Corny, but it was really the only way to describe her.
His phone chimed again.
Tamsen: Oh and fair warning…I plan to claim my winnings, so be prepared because I have found the absolute BEST prop to paint you with.
That sounded ominous. After the water bottle trick, he’d learned Tamsen had a wicked sense of humor. He dug it, but who knew what she was going to subject him to?
Parker: You’re not going to make me pose with some creepy taxidermy squirrel riding a scooter, are you?
Tamsen: I wasn’t, but now…
Parker: No! I draw the line at dead rodents.
Tamsen: I don’t remember us setting stipulations on the bet.
Damn. He should have.
Parker: I’m going to hate this, aren’t I?
She sent back a winking kiss face emoji. Laughter spilled out of him. Even in text this woman could get to him. He was super curious about what prop she found but even more curious if she wanted him to be naked while she painted. He hoped so. Him naked might lead to her naked, and then they could have naked time together.
His favorite kind of time.
Bad idea, future stepsister, investigating her father.
He ignored his conscience. Wishing for something and actually having it happen wasn’t the same thing.
Tamsen: See you Monday at 8.
Parker: See ya.
He held his breath while more dots appeared, wondering what she was going to say, a feeling in his gut telling him it was something big.
Tamsen: As you saw, most of my subjects are drawn au natural…so plan accordingly.
Oh shit! She did intend to draw him naked. As much as he knew he shouldn’t be excited by that prospect…he was. God, he was so tired of fighting the attraction he had to this woman. After their kiss the other night, it was damn near impossible now. Maybe if they took one night, and were up front about their expectations with each other, they could get it out of their systems and go on as friends. What was the alternative? Lusting after a woman he’d soon be pseudo-related to? That couldn’t happen. His mother was a smart woman. She’d see something was up and take him to task for it.
No, better to try and burn this fire out before it got out of control and destroyed everything.
After sending the heart eyes emoji back to her, which received another winking kiss face emoji, he slipped his phone back in his pocket, adjusted his pants, and counted backward from one hundred until he could walk back into the station without a raging hard-on he knew his crew would notice and comment on.
Now all he had to do was make it through the rest of his shift and then…Tamsen.
A little voice in the back of his brain warned him getting involved with her while investigating her father was a bad idea, but he ignored it. What he and Tamsen did had nothing to do with his checking into her dad. They were two separate things. Besides, so far everything with Thomas looked on the up and up. Parker hoped Frank wouldn’t find anything else, and he could let this heavy suspicion go. His mother would get a loving husband, he and Tamsen could have their fun, and no one would ever have to know anything about the PI.
Everybody won.
And he’d just ignore the tiny clench in his gut warning him he was headed for a five-alarm fire of epic proportions.
Chapter Thirteen
Tamsen did one last walk through of the gallery. The doors had been locked an hour ago. She’d finished all her closing duties. All the client purchases were packed up and ready to go out in the morning. Winston knew she was staying late to work, as she often did when she had shifts at the gallery. A great perk of her internship.
Another perk was the large back room that included a studio where visiting artists were invited to create masterpieces. The place she intended to use tonight to make a masterpiece of her own.
It was finally Monday night. She swore time had moved at a snail’s pace since she texted Parker Saturday afternoon. But here it was. Monday evening and in a few minutes the reason for her constant distraction lately would walk though that front door.
There was clearly chemistry between them. Tons of it if that kiss was anything to go by. And if they kept ignoring it, it might explode at the worst possible moment. Like, say, their parents’ wedding. The open bar, the romantic atmosphere…yeah, they needed to work this lust situation out before they made the mistake of sneaking out of the ceremony for a quickie and getting caught. Because with her luck, that would be the exact way the situation would go down.
Better to make a plan, get it all out of their systems now. Or, as Cora put it when they discussed the situation while pairing wine with Girl Scout cookies the other night, you better put that man under you so you can get over him. Yup. If she kept acting like a horny teenager anytime she was near Parker, her dad would eventually notice, and that was a conversation she didn’t want to have.
Ever.
She pushed back the heavy blackout curtain separating the back studio from the rest of the gallery. Everything was set up for Parker’s arrival. The large blue tarpaulin was set out on the floor underneath the massive canvas.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. She’d read about this particular technique a few years ago but never imagined she’d have the guts or opportunity to try it.
A soft knock sounded from the front of the gallery. Her fist clenched around the curtain, pulling it closed tightly. This was it. He was here.
She made her way to the front of the gallery, the bright outdoor security lights of the building illuminating the figure standing just beyond the glass door.
Parker.
Heart racing with anticipation, she hurried to unlock the door.
“Hi.” He grinned as he stepped inside. “Hope I’m not late.”
She relocked the door and turned to him. “Nope. Right on time.”
“Great.”
He moved into the gallery, taking in the spacious area, the paintings hanging on the wall, the sculptures and mixed media installations they had roped off. She stood back, watching him take in each piece. One of the reasons she loved art so much was it tended to reveal more about the person consuming it than the artist themselves. The artist created, but the observer brought it to life.
“Wow.” He turned in a circle, taking it all in. “You’re right. This place is perfect for the party. My mom will really like it. She digs art.”
“And you?”
“I appreciate things that catch my eye.”
“Like what?”
His gaze swept the length of her, leaving a physical touch in its wake. She shivered, thighs clenching together as he smiled.
“Oh, you know, beautiful art, beautiful artists.”
He winked, and her panties nearly disintegrated.
She cleared her throat, moving to the side of the room where they had a small bar set up for show nights. “We have the bar here for cocktails, and there’s tables in the back we can bring out for more food, cake, party favors, and that kind of thing.”
As anxious as she was to get behind the curtain and start painting Parker, she had to take a moment to calm down. She was supposed to be the one in control here. He’d stepped inside and in less than five minutes he had her so flustered, she knew she was about two seconds away from doing something embarrassing, like tripping over her own damn feet, crashing into the wall, and setting off the security system. Boy, wouldn’t that put a damper on the night she had planned.
No. She could do this. She just had to find her chill. Not a problem.
Parker moved to the bar, leaning over to glance behind it. The movement gave her a great view of his perfect butt. Her mouth literally dropped open, a tiny droplet of drool falling from the corner of her mouth to slide down her jaw.
Crap! Her chill, where was her chill?
One view of Parker’s butt—his clothed butt—and it flew away. If she w
anted this night to go as she planned, she needed to move them both behind the black curtain. The sooner the better. The front walls of the gallery had giant windows to let in optimal light—great for viewing artwork, not so great if you were planning on paintings that involved getting naked…and other things.
“Yeah, I think this place will be perfect.”
He stood back up—dang it—and leaned against the bar. “I still think it’s kind of weird to have a wedding shower.”
“Lots of people have them.”
“Lots of people are weird.”
“What’s wrong with being a weirdo?” It was a moniker she’d been graced with many a time in her life. She didn’t mind. Most people were weird; some were just better at hiding it. Which she never understood. Why hide what made you unique?
He smiled softly. “Absolutely nothing. In fact, I think people who see the world from different angles, who live to the beat of their own drum no matter what anyone else thinks, are some of the bravest people around. You amaze me, Tamsen.”
She sucked in a breath as his gaze penetrated hers.
He rubbed his hands together, breaking the moment. “Well, should we move on to the next part of the evening? I’m ready to pose for you, Picasso.”
He did it again. That was supposed to be her line. Well, not that exactly, but she was supposed to usher him back to the next part of the evening. How did she keep letting him distract her?
Because he’s sexy as sin and I’m too focused on ten minutes from now instead of now.
“I’ve got everything set up in the back.”
She pointed to the black curtains. Parker’s eyebrows rose. He glanced from the curtains back to her with a wary expression.
“You’re not going to make me put, like, a rubber chicken mask over my head and have me sit in an oversize nest made out of garbage, are you?”
A bark of laughter burst out of her as the absurd image filled her head. Once she had her hilarity under control, she shook her head. “What kind of art are you looking at?”
“I saw a picture of something like that in a coffee shop once. Kinda creeped me out.” He lifted his hands. “Then again, what do I know about art?”
“It’s not about knowing. It’s about feelings.” She hoped he’d be feeling a lot. Very soon. “Come on.”
She motioned for him to follow her as she moved across the gallery toward the curtains, hitting the main room lights as they went. The front room plunged into darkness, but the lights from the street allowed enough of a glow that they made it to the curtain without stumbling over anything.
“Now,” she said turning to face him, one hand on the curtain. “If you’ve changed your mind and don’t want to do this, that’s fine.”
She would never force anyone to do anything they didn’t fully want to do. Artistically or otherwise. But she really hoped he hadn’t changed his mind. She was quite certain if she didn’t touch Parker in the next five minutes, she was going to die of lust, and honestly, that sounded like a terrible way to go.
“As long as it doesn’t involve dead animals or pretending to be an animal, I think I can handle it.”
“I promise there’s no taxidermy or chicken masks, but I have to say, those are very specific phobias of yours.” She gave him an evil grin. “I might have to use them as blackmail later.”
He grunted. “They’re not phobias. I just prefer my animals alive and adorable. And I don’t believe you’d ever stoop so low as to blackmail anyone.”
True, but she did love a good April Fool’s joke. Perhaps Parker would be getting one of those squeaking rubber chickens in the mail this year.
She pulled back the curtain, stepping through with Parker close behind her. The room was dim, lit by a small lamp she’d left on in the corner. This painting didn’t need a lot of light, but they couldn’t stumble around in total darkness.
Parker glanced around, confusion filling his eyes as he turned his head toward her.
“Where’s your easel? Don’t artists usually use an easel?”
She nodded. “Sometimes, but I don’t have one big enough for this canvas.”
“What canvas?”
She pointed to the floor. His eyes followed her motion, head tilting before they widened as he took in that the white material on the floor was a canvas.
“Oooookay, are you going to have me lay down and trace my body? Because I did that in first grade with Jenny Mews in art class, and it looked nothing like me.”
She laughed. “No. I’m not doing a portrait of you. In fact, this isn’t a single subject painting.”
“It’s not?”
Excitement and nerves mounting, she bit her lip. “Nope. So you know how the show I’m working on is all about the human form?” He nodded, so she continued. “Well, I thought it would be great to add a piece to it. It’s a new technique I read about that captures human expression, emotion, movement. It’s called Passion Painting.”
“What is that?”
She slowly made her way over to the canvas, her spiky heels making a soft crinkling sound as she walked over the blue tarpaulin. Reaching down, she grabbed the small box sitting on a table by the edge of the tarp. Her heart was pounding so hard and fast, she was afraid it might beat right out of her chest. She was pretty sure Parker would be down for her idea, but she wasn’t psychic.
Please don’t let him say no.
This wasn’t just about a cool art technique she wanted to try. That was just a bonus. The real objective for tonight was to get this man out of her system. Piece: Fuck the Lust Away.
Hmmmm, she probably shouldn’t title it that if she ever displayed it.
“We’re going to need some special supplies for this painting.”
Opening the wooden box covered in years of splattered paint, she pulled out the first item they’d need.
“Paintbrushes?” The left side of his mouth quirked up. “Seems like standard supplies for painting.”
She nodded. “Yup. These are pretty standard. These, however,” she placed the brushes on the table and grabbed the next item, “are a little more special.”
One dark eyebrow rose. “Looks like normal paint to me.”
Typical non-artist. There were so many different types of paint and none of them were normal. They all suited a special purpose. Worked on different media. “These are non-toxic, organic…body paint.”
His eyes widened, lips curling in a devastatingly sexy smile. “Oh, are they now?”
“Yes. Perfectly safe to use on any part of the human body.”
His gaze heated as she placed the paints on the table, hand reaching back into the box.
“More special supplies?”
“Just one.” She swallowed, hard, pulling out the last item they’d need. An entire strip of them.
“Condoms,” he growled.
Tamsen saw his muscles tense; she could practically see the air around him vibrating. When his tongue came out to swipe against his lower lip, she nearly lost it right then and there.
“Aren’t you tired of fighting this, Parker?”
“This?”
She waved a hand back and forth between them. “This…heat between us.”
“Sweetheart,” he said in a low voice. “This isn’t heat. This is full-blown fire.”
Good, he agreed. So then maybe… “Don’t you think we better put it out before it gets…out of control?”
The corner of his mouth curled up in a devilish smile. “You know, I was thinking the same exact thing earlier.”
The low rumble of his voice was working on her better than any foreplay she’d ever experienced. Seriously, if she could bottle that sound, she’d make a fortune in the sex toy industry.
“Glad we seem to be on the same page.”
His smile dipped. “But our parents—”
“Aren
’t involved in this. This is between you and me. It’s temporary, just scratching an itch so future family dinners won’t be…tense. No promises. No problems. They don’t have to know about our dalliance.”
“Dalliance?”
“Dalliance is a casual romantic or sexual relationship with someone. We both agreed we don’t want anything serious, and if we try to ignore this attraction, it’s only going to boil over until it explodes, probably at the wrong moment. And we can’t risk anything happening that would damage—”
“Tamsen,” he interrupted her ramblings with a small chuckle. “I know what the word dalliance means. I’ve just never heard anyone under the age of sixty use it.”
She placed the box on the table, narrowing her eyes. “Ass.”
He held up his hands and smiled. “I’m sorry, if I let you say dalliance, can we still do the passion painting? You know I think your nervous rambling is adorable.”
He thought she was adorable? Her heart started to sigh. No! Bad heart. It was not involved in this. Fun parts only, no feelings.
“So you know what a passion painting is?”
“I’m beginning to get the idea, but why don’t you explain it? Just in case. Slowly and in vivid detail.”
Laughter bubbled out of her. All her nerves started to dissipate. He had this way of setting her at ease that no one else did. He made her feel…safe.
“A passion painting is when two, or more, people paint their partner’s bodies and leave an expression of their joining on canvas.”
“Meaning…”
One look at the knowing smirk on his face and she knew he was going to make her say it. Well, that was fine with her. Tilting her chin up, she gave him her sultriest smile and explained in the basest terms possible.
The Wedding Dilemma (Mile High Firefighters) Page 12
