“That’s right.”
“Which I took to mean you didn’t bring any of your completed works with you when you moved from Philadelphia—yes, the internet told me where you’re from, but does that mean you haven’t done any painting since you moved to Rust Creek Falls?”
She held his gaze for a long moment. Jonah had a feeling he already knew what her answer would be, but he waited, wondering if she would answer him.
Or maybe she’d just toss him out of here on his ass.
“No.”
The simple reply seemed to take the life out of her.
Vanessa sank deeper into her chair, her shoulders slumped and her chin almost to her chest, her body free of the bravado from a moment ago.
He wanted to go to her, pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be all right. The strength of that wanting surprised him, kept him glued to his chair.
“When did you last paint something?” he finally asked.
“It’s been...a while.”
She gave up playing with her meal. Resting her elbows on the edge of the table, the numerous bracelets slid down her arm, her fingers so tightly laced together the tips were turning white. She stared across the room at her art supplies, a painful longing evident on her face.
“A long while,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Almost a year.”
Jonah didn’t know much about art, but for any person to be away from their work for that long...
There must be a reason, which didn’t explain why she’d accepted Nate’s commission. “Why did you agree to paint a mural at the resort, then?”
The longing disappeared as she turned to face him again, a bit of that rebel still flickering in her gaze. “Are you asking as my boss?”
“I’m not your boss.” His tone left no room for argument. Still, he softened it when he said, “I’m asking as a friend.”
She sighed, and relaxed her grip, wiggling her fingers for a moment before untangling them to tuck a few wayward curls behind one ear.
“I took the job for a couple of reasons,” she said. “One, because Nate was so persuasive in what he was looking for and why he wanted a mural that I really wanted to be a part of his vision for the resort. And two, I thought doing a commissioned piece—with a deadline—might be just what I need to get over this...”
“Block.” Jonah finished her sentence when her voice trailed off. “Is that how you’ve overcome a situation like this in the past?”
“I’ve never experienced anything like this before. Never been cut off from my gift before. I used to be able to get lost in my work, paint for hours on end. Almost in a subconscious way, but now...” Vanessa’s voice trailed off, as if she was lost in her own thoughts.
Then she offered a small smile while righting herself in her chair, her posture back in place. “Boy, that’s the first time I’ve actually admitted that aloud. Not sure how I feel about that.”
Relief swept through Jonah at the curve of her lips, even if the gesture didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Perhaps asking about her work—or lack thereof—had been a good thing after all. “It happens to everyone, you know.”
She dug back into her meal. “Even you?”
“Well, no, not exactly.” Jonah admitted, taking a forkful of meat and pasta, as well. “I’ve been pushing hard, working pretty much nonstop for last eight years. Starting at the bottom, but with no plans to stay there, I had to pay my dues in my chosen field. Work my way up. I didn’t have time to be blocked.”
“Sounds like you had something to prove.”
Considering what he’d already shared tonight about his failed marriage, she was right on target. “I did. To myself and a few others who thought my dream of being an architect was just the wishful thinking of a kid who preferred Legos and Erector Sets to horses.”
He shrugged. “Maybe a part of me still feels that way. I’ve succeeded in what I set out to do careerwise, enough so that I could take a leave of absence to work on the resort.”
“Whereas I just fell into my success before I was even a teenager.”
Jonah wasn’t sure he liked where this was heading. “Hey, I didn’t say that. From what I read you’ve worked very hard for your achievements.”
“I know you didn’t mean it that way.” She waved off his words, then stilled, her gaze focused on both of her outstretched hands. “Yes, I have worked hard since finding out I could paint, continuing to study and practice my craft. So to have it just up and disappear after fourteen years...is a bit scary.”
She dropped her hands, grabbed the basket of rolls and held it out to him. “And how is it you’ve never been stuck creatively? There’s got to be more to your line of work than planning, designing and constructing.”
“There is, namely, the customer.” Jonah took one of the soft and still warm buns. “Very rarely am I given total free rein to design whatever I want. In fact, the last thing I did that was purely my own from start to finish was this cabin. There are a whole lot of discussions about what the customer wants and needs—be it a private home, factory or a twenty-story high-rise, not to mention all the rules, regulations and red tape that go along with any project, before creativity comes into play.”
“So tell me more about how creative you got to be with the resort.” She gave him a quick wink. “From what little I’ve seen so far the place is going to be magnificent.”
He knew what she was doing.
Getting him to talk about his work would keep him from asking her any more questions. Okay, fair enough. He’d spoken out of turn. Even if that ended up being a good thing, if she wanted to lead the discussion in another direction, he’d let her.
They resumed eating while he shared his plans and ideas for renovating the old log mansion. He talked about the environmentally friendly steps they were taking to bring the structures into the twenty-first century while maintaining the rustic charm that would be the resort’s biggest selling feature. It was a favorite topic of his.
She ooh’d and ahh’d in all the right places, even giving him a big smile when he mentioned adding zip lining to the resort’s summertime activities.
Still, that didn’t stop Jonah from thinking about what she’d revealed to him a few minutes ago.
He wanted to ask her what—if anything specific—had caused her to be unable to paint. She’d said it’d been almost a year. Had something happened back in Philadelphia? Was moving to Rust Creek Falls this past summer a way of reviving her creative juices?
If so, that had been three months ago. Why hadn’t it worked?
They finished their meal, and the bottle of wine, and when they took their dishes into the kitchen, Jonah decided a peace offering was in order.
After all, she was right. Her painting was her business, not his.
“How about I do the dishes?” he asked. “You can consider it payment for sticking my nose in where it didn’t belong.”
She filled the sink with dish soap, reminding Jonah of her doing the same thing just a couple of days ago at the community center.
“How about we let them soak for a while?” she said, taking his plate and utensils from him to add with hers. “But if you really think restitution is in order, I’ve got an idea.”
Jonah took a step back when she aimed the water spray at the sink, never quite sure what crazy idea she’d come up with next. “What did you have in mind?”
She turned off the water, grabbed a dish towel and dried her hands as she headed for the bookcases. Seconds later a classic Garth Brooks song filled the air.
“Teach me to dance.” Vanessa walked back to where he stood. “Country-style two-stepping, to be precise.”
Jonah grinned, moving out of the kitchen into the dining room. There might be enough room if they pushed back the leather sofa and the
antique chair. “Right here?”
“Nope.”
She brushed past him and headed for the oversize, floor-to-ceiling windows behind him. Running her hand down the left side of the middle glass, she found the hidden latch and the window—which was actually a door—opened, pivoting toward the deck outside.
“Can you believe I lived here for almost three weeks before I figured this out?” She turned to him, a light breeze coming in through the opening and ruffling her curls. “Your mom was so impressed when I showed her.”
“I’ll bet.” He glanced down at her bare feet, having done his best not to stare at the bright-blue-polished toes until this moment. “If we’re going to do this, maybe you should get your shoes on.”
* * *
Vanessa looked down. She was barefoot.
How in the world had she’d spent the past hour and a half with this man and not realized that?
“That’s probably a good idea. Be right back.”
She hurried to the bedroom, grabbing a pair of socks and her favorite ankle boots. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled them on, and then took a moment to check her hair. Pushing a few curls into place, her hand stilled when she saw her and Adele’s picture on the nightstand in the mirror’s reflection.
He’d noticed Adele’s artwork, the evidence that she wasn’t painting and how she tried to change the topic of their dinner conversation.
She got the feeling not much got past Jonah.
Not when he came right out and asked about the blank canvases.
For a moment during dinner, she’d toyed with brushing off his questions, and even though he hadn’t come right out and asked her why she wasn’t painting, he’d been the first person other than her agent to talk about it.
No one among her family and friends had dared to question her lack of producing anything new. Granted, they’d been worried about the deep depression she’d gotten herself into the past year. But even when she’d finally come out of that there were no inquiries about a new collection.
She’d only told the firm who represented her work that she was taking a break for the unforeseeable future, which ironically had driven up the value of her older pieces in the past few months.
Deep inside, she often wondered if maybe what she’d created in the past fourteen years was all there was.
Nope, not going there.
Giving herself a mental shake, Vanessa backed away from the mirror. “You’ve got a sexy architect out there waiting to hold you in his arms. That’s more than enough to keep you occupied tonight.”
She hurried back out to the main room and saw Jonah had stepped out on the deck. Flipping on the outside lamps to give them a bit more light, she joined him. The night was cool, but that didn’t seem to bother Jonah as he folded back his shirtsleeves until the cuffed material stopped just below his elbows.
“Gearing up for battle?”
He turned around, a smile on his face. “Good thing I wore my steel-toed cowboy boots.”
She faked a pout. “Oh, I’m not that bad.”
He offered one raised eyebrow in response.
“Okay, but it’s because of lack of practice.” She clapped her hands together. “So, what’s first?”
Jonah stepped forward, reaching for her and she easily moved into his arms. “You seemed to get the necessity of the framework—the placement of our hands—and the need to keep some distance between us, especially when you’re first learning.”
Yeah, not as much fun as the intimate way he’d held her when they danced at the bar.
That night their bodies had been touching completely, her soft curves against his muscles as they moved in slow circles—
“Vanessa?”
The huskiness of Jonah’s voice made her leave the memory to look up at him. The light from the open door spilled out on the deck, but only on one side, leaving the rest of his face in shadow.
Not enough that she couldn’t see the heat in his gaze as his fingers closed around hers while the muscles in his shoulder constricted where she’d placed her right hand.
Was he remembering, too?
“Did you hear me?” he asked.
She blinked, then nodded. “Frame and distance. Got it. It’s more of the ‘quick, quick, slow, slow’ and remembering to start off with my right foot that throws me.”
“Just remember what women have been saying since time began,” he said. “You’re right. About everything, including which foot to start off with.”
She smiled. “Very funny. True, but still funny.”
“Try to remember to put your weight on your left foot when you get into the ready position so you’re all set to step off with the other foot.”
Hmmm, that made sense. “Okay, I’ll try.”
“Oh, and even though the female might be ‘right’ in this situation,” Jonah dipped his head closer, his voice now a whisper, “there is a leader and a follower when it comes to two-stepping. The man is the leader.”
Oh, she’d follow his lead anywhere.
One corner of his mouth rose into a grin and she wondered again if she’d spoken aloud something that definitely needed to stay inside her head.
“You’re in charge.” She schooled her features into an expression of innocence, tossing in a few battered eyelashes at him for good measure. “I’m here to do your bidding, sir.”
Jonah straightened, clearing his throat. “And look at me.” He locked his gaze with hers when she did. “At your partner. No need to see what your feet are doing. That’s only asking for trouble.”
They got into position and with Jonah counting off the steps in a low tone, they began. Easily shuffling to the end of the deck near the back of the cabin, where it was much darker even with the outside lighting.
Then came the dreaded turn and she tumbled right into his arms. And onto his feet.
Jonah laughed, but quickly showed her the correct steps for a smooth turn and they were off again, making their way around the entire perimeter twice without a mistake.
“You see, you’re doing fine.”
“Shhh, don’t talk unless you’re chanting.” She shot back, afraid she’d lose count. “You’ll throw me off.”
Jonah’s laugh was a low chuckle, but he went back to reciting his instructions. When they were on their fourth circuit, dancing to Billy Currington’s song about a woman who’s got a way with him, Vanessa realized Jonah had gone silent and they continued to move in a natural rhythm.
Even she had stopped saying the words in her head and simply enjoyed dancing and being in Jonah’s arms. “I think I’ve finally got the hang of it.”
Jonah nodded. “It’s a bit harder in a club or bar where you’re surrounded by other couples, all moving in the same direction, but as long as you focus on what you and your partner are doing, you’ll be fine.”
“This is so great. Wait until the next time I go dancing at the Ace. I’ll be fighting off the men who’ll want to partner with me.”
Jonah stumbled and almost fell backward, but kept the two of them upright by pulling her close. Her hand automatically moved higher up on his neck as he wrapped his arm around her waist, his hand spread wide against her back, anchoring her against him.
Just like Thursday night at the bar.
“Ah, sorry about that.” Jonah spoke into her curls. “The deck must be getting slippery.”
The warmth of his words against her forehead felt wonderful. So wonderful she’d missed what he’d just said. “What?”
“Vanessa, it’s raining. Hadn’t you noticed?”
She tipped back her head. A light mist appeared in the glow from the lamps and landed on her skin. She’d been so involved with the lesson she hadn’t realized she and Jonah were dancing in the rain.
Oh!
Nu
mber nineteen: dance in the rain.
Without any planning or intention, she’d checked off another item on her list. Closing her eyes, Vanessa sent a silent thank you to the heavens and a shiver raced through her in response.
“Are you cold?”
Jonah’s hand was warm against her neck, and she opened her eyes to look at him. She shook her head, and when his thumb gently moved back and forth across her lips, she couldn’t stop herself from tasting him.
“Vanessa.”
He whispered her name, his thumb still against her lips, before his mouth covered hers. His hand tunneled into her hair, pulling her closer.
A hot flush exploded over her as she welcomed his kisses. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she held on as a yearning, passionate and deep, raced to every part of her before it returned to settle deep inside her heart.
She’d wondered if her reaction—both physical and emotional—to the kisses they’d shared a few nights ago was due to time and distance, but she’d never felt this sweet pull before.
She’d never been seduced by just a man’s kiss before. Wanting it to go on forever, but desperate to see what might happen next. He tasted sweet and spicy as his mouth continued to move against hers, causing another tremor to attack, the intensity of it making her shake in his arms.
He lifted his lips from hers then, but before she could say a word he picked her up in his arms and carried her back inside the cabin. Pausing for a moment, he gently kicked at the door and it swung closed. Walking farther inside, she wondered for a moment if he was going to take her back to the bedroom, but he crossed to the leather sofa and sat, still cradling her in his embrace.
His mouth was back on hers as he pressed her back into the softness of the pillows. She grabbed his shoulders, and tugged, making it clear she wanted him to join her.
He hesitated, breaking free, his eyes dark and questioning.
“Please, Jonah.”
He stretched out over her, levering himself up on one elbow as he placed soft, wet kisses the length of her neck from ear to her shoulder where her sweater had slipped off.
The Last-Chance Maverick Page 10
