it was intoxicating.
I’m not sure Randy will understand this.
Her eyebrows knit together at the thought.
Damon stopped, glancing around the easel at her, a frown wiping away his smile. “Is everything okay?”
Carolyn offered a smile in response. “Yes, I’m just getting a little stiff.”
Damon glanced at his watch and then the easel before returning his gaze to her. “Would you like a drink?”
Carolyn nodded. “That would be wonderful.” Her thoughts drifted to the sweet tea he offered her and Olivia the last time they were there and her mouth reacted, salivating.
When he returned, he had a tray with a pitcher of the sweet iced tea along with sliced cheese and crackers. Carolyn sat up, wrapping the sash around her, hiding her privates from view. He set the tray on the table and poured two glasses, handing her one and taking a sip from the second.
“I thought you might enjoy a snack as well.”
“That’s very kind of you,” she said, taking one of the cheese slices and a couple of crackers before she drank the cool tea.
Damon sat on the edge of the bed, his brow knit and his lips pressed together in thought. Carolyn received some swirl of thought centered around the exhibit but then his mind seemed to switch off, like someone unplugged her ability to read minds.
“I have a proposal for you,” he said, turning his intense gaze in her direction.
She flushed, feeling heat from her cheeks to her ankles and the cool air stroking her skin in a manner that made her wish for her clothing. “What kind of proposal?” she asked and pulled the sash tighter.
“Olivia is my main masterpiece, however, I would like you to be one of my highlights as well.”
“Oh,” Carolyn blinked and her muscles relaxed from the initial tension his question originally prompted. “I don’t mind you using the portrait at your show.”
He smiled and shifted. “I don’t think you understa
nd the question. I want to paint you.” He waved his hand over the length of her body. “I paint live models as well as canvas and I’d like you in my show.”
She stared at him, not quite understanding. “Paint me?”
“Yes,” Damon said and stood, crossing and picking up a photo album. “It’s a unique experience to include live art with two dimensional art.”
Carolyn flipped through the album, looking at the painted models and her jaw dropped at the stunning beauty he created on their skin. “You paint on their skin?”
“No, no, I have my models wear a full nude color body suit to protect their skin. It takes me a few hours to paint each model. I also utilize some of the more promising students in the art classes I teach to help with the live models. But you, you and Olivia will be my masterpieces.”
“I don’t know…”
“Please Bella, you are perfect for my vision of original sin.”
“Excuse me?”
He took the photo album from her and flipped to the last two pages. Two glorious angels were sketched on the paper. One in flowing white, the other sitting on a tree limb in flowing scarlet with wings that looked like flames and an apple sitting in her hand. He tapped the portrait in red. “This is my vision for you.”
Carolyn stared at the rendition. “You can do that in a couple of hours?”
“Finishing touches are done the day of the show. I have the base details already painted on the body suits.” He stood and crossed, bringing her the bathrobe. “Come, I’ll show you.”
Curiosity got the best of her and she slid the bathrobe on, following Damon out of the small studio room into a larger room decorated with a dozen mannequins dressed in various stages of painted outfits.
“You’re a size three, correct?”
“Yes,” she whispered. Awe tingled up her spine, blooming through her as she walked among the art. The back of each outfit held a zipper, allowing the models to easily slip on the suits before they were completed. She stopped in front of the red angel outfit and her breath drew in at the intricate details. “It’s beautiful.”
“Will you wear it for me?”
“I don’t know, Damon. I’m not a professional model.”
“I’m aware of that. However, this particular exhibit requires the model to be seated. I would never dream of putting an amateur in a standing position for the duration of the art show.”
“How long are you talking about?” Carolyn asked without taking her eyes off the outfit.
“The exhibit lasts a couple of hours and then we release the models from their positions so they can mingle with the guests for the remainder of the evening.”
“Mingle with the outfits on?”
“Of course.”
The entire idea intrigued Carolyn and she turned, meeting Damon’s gaze. “What happened to the original model?”
Damon studied her and then shifted his gaze to the outfit. “She died recently.”
Carolyn bit her lip at the roughness in his tone. Pain filtered into his eyes when he glanced her way and he offered the slightest of shrugs that left her feeling like she missed something significant. “You cared about her?”
“Yes,” he said and turned, leaving Carolyn alone in the mannequin filled room. She surveyed the exquisite designs once more and followed him back to the cozy studio, shutting the door behind her.
“Are you ready to continue?” he asked, pointing toward the bed.
Carolyn looked at her wrist and then rubbed the empty space where her watch had been. She offered a short laugh and looked at the bed and then out the window beyond Damon. Twilight had long since settled over the city and she gulped, swallowing the shards of shock before glancing at Damon. “What time is it?”
“Six-thirty,” he said with a quick glance at his watch.
“Oh, shit!” Her heart lurched in her chest and she turned and bolted into the changing room, dressing in record time. When she pulled the door open, Damon was poised on the other side, his knuckles ready to rap on the wood.
“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling his hand away.
“Yes, no, well, I’m late and my boyfriend is going to blow a gasket.”
Damon glanced at the easel and back to her. “Can you come back in the morning so we can finish?”
“Um…” Carolyn mentally scanned her calendar and offered a nod. “What time?”
“Nine?”
“Sure.”
“And you’ll have an answer for me regarding the show?”
His eyebrows lifted in a hopeful question which made him all the more enticing and Carolyn couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, I’ll have an answer for you then.”
A smile appeared along with a nod. “Let me catch you a cab,” he said, stepping out on the busy sidewalk with her.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“With everything going on in the city lately, yes I do.” His eyes glimmered again and the smile revealed white perfect teeth that now took on a particularly predatory look, not the heat-seeking missile they had been when she first walked into the studio this afternoon.
Carolyn started to say no, but nodded instead, squashing the ridiculous urge to flee.
Chapter 36
Randy paced with the phone to his ear and his chest a pounding jumble of nerves. The door squeaked and he spun in the direction of the noise. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of Carolyn and relief poured into his flesh, making his muscles relinquish their tight knots all at once and he closed the phone. The rush was short lived and anger filled the void. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get you on your cell phone for the past hour.”
“My phone died.” Carolyn opened her purse and pulled out her cell phone, holding the black screen in his direction before dropping the useless technology on the table. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
Calm settled, brushing the tingling anger from his skin. At least she’s safe. “Where were you?” he asked. A blush crept in her cheeks and she planted a coy smile on her lips, the kind that usually drove him wild, but it only fanned the coals in his belly, leaving an unsettling taste in his mouth.
“Posing for your painting.”
He was not prepared for that answer and he raised his eyebrows with a mixture of intrigue and underlying unease. “Really?” The painting conversation flooded his memory. “And exactly what will you be wearing in my painting?” He allowed a smile to play on his lips, not entirely sure of what his reaction should be, but not expecting either the sudden fear that played under his skin or the absolute knowledge that it wasn’t much.
“A red sash.”
Randy kept his poker face, but under the neutral expression a dangerous cocktail brewed. Jealousy and fear. He couldn’t pinpoint what he was afraid of, so he focused on the jealousy. “You were naked in an artist’s studio?”
Carolyn’s reaction didn’t help. She shrugged it off like it was an everyday occurrence. “I did have a sash covering me where it counted.” She was trying to be coy, he got that, but it still burned him that she voluntarily took her clothes off in the presence of a… a what? “Who’s the artist?”
“Damon Andropolis.”
In the presence of a man. There’s my fucking answer. She was naked and alone with another man. Now he was pissed. Randy spun around and headed into the kitchen without another word, the jealousy transitioning nicely into anger.
“Randy?”
He turned toward her questioning voice, finding her lovely blue eyes begging for him to let it go, but he couldn’t. “Were you in charge of the placement of the sash?”
Her mouth popped open in what looked like a rebuttal then snapped closed and she shook her head. “No, he adjusted it the way he wanted it on the canvas.”
There was no explaining the burning in the pit of his stomach, like she was extremely lucky to be standing in their apartment right now, like she narrowly missed being carved into little pieces, a certainty which left him physically shaking. Jealousy didn’t cover this,
this was something different.
The expression on her face changed, her eyebrows knit together and she stepped toward him, reaching for him. “What are you afraid of?”
She was reading him again and he swatted her hand away. “Don’t. Not right now, Carolyn. Just don’t.” His hands were up in the air in front of him, fingers spread wide, pushing against air yet holding her at bay. He shot past her into the bedroom, ripping his tie off and tossing it on the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring out at the breathtaking view of the harbor, blinded by the glimmering lights playing off the water.
The first time he met her was at the bar over at the seaport, her laugh carrying across the crowd, gaining his attention. Randy had left his group and crossed to her table, interrupting what looked like a date.
“I couldn’t help notice you,” he said, ignoring the blatant glare of the man across the table from her.
The smile she flashed at him clinched it. He knew she was the woman he was meant to be with for the rest of his life. The. One. Overwhelmed by the sudden wave of certainty, he almost lost his nerve. Instead, he swallowed hard and went for it. “Go to dinner with me tonight.”
She looked down at the plate in front of her, the full meal spread out on the table and then over at her date before returning his gaze…
Her hand touched his shoulder, bringing him back to the present. He turned to the woman who took him up on that wildly inappropriate offer wondering if he was the one who was going to get shafted this time.
“Randy?” Carolyn sat on the bed next to him.
He looked back at the harbor. “What am I afraid of? God damn good question.” He turned toward her, taking her in and choosing his words carefully. “I’m afraid I’m going to be the one to ID your body. And I’m pissed you were naked and alone with another man. Even if it was for artistic purposes.” He made finger quotes when he said artistic purposes.