Special Delivery (The Great Outdoors Book 4)

by Shayne McClendon

Shania stared at the courier until he disappeared from sight behind closing elevator doors. It was impossible not to appreciate the sight of such a beautiful male.

  “He’s perfection,” she murmured to herself.

  He was lean with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. The snug uniform shirt showed every detail of his upper body and baggy cargo shorts didn’t hide the tight butt and sculpted legs resulting from hours working as a bike messenger.

  Shaggy black hair framed his face and black brows arched over intense blue eyes. The man had a face like a fallen angel. Even his ears were pretty.

  From his head to his feet, his body was in ideal symmetry. Everything in perfect proportion.

  She needed to paint him. A compulsion she knew well flared to life in the back of her mind.

  Racing to her office, she grabbed her pad and pencils. Back at Patti’s desk, she sketched some rough outlines of Spencer from memory. The light in her own office was great but it was even better in the small lobby.

  When it was no longer possible to work from home, she needed space that offered a professional image but kept costs low enough for her to build a foundation.

  A local developer refurbished the grand old building and offered his first renters a huge discount if they signed a two-year lease. She called the number in the letter delivered to her house and arranged to walk the building.

  It was love at first sight.

  Her unit wasn’t very big but it was perfect for her office, a storage room, a tiny kitchen that doubled as a conference room, and a private bathroom.

  It was the lobby that made her love it. Stepping out of the elevator directly into a bright, fantastic view of the city was effective marketing.

  When the developer’s assistant called her with the rate being proposed, Shania danced around her house.

  Attempting to tone down her giddiness, she said calmly, “Thank you, Lola. I’ll take it!”

  “Excellent, Miss Murphy. I’ll courier over the rental agreement as well as your keys.”

  “I’m excited.”

  “Incidentally, I mentioned your designs to Mr. Winters and a couple of his colleagues. Are you able to take additional clients for graphic work?”

  Stunned, Shania barely managed a verbal response. “Y-yes.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I’ll email you a test project with our standard rates.”

  “I…okay. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Miss Murphy. Enjoy the new office!”

  From that day on, she’d had enough steady work – in a beautiful yet functional environment – to support herself and her sick mother. One less worry.

  Falling into the feel of the pencil on the paper, she lost track of time. The elevator dinged and Shania should’ve cared more about the print approvals from the firm that represented ten percent of her income.

  She didn’t care about her client work even a little at the moment.

  Glancing up, she watched as he stepped into the lobby with a brilliant smile on his face. He captivated her.

  She stood up straight and held out her hands to take the prints, putting them down without a glance.

  Unable to pull her eyes away, she examined his features. It was the same disconnection she’d experienced only a few times in her life only far more powerful.

  All she wanted to do was create using this man as her subject.

  Her heart pounded in her chest and she wondered idly if she looked as insane as she felt. Doing her best to be casual, she cleared her throat.

  “Spencer, I have a question. A-a request. Please do not take this the wrong way or feel pressured into agreeing.” One of his dark brows lifted and she ached to draw the effect on the rest of his face. “I’d like to sketch you.”

  “Sketch me?” he asked quietly.

  “I have an intriguing vision in my mind and I-I tend to go completely insane if I don’t capture it in a couple of days.”

  The office phone rang and she growled in frustration before she ran to pick it up.

  “Murphy Designs.” She rolled her eyes and stomped her foot. “Yes, Troy. I just got them back. No, I hadn’t had a moment to look at them yet. Did you need changes?” She listened impatiently. “No, Troy. You’ll lose the balance if you take out those trees.”

  She opened the portfolio Spencer brought back and sighed as she removed three drawings.

  Save me from supposed experts, she thought cattily.

  “Troy, you still there?”

  She spread the drawings out along the countertop and avoided looking at the man who was already crowding out her ability to think rationally.

  “Yes, I have it here. I’ll change the colors but not the bulk.” He chattered away in her ear. “I’m mentally changing that and it won’t look right.” She wondered about the length of Spencer’s eyelashes. “I don’t care if I can still charge you. My time is still valuable and I know you’ll hate it.” This call needed to end. “Right, because I’m the artist.”

  She soon bored of the repetitive conversation. It was why she loved Patti. The single mom screened her calls with analytical precision and conducted most correspondence through email. Shania rarely had to talk on the phone.

  Besides, the woman was one of the few on the planet able to force her to focus without being mean.

  Picking up her sketchpad from behind the counter and a charcoal pencil, she returned to drawing while she talked.

  From her peripheral, she watched him move closer. Mumbling at the appropriate places between her client’s sentences, she saw Spencer’s eyes go wide.

  He breathed, “Holy shit.”

  His gaze lifted sharply and he started to apologize but she shook her head with a smile. Turning the pad around so he could see it better, his mouth dropped open.

  Putting her call on mute, she said quickly, “I told you…I really want to draw you.”

  Sighing, she returned to her client. “Listen, Troy, I hear you and you know I’ll get you what you need even if it isn’t what you want. I have to run.”

  Frowning, she replied, “No. It’s not a date. I have an art class.” And…here it came again. “I don’t want to go out to dinner with you, Troy. You’re a client. I don’t date clients and you’ll never find another designer that would put up with you. Mm hmm, trust me to know what’s best. I’ll send you the revisions tomorrow afternoon. Sure thing. Bye.”

  Tossing her phone unceremoniously to the desk, she pulled her paper close and started filling in the details.

  “It…looks like a photograph,” Spencer said quietly. “You’re better than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “Nah. I just love it is all.” Glancing up, she knew he saw her blush. “The full country just slipped in, didn’t it?” He nodded and she was almost breathless at the brightness of his smile. “I get distracted and forget to school it out.”

  “I like it. It makes you unique around here.”

  Relieved, she returned to the first of many drawings of the man in front of her…if he was willing.

  “So. I’m not kidding about drawing you. I get a little anxious when the creative fever strikes.”

  A couple more lines and she felt the joy that filled her up with the perfect storm of creativity.

  “I know it sounds crazy, Spencer. I’ll pay you to sit for me and buy you dinner.”

  “Don’t you have work you have to finish?”

  “I’ll knock it out in the morning. I always act like it takes me longer than it does.” She twisted her fingers together. “I’ll need more deliveries tomorrow afternoon. Should I call the service?”

  “No. I’ll come by whenever you’re ready.” He wrote his phone number on a message pad and handed it to her.

  “What do you say? About sitting for me?”

  “This is important to you.” She didn’t blame him for seeming a little confused. “Drawing me, I mean. It’s important.”

  “More than I can explain without getting myself committed on an involuntary hold.”

  “
Then I’m happy to do it.” He tilted his head. “Aren’t you nervous? You don’t know me.”

  Leaning her forearms on top of the bar height counter, she shook her head slowly. “Your eyes are…older and purer somehow. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Never.”

  “Can you come to the studio at my house in a couple of hours? I’m happy to give you cab fare.”

  “Not necessary. What’s the address?” She wrote it quickly and handed it to him before he could change his mind. “I’ll see you around six.”

  “Thank you so much. You can’t imagine what a huge favor you’re doing me right now, Spencer.”

  “I’m glad to do it.” He smiled and she signed the receipts for the second delivery. “See you later, Shania.”

  “Okay.” She watched him leave, unable to look away until the elevator doors hid him from her.

  Rushing through the office, she turned off lights, electronics, and set the alarm.

  It had been years since the fever took her like this. The desire to sketch him, paint him, and perhaps even sculpt him was stronger than anything she’d felt…ever.

  Spencer had just become her latest muse.

  Chapter Eight

  Spencer felt her unwavering attention on him until the lift doors slid closed. He returned to the office with his thoughts racing madly.

  Shania Murphy thought he was doing her a favor. He knew better. He knew who she was to him. She’d just allowed him a valid, somewhat unusual entrance into her life.

  He felt a similar need to spend more time with her.

  His heart pounded from the moment he met her eyes and tried not to think too much about the fact that he’d been fully erect as well. A reaction no other woman ever had on him.

  It was inconvenient, awkward, and embarrassing. Gritting his teeth, he wondered what his grandparents would have thought about the odd meeting.

  After so many years of waiting, everything seemed surreal.

  Back at the courier building, he stored his bike and checked in with Desi. She hugged him tight for helping.

  As he headed for his apartment, he paused and returned to lean against her desk. Attempting a casual tone he didn’t feel, he told her, “By the way, if any deliveries or pickups are requested for Murphy Designs, I’ll do them personally.”

  “Interesting.” Her eyes narrowed. “Personally, huh?” He shrugged one shoulder. “Sure thing.”

  Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Thanks.” He walked away but blushed as her girlish giggle echoed behind him.

  “This is going to be fascinating, boss.”

  “You’re killing me, Desi.” It only made her laugh harder. “I’m out for the rest of the day. Call me if you need me.”

  “This place would have to be burning for me to dial your cell. Go have fun, Spencer. It’s about damn time.”

  Crossing the threshold of his space on the top floor, he started stripping. By the time the water was hot enough, he was naked and painfully aroused.

  He tried to ignore it by washing his body quickly but his cock had its own agenda. With a resigned sigh, he fisted the aching shaft and stroked himself to images of Shania’s smile.

  It was a shock when he climaxed hard and fast to such a vanilla fantasy. As jets of his semen swirled down the drain, he caught his breath against the tile.

  “You act like a pre-pubescent teen around her and this will end in a restraining order. Pull it the fuck together, Bishop.”

  The pressure somewhat relieved, he toweled off and pulled on jeans, a t-shirt, and trail sneakers.

  He brushed his teeth and finger-combed his hair, convinced it was the best option since he’d looked far worse when he walked into Shania’s office.

  Explaining the situation to his security team and walked the ten short blocks from his building to her house. The time to think – and breathe – would do him good.

  On a quaint street, he found her narrow brownstone. Three stories tall, it was only twenty feet wide. Smiling at the remodeled front and bright flowers in the planters on either side of the entrance, he rang the bell.

  Shania opened the door and he almost fell off her stoop. If he thought she was pretty before, her current appearance hit him like a fist to the gut.

  She wore low slung jeans, a white tank top, her hair wavy to the middle of her back, and bare feet. Delicate, with small breasts and narrow hips, Spencer found her beyond stunning.

  He sent a strong message to his dick: behave yourself.

  The moment she saw him, her smile lit her bright green eyes and she motioned him inside.

  When the door closed, she locked it and quietly asked him to wait a moment while she checked on her mother.

  Nodding, struggling to find words, he followed her as she walked across the narrow foyer to a double door. It appeared to be the only room on the first floor.

  Inside, a lovely older woman reclined in a hospital bed, attached to various medical machinery. Her eyes flicked to Spencer before focusing on her daughter with a smile.

  “Better today, Mama?”

  “Yes, honey. You look so pretty. You have the fever?”

  Shania laughed softly. “How did you know?”

  “Well,” she reached out to take Shania’s hand, “he’s awful pretty to be here fixin’ the plumbin’.” She winked. “And your fingers keep twitchin’.”

  Glancing over her shoulder, Shania tugged her lower lip between her teeth as she met Spencer’s eyes. “Mama, this is Spencer. He agreed to sit for me.”

  Returning her gaze to her mom, she brushed her fingers over her pale cheek. “This is my mama, Arabella Murphy.”

  Stepping to the doorway but no further, Spencer gave a slight bow. “Mrs. Murphy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He smiled at the nurse perched on the edge of a recliner in the corner. “Ma’am.”

  Eyes that matched her daughter’s widened. “Aren’t you elegant? Y’all go on now. Beth gave me my medicine and I-I’m about to fall right out on you.”

  Bending, Shania kissed her cheeks and hugged her carefully. “Love you, Mama.”

  “I love you. Paint something spectacular, honey.”

  Nodding, she backed from the room and closed the door, resting her palm on the wood for a moment.

  Inhaling deeply, she murmured, “Thank you for waiting, Spencer.” Lifting her face, she added, “You impressed her. My mom isn’t impressed easily.”

  In her bare feet, she was three or four inches shorter than he was. That’s different.

  “Is she going to be alright?” he inquired carefully.

  She didn’t reply for a long moment and he watched her swallow hard. “No, she isn’t. She’s in the last stages of pancreatic cancer. She’s been through all the treatment her body can handle and she’s tired. She wants to rest.”

  “I’m so sorry, Shania.”

  “Thank you. We’re managing the pain until…” She raked her fingers through her hair and took another deep breath. “Watching her suffer is the hardest part.”

  Spencer couldn’t imagine what it would be like to watch a loved one die in such a way. All of it happening slowly but still knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it.

  He touched the top of her hand. “I know a lot of people. I could ask around about treatments that might help.”

  “After surgery and chemo didn’t work, I tried a dozen alternative remedies in desperation. Some eased the side effects but…there was no change.”

  A small smile touched the corner of her mouth. “I imagine you meet all kinds of people through your job.”

  At that moment, Spencer saw his opening to explain being the head of the Bishop empire. To tell her who he was.

  Something held him back.

  Instead, he told her vaguely, “What I do takes me all over. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “You’re a good person, Spencer. Know that we’ve made peace with what will happen.”

  Turning, she started up the narrow stairs to the second floor occupied by a
snug kitchen and living room.

  “Are you thirsty? Hungry? I’m going to order food in a bit but I have stuff now if you need something.”

  Spencer shook his head so she kept climbing to the third floor. The uppermost level of the narrow brownstone was completely open.

  One end held a huge bed, a couple of chests, a farmers table, and a chaise lounge. The other side of the room featured a seating area with couches, a chair, and an ottoman. All of them were draped in heavy white sheets.

  The ceiling pipes and beams were exposed and both ends of the space had windows the height and width of the wall.

  There was an enormous canvas on an easel and an old drafting table beside it. One section of the wall was filled with paintings and he wandered closer to look at them.

  “You did all these?”

  “Yes. It’s the thing I love most.”

  “You’re incredible.”

  “I’m okay. I paint what makes my brain burn.”

  He turned to look at her, his heart stuttering in his chest. “I make your brain burn?”

  “You’ve set everything on fire. It’s the strangest thing.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I won’t argue with the inspiration.”

  The fingers of her right hand tapped slowly against her thigh. For a few seconds, she seemed to trance out as she stared at him. Shaking her head, she laughed. “Wow. I need to fake being normal a little longer at least.”

  “I like the way you are.”

  Blinking, she said cheerfully, “No matter what I ask you to do, I ask that you trust me. I’m not going to harm you in any way. Alright?”

  He nodded and she exhaled in clear relief. “Take off your shirt and shoes and come over here with me. If you’re wearing any jewelry, your phone, your wallet, you can leave them anywhere.”

  Over her shoulder, she winked. “I didn’t bring you here to mistreat you.”

  * * *

  Shania watched as Spencer toed off his shoes, removed his socks, and pulled his t-shirt over his head.

  Holy shit.

  He was symmetrical, everything in just exactly the right balance and proportion. The impact of his fit and happily bare upper body almost made her clutch her stomach. She barely controlled the reaction.