When she returned half an hour later with muffins and bagels, he was still asleep. Should she wake him? It was already eight o’clock, but some people considered it early for a Saturday.
She didn’t want him oversleeping and being annoyed that he’d missed out on painting time, so she sat on the edge of the bed and said quietly, “Evan, breakfast is ready.”
There was no response.
Louder this time, she said, “Evan, it’s time to wake up.” She ran a hand down his arm.
“Don’t want to,” came the sleepy reply.
Carly grinned. He sounded like a petulant child. “I’ve got bagels and muffins.”
“Hmph.”
Carefully she leaned over and brushed a kiss across his cheek and then over his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want to wake up?”
His eyes flashed open as she sat back. He blinked a couple of times. “Carly?”
She nodded. “I’ve bought breakfast. I didn’t know how late you wanted to sleep.”
He examined her for a moment. “Your hair is different.”
Self-conscious, she placed a hand on the hat covering her curly hair. “I didn’t want to wake you drying it.”
He pushed himself up to a seated position. “It’s curly.”
“That’s what it tends to do when it gets wet.”
“Show me.”
Hesitating, she lifted the hat from her head. Evan motioned her closer.
She shuffled nearer to him and he ran his hand through her hair. “It’s gorgeous. Why do you always straighten it?”
“I was told it looks more professional. It’s so hard to manage when it’s curly, it goes its own way.”
“Whoever told you that was an idiot,” Evan said. “You look powerful, untamed, exotic.”
Her skin heated. “It was my stylist. She taught me how a business executive needs to dress.”
He shook his head. “She didn’t know what she was talking about. I love your hair like that. When I paint you, I want to paint that hair.”
Carly blinked. “You want to paint me?”
“Absolutely. I want to paint you in all sorts of ways.” He grinned. “And not in the slightly creepy way that sounded.”
She laughed. “We’ll see.” She wasn’t sure what she thought about him painting her. He saw too much. She didn’t want others to see her the way he saw her. It would make her too vulnerable. “Do you want breakfast now?”
“As long as it comes with coffee.”
“Of course.”
She left him to dress and went back to the kitchen to make the coffee. A few minutes later, he came out, wearing shorts and T-shirt.
“You know it’s only early, right?” he said as he took the coffee she handed him and kissed her.
“Eight o’clock is late for me.”
“It’s the weekend.”
“My body clock’s set for five no matter the day. I slept in today by comparison.”
Evan shook his head in disbelief. “Nine’s my usual wake up time.”
She didn’t know how he got anything done by waking up so late. “So what are you doing today?”
“I want to continue work on a couple of paintings for the exhibition. What about you?”
“I’ve got a few things I need to work on.”
He put down his bagel. “Working seven days a week isn’t good for you, Carly.”
She shrugged. “This is stuff I want to do.”
“Really? Like what?”
She hadn’t told anyone else about the app she was developing. It was her little secret. “I’m creating an app.”
“To do what?”
She hesitated. “Teach people English.”
“Wow. That sounds challenging. How’s it going?”
“Slowly. I don’t get much time to work on it.”
“I’m a big believer in making time for the things you love to do.”
She nodded. “It’s why I get up so early. I get to do an hour every day before work.”
He shook his head. “You’re amazing.”
She shrugged. She did what she had to do, that was all.
“Do you want to come to my place?” he said. “We could hang out today, each doing our own thing, and you could stay the night. Then we can go to your mom’s tomorrow for the party.”
The idea was appealing. She didn’t need more than her laptop to do her work. Plus the thought that Evan wanted to spend more time with her was thrilling.
“Sure.”
***
Evan wasn’t entirely certain why he’d invited Carly to join him at his house. Normally when he painted he preferred solitude. That way he could get caught up in the work. He didn’t have to stop at a given time, or worry about the other person feeling neglected. But the invite had slipped out, and he did want to spend more time with her.
They drove separately to his place so that Carly could drive home. When he arrived, McClane trotted out to greet him. Zita must have already dropped him off. He hurried inside to check the state of his house. He’d been in painting mode up until he left and it could be a complete pigsty, for all he remembered.
He shoved dishes into the dishwasher, quickly changed his bedsheets and tidied the living room. As he was checking what else needed to be done, Carly arrived.
McClane trotted to the front door to greet her, wagging his tail furiously, which was about as animated as he got these days.
“He’s definitely taken a shine to you,” Evan said.
Carly smiled. “I’ve never been very good around dogs.” She crouched down to rub McClane’s head. “But you’re just the sweetest thing, aren’t you?”
McClane panted happily in agreement, then licked her.
She got back to her feet. “Where are you going to work?”
“In the studio. I’m halfway through a couple of pieces.”
“A couple of pieces?”
“Yeah. I tend to have a few works going at once, depending on my mood.” He walked down the hallway and she followed him into his studio.. “You can pick your spot. There’s a table in here, or the kitchen, or outside if you want. If you prefer the sofa, you know where it is.”
She nodded and set up her laptop on the table.
After making sure Carly had everything she needed, Evan examined his painting. It was the place he used to hang out, drawing sketches for people to earn some money throughout high school. He could have painted it blindfolded.
Mixing the color he needed, he got to work.
***
Evan finished the painting and stepped back. It was good. It was just what he remembered. He’d even drawn himself in it, as a teenager, doing his sketches. He turned to say something to Carly, but she was gone. Concerned, he dumped his brushes in a cleaning solution and wandered through the house to find her.
She was sitting on the outdoor couch, her laptop on her lap, and McClane lying at her feet. She looked perfectly at home, as if she belonged. He blocked the yearning from his heart before it could take hold and checked the time. It was midafternoon and he hadn’t even offered her lunch.
“Are you hungry?”
She didn’t respond, her fingers flying over the keyboard.
He grinned, not so worried now that he hadn’t noticed her leave the studio. She was as involved in her work as he had been with his.
“Carolina,” he said, mimicking the way her mother said her name.
Carly jolted and looked up. “Sorry, did you say something?”
“I was wondering whether you’re hungry. We missed lunch.”
“Did we?” She checked the time on her laptop. “So we did. I’m a little hungry now you mention it.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
He put together a couple of sandwiches, grabbed his sketchbook and headed back outside. “Here you go,” he said, putting the sandwich on the table next to Carly.
“Thanks,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving the screen.
Evan chuckled. He was sure he was like
that when he was painting. Eating his sandwich, he watched her. Her focus was absolute and the tap on the keyboard was almost constant. Whatever she was doing, she was fully involved. He loved the concentration on her face and the way she absentmindedly brushed her curls away when they blocked her view.
He picked up his sketchbook and began to draw.
***
Evan’s stomach was grumbling when he finished. He grabbed his half-eaten sandwich and took a bite. Carly was still totally absorbed. He debated disturbing her again, but he hated to be interrupted while he was painting. She’d get hungry soon enough and stop. Finishing his sandwich, he went back inside to start his next painting.
The blank canvas mocked him as he tried to decide what to paint next. What he really wanted to do was paint a series of images of Carly. It would take some time to convince her to let him use the images in an exhibition, but that wasn’t the main purpose of painting her.
He shook his head. No, right now he needed to concentrate on the present exhibition, the urban landscape.
Closing his eyes, visions of Carly filled his mind. The urban stuff would have to wait. The pull to paint her was too strong.
Chapter 12
Evan looked up at the movement in the doorway. He must have been attuned to Carly to notice her walk in.
“Thanks for the sandwich,” she said.
He checked the time. It was close to dinner. “Did you just surface?”
She nodded. “Sorry. I must have completed blanked out.”
“Don’t sweat it. Happens to me all the time. Was it productive?”
“Yeah. I’ve finished the first stage.” She wandered over to him. “How about you?”
He gestured to the painting drying on one easel. “I’ve finished one and started on another.”
“Can I have a look?”
“Sure.” The nerves twitched in his stomach.
Carly walked over to the easel. He held his breath. She was silent for a long moment, scrutinizing the painting.
“Is that you?” she asked, pointing to the teenager drawing.
“Yeah.” He was surprised she could tell.
“It’s so detailed. You’ve captured the whole ambiance of the square; the hustle and bustle and the community of it. It feels like everyone there is friendly and knows one another.”
The nerves settled. “Thanks. It was a fun place to hang out.”
“What are you working on there?” she asked.
He hesitated. How was she going to react?
“Take a look,” he invited. He’d finished painting Carly, but had yet to add the background.
She gasped. “That’s me.”
He nodded, waiting.
She squinted at it. “I look powerful, in charge.” She paused. “Untouchable.”
Evan wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. “Carolina is a formidable person.”
She shook her head. “If I met that person, she’d scare the hell out of me.”
He frowned. “Carly, you are that person. At least when you’re doing business.”
“I never realized.” She seemed a little sad. “I’ve been pretending I know what I’m doing for so long.”
“I’m pretty sure you’ve got that down pat.” He kissed her forehead. “Why do you hide behind that face?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “When I first started making money, I had all these people giving me advice. They told me I had to look professional, show no fear, be assertive. I hired a stylist to show me how to present myself, and had a mentor to tell me how to deal with requests. It was a big learning curve and I had to work on it constantly. I guess it became who I am.”
He shook his head. “No. The real Carly is the woman who goes and helps out in the indie hub, the one who is so involved in her programming that she doesn’t register lunch being put in front of her, the one who goes to her mother’s every couple of weeks and spends time with her family.” He grabbed his sketchbook from the table and showed her the picture he’d drawn.
She stared at him. “When did you do this?”
“While I was having lunch. You were distracted.”
She examined the drawing. “It’s like a completely different person.” Her fingers entwined themselves in her hair. “I look so different with curly hair.”
“I like it.”
With a sigh, she put the sketchbook down. “This isn’t the type of person who runs a billion dollar company.”
Anger stirred in Evan. “You can look however you want. Steve Jobs wore turtlenecks, for heaven’s sake.”
“But he was a man.”
“So?”
“A woman is seen as more vulnerable by the men around her. Why do you think Softco arranged for me to be at their table the other night? They thought they could get to me.”
Evan had no experience in that kind of thing. He had no idea if she was right, but it galled him to think that maybe she was. “Surely the way you wear your hair doesn’t matter.”
She shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Should we think about dinner?”
He let her change the topic. It was getting dark, and on cue, his stomach rumbled. “Yeah. I’ll grill a couple of steaks and make a salad.”
“Sounds good.”
He led her into the kitchen and grabbed the makings for a salad out of the fridge.
“You’ve got far more in your fridge than I do,” Carly said.
“It’s too much of a hassle to go out every time I need to eat.”
Evan fed McClane, who had turned up as soon as he’d heard them in the kitchen. Carly chopped vegetables for the salad and he marinated the steaks. He tried to remember the last time he’d had a woman in his kitchen, the last time someone had helped him prepare dinner. It had to have been in Michigan, but he struggled to remember details. Normally the women he dated didn’t stick around for too long. They got tired of being ignored while he painted, thought he should drop everything to be with them when they wanted it, because being an artist wasn’t really work.
He and Carly had slipped into a rhythm without any fuss. They saw each other when they could, and she was even busier than he was. It didn’t faze her when he worked for hours, because she did exactly the same thing. There weren’t any expectations from her. Evan appreciated that. He’d spent way too much of his life not living up to his parents’ expectations.
“Do you want a drink?” He held up a bottle of sparkling apple cider. He’d made sure he had a bottle in his fridge since the picnic.
She grinned. “Yes, please.”
Her smile sent warmth through him and he put the bottle down and pulled her into his arms. She fit snugly against him and he kissed her. A shiver of lust went through him as her arms encircled him and she kissed him back just as fiercely. This woman was incredible. How could no one see it?
He reluctantly broke the kiss, and Carly looked up at him with desire in her eyes. He wanted to drag her off to bed, but then they’d never get dinner. He cleared his throat. “I’ll get you that drink.”
When everything was ready, they decided to sit outside to eat.
“What should I expect tomorrow?” Evan asked. He’d been to Halloween parties before, but never to a Day of the Dead event.
“We’ll go over early and honor the dead. Mama will have already built the altars for each person.”
“What do you do with the altar?”
“We decorate it and then tell stories of the person we are honoring.”
It was different from anything he was used to. “Who will you be honoring?”
Her smile was a little sad. “My father, two of Mama’s brothers and Mama’s father and grandparents. The girls will all have people to honor as well. You’ll get to meet some of the foster girls Mama has cared for over the past nine years.”
“And after that?”
“Then we party. Food, drink, music and celebration. Mama invites whole communities around and we celebrate together. You might want to bring your sketchbook.”
“That wouldn’t be inappropriate?”
“Not at all. We’re celebrating life and you’d be capturing it. Though you may want to dance instead.”
“I didn’t think you danced.”
She shook her head and her curls danced around. “I don’t, but it’s mandatory to have at least a jig.”
He wanted to see that. He wanted to see Carly really relax and let go.
“It goes until late, but I usually leave early because I need to work the next day.”
“Why don’t you crash here again? That way you’ll have a chance to rest before driving.” And he could spend another night with her.
“All right. That would be great.”
He liked that she wasn’t presuming to stay. He didn’t have to deal with her disappointment if he had wanted to paint instead.
“Do you have some more work you want to do tonight?” he asked.
“No, I’m done. My brain can only take so much at once.”
There was a twinge of disappointment. He’d wanted to finish the painting of her tonight.
“If you’ve got more painting to do, I can watch the next Die Hard movie with McClane.” She stretched. “Though that might even be too much for me right now.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course not. You’ve got the exhibition coming up. I don’t want to stop you getting your work done. It’s important.”
She understood. It was probably the first time that anyone really understood what he did. “Thanks.”
After they’d cleaned up, he set her up with the movie and some popcorn and went back to his studio.
She was his kind of woman.
***
It was past midnight when Evan signed the bottom of the painting. Had Carly come to say goodnight and he’d ignored her? He couldn’t remember any interruption. He cleaned his brushes quickly and then walked into the living room. Carly was lying on the couch asleep, and McClane had climbed up next to her. The DVD menu screen kept repeating over and over.
Carefully, he sat on the edge of the couch. “Carly, you need to go to bed.”
Change of Heart (The Flanagan Sisters, #2) Page 13