Tempting the Artist

by Sharon C. Cooper

  “Sorry about that.” Christina stuffed her cell phone back inside her large Coach bag. “PJ had been in meetings all afternoon and I needed to update her on certain aspects of the job I’ve been on.”

  “No problem. I’m glad you were able to meet me.” Their gazes collided, and the air was knocked out of him. Tonight she reminded him of the first time he had met her at Zack’s birthday party. Like then, he felt helpless in fighting his attraction to her. “I owe you an apology for the way I treated you the other night.”

  “You already apologized for that and actually, you don’t owe me anything.”

  “I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to hear anything you had to say. First of all, I was in shock from running into you, but also still a little pissed by the way we parted.”

  “And that was my fault. I could have handled that night in New York better than I had.” She stared down at her hands that were wrapped around her drink. She had ordered a cosmopolitan, which was interesting since she was usually a wine drinker. Luke watched as her fingers traced the condensation on the outside of the glass, remembering her soft touch against his body.

  He shifted in his seat, catching himself before he allowed his mind to travel back to a time when they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.

  “I never meant to hurt you,” she mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

  The attorney in Luke wanted to bombard her with question after question. He wanted, no he needed to talk about that night, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to dig deeper, ready to find out what she was hiding. It had to be her decision to share why she walked away from what they had. He wouldn’t push. Instead, he had to figure out whether or not she was worth fighting for. And if he had to decide at that moment, his answer would be a hell yeah.

  He moved his chair closer to Christina’s and looped his arm over her shoulders, his hand playing in her long tresses. Each time she moved, her hair swayed, and the scent of wildflowers tickled his nose. How many nights had he pulled her close to get a better whiff of her hair?

  “Where do we go from here?” he asked.

  Christina placed her hand on his thigh. The scorching heat from her touch sent a lightning bolt of need charging through his body.

  “I’ve missed you so much.”

  The desire in her eyes matched what he felt. Instead of responding, he placed a finger under her chin and pulled her closer. He did what he wanted to do the other night. His mouth touched hers first tentatively, but soon the softness of her lips had him begging for more, and he took what he wanted.

  He missed her too. He missed this - their connection, their ability to know what the other needed, and a willingness to supply those needs. Heat radiated through his body and the caress of her lips against his mouth, sent spirals of ecstasy shooting straight to his shaft. Her passionate moans, God he loved the sexy sounds she made, urging him on.

  Christina put her hands on each side of his face, and she pulled back slightly, resting her forehead against his. “Why don’t we get out of here?”

  *

  Christina was so horny she was about to lose her damn mind. Three months, three weeks and one day. That’s how long it had been since she’d been with Luke. Since she’d been with anyone. It didn’t help that he had just kissed her the same way he used to, thoroughly and completely. Making the lustful ache in her core throb that much more. She was wound so tight that if he put his hands or mouth on her at any point in the next few minutes, she couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t jump into his arms and beg him to make love to her.

  Even now, standing at the entrance to her building with him, her body pulsed with awareness. He didn’t even have to touch her. The heat from his presence did enough to send desire pumping through her veins.

  She unlocked the door. It had only taken them fifteen minutes to get to her loft, and she played Luke’s words around in her mind.

  Where do we go from here?

  She so wanted to make things right between them. Not just because the kiss they shared at the bar made her toes curl, and she never wanted the intense lip-lock to end, but because she missed him something terrible. She missed what they once had. Whether they could pick up where they left off remained to be seen.

  Christina led him to the elevator and punched in her code. Zack had paid a small fortune to have the elevator set up to only service the sixth floor.

  The doors finally slid open, and Christina stepped in. Luke stood in the hall looking as if he had no intention of taking the elevator, his arms folded across his chest.

  “You do know that this thing is a death trap don’t you? I can’t begin to tell you how many times Zack and I have been stuck on this piece of shit.”

  Christina grinned. “Actually, he did tell me a few stories.”

  “And you’re still using it?” He didn’t look too pleased, but it made Christina feel good to know that he cared about her. Either that or he was just afraid to get on.

  “Zack had it serviced before he sold me the loft. Besides, it has a telephone.” She pointed to the red phone near the up and down button. “He set up a direct link to 911.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Luke mumbled. Seeing that she wasn’t getting off, he stepped on. “I still don’t think it’s safe, especially when you’re by yourself.”

  The doors closed, and Luke pressed the up button. The elevator started its usual slow climb but jerked a little. Something it did each time Christina rode up to her loft. Luke glanced down at her and reached for her hand, pulling her closer to him. It took everything she had not to burst out laughing at the frown on his face.

  She lifted their joined hands, unable to keep the grin off her face. “Are you scared?”

  “Of course not. I’m holding your hand to make sure you’re not afraid.” His mouth twitched, fighting the smile that she knew lingered in the not so far distance.

  Christina leaned against the wall of the elevator and almost sighed when Luke’s thumb caressed the back of her hand. Considering how rigid he was standing, she didn’t think he realized that his touch was driving her nuts, sending a sweet tingle through her body. Stoking the flame that he had already started with the kiss he planted on her back at the bar. If he was holding her hand, maybe that was a good sign the relationship could be repaired. She knew he didn’t forgive easily, but maybe he had already forgiven her for the way things ended months ago. She could only hope.

  When the elevator finally came to a stop, and the doors opened, they stepped off and stood in the quiet hall. The sixth floor had once had two small units, but Zack had purchased both of them, combining them into one large space. The last time her cousin MJ had been there, she had commented that Zack should have had the elevator doors open right into the unit. Christina was glad he hadn’t. She liked the idea of having the hallway and a separate door to her loft. Any other way would have felt weird.

  “Come on in,” she said to Luke after unlocking the door and walking in. “Make yourself at home.”

  Luke strolled over to the floor to ceiling windows, something everyone did when they first walked in. The sheer curtains framing the windows of the main living space stayed open most of the time, no one could see directly into the loft.

  Christina set her handbag down and went into the kitchen. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?” They’d ordered an appetizer earlier and had a drink while at the bar, but she hadn’t had dinner and she assumed he hadn’t either.

  He turned to her. The seriousness radiating in his eyes, let her know this conversation wasn’t going to be easy. She diverted her gaze and let it trek down the length of his body. He had left his suit jacket in the car, and the sleeves of his white collared striped shirt had been rolled up to the center of his forearms. Now he was loosening his tie.

  “Water would be good, thanks. I like what you’ve done with the place. It looks like you.” He walked over and studied an abstract piece of art from her collection hanging on the living room wall. It blend
ed an array of colors also represented in the furniture as well as the accessories. “This place suits you. It’s warm,” he moved closer, his voice seductively deep, “and understated, sexy.”

  Christina swallowed hard. If he moved any closer, she was going to rip off his clothes and take matters into her own hands. Thankfully, he stopped at the edge of the breakfast bar. She fidgeted as his penetrating gaze bore into her, stoking a gently growing fire within her. Clearly he still affected her like no other man ever had.

  She slid his bottle of water closer to him, making sure not to touch his hand. If she kept her distance, she could get her thundering heart to settle down and not beat right out of her chest.

  “Thanks.” He took a hefty swig of the water. Maybe she wasn’t the only one experiencing a certain type of heat that had nothing to do with the temperature inside the loft.

  “So are you ready to tell me what happened back in New York?”

  No, is what she wanted to say, but she knew it was now or never.

  “I can show you better than I can tell you. Follow me.” She had her keys out and was standing near the locked bedroom door when she realized he hadn’t moved from his spot near the kitchen counter. They stood staring at each other and though she wasn’t sure what he was thinking, she could guess. At this point, he didn’t know what to expect from her. “I promise I won’t hurt you,” she cracked and pushed the door open, disappearing inside.

  Chapter Six

  Damn.

  The last thing Luke needed to do was follow Christina Jenkins into a bedroom. Any bedroom. The woman was like his kryptonite. It was already taking everything he had not to pull her in for another kiss. There was no way he would be able to keep his hands off of her in a bedroom. After the kiss at the bar, he was tempted to pull her into a nearby bathroom to finish what they had started. When she suggested they leave the bar, he followed behind her on autopilot. He would have followed her to the ends of the earth to indulge in whatever she offered.

  When Christina stepped into the bedroom, he took a deep breath and followed. She had said earlier that nothing would happen that he didn’t want to happen. Surely she knew him well enough to know what he wanted to happen.

  He stopped short at the open door, and his mouth went dry. This was not what he expected. Luke didn’t know how long he stood at the door gawking at what lay beyond the threshold.

  “I swear to you I never lied about anything except for when it concerned my work or the art shows.”

  Luke roamed around the intimate space. Some of Christina’s half-truths, like why she insisted they visit so many galleries each time she visited New York came to mind. He was sure that if he thought hard enough, other moments would trigger a memory of when she might have lied to him.

  Shocked by what he was seeing, and unsure at the same time, Luke stepped farther into the room. Paintings of all shapes and sizes, landscapes, abstract and even nudes littered every available space. Some were even sitting on top of drop cloths covering the floor and propped against the wall. But there was one piece that drew him like a magnet to metal. Breathtakingly striking, a masterpiece sat on an easel more magnificent than any work of art he had seen at any gallery.

  “If you haven’t guessed it yet, I’m Sasha Knight.”

  Well, I’ll be damned.

  So many instances of their times together made sense now. Luke didn’t know whether to be pissed by the fact that she had lied to him on more than one occasion or to bow down to her extraordinary talent. She had a gift, a serious gift if she had created everything in the room.

  He continued to peruse the artwork.

  “How long have you been painting?” He glanced over his shoulder, surprised to see her standing near the door, her bottom lip between her teeth, insecurity shining in her eyes. He had no idea what that expression was all about, but he planned to find out before he left there tonight. “I guess a better question would be, when did you start working with canvas?”

  She had once told him that she started her painter apprenticeship months after graduating from high school. But this, his gaze swept over the paintings again, this went way beyond anything an apprenticeship could offer.

  “I’ve always been fascinated with art, either drawing or paintings. I didn’t start getting serious about my work until about five years ago.” She had taken a few steps toward him, but still kept her distance.

  Luke had an overwhelming desire to reach for her hand and pull her closer, but he resisted. The fact remained she had lied to him. But, why?

  “When I first started, I did one or two projects a year for fun. I had entered an art contest just for the heck of it, and this woman called and said she was an agent. She told me she had an offer I couldn’t refuse. One thing led to another, and two years ago I had my first show in Chicago.” She touched the edge of a canvas that was leaning against a paint-splattered chair. “Before I knew it, I had completed four shows with my fifth one only a month away.”

  “That seems like a lot in such a short amount of time,” Luke said absently and turned back to her work, one piece in particular pulling at his attention. A nude. Though parts of the faces were shown, he couldn’t make out the specifics of their facial features. Christina had used black, white, gray and beige paint to cast a slight shadow over some of the couple’s contours, but revealed enough of their bodies for an observer to clearly make out what was going on. The longer Luke stared at the painting, the more he recognized the scene. New York. The blues of the bathroom tile behind the couple and the rectangular rainfall showerhead were identical to the doublewide shower in his Fifth Avenue apartment in Manhattan.

  Luke rubbed a hand over his chest as if the simple move would slow his pounding heart. The thought that Christina had replicated one of the most provocative lovemaking sessions he had ever experienced sent heat soaring through his body.

  His eyes took in more details. Water cascaded over the couple’s naked bodies from the overhead shower as the man held one of the woman’s shapely legs around his waist. The profile of the guy’s head was visible. Luke could make out the intensity on the man’s face as he made love to the woman.

  The painting had captured just enough to take him back to that morning as if it were yesterday. He could still hear the same heart-pounding music pumping through the bathroom speakers, spurring him on as he slid in and out of Christina’s sweet heat. Their moans intermingled with every thrust as he went deeper, harder, rocking her body as if his life depended on bringing her to climax over and over again. He remembered not being able to get enough of her.

  “Is this one for sale?” he asked, his voice raspy with desire. The passion and the intensity between the couple leaped off the canvas. The visual combined with Luke’s memory of that morning he and Christina had shared made his body throb with a need that threatened his sanity.

  That day would forever be engrained in his mind. Not because of the intense lovemaking in the shower. No. It had everything to do with the night before when he realized he had fallen in love with Christina. Instead of voicing his feelings for her right then, the next morning in the shower he had attempted to show her just what he felt, sharing all the emotions that were sieving through his veins. The memory had his body thrumming with desire, willing and ready to pay whatever she wanted for the painting.

  Luke took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying like hell to hold it together. Once he felt his heart rate and that twinge of irritation for the hell he had experienced over the last few months subside, he turned to her.

  “It’s not for sale,” she said before he could open his mouth again.

  Their eyes met. Clearly, the painting had the same effect on her. But no way could it mean more to her than it meant to him. Little did she know, but the picture depicted a defining moment in his life. The only time he had ever admitted to himself that he was in love with a woman. In love with Christina.

  As if knowing he was about to make her an offer of an obscene amount of money for the painti
ng, she shook her head no, never taking her eyes from his.

  First to break eye contact, he studied the painting again. How she managed to capture that moment – that intense, earth-shattering moment, so perfectly blew his mind. No one but them would ever be able to tell who the models were and that made him realize something else. She had done the piece by memory.

  Absolutely breathtaking.

  Finally pulling himself away, he stepped to another nude painting of a man, leaning against a fireplace mantle, a drink in his hand. Tastefully done, she revealed just enough of his body but left plenty for the imagination. And next to that painting, a naked woman holding a red scarf that draped loosely across her breasts, and slid between her opened thighs. The material covered the most intimate parts of the woman’s body, but still left enough of her exposed to keep the observer wondering what lay beneath.

  “So why nudes?”

  “Why not?” Christina’s words loaded with attitude shot across the room faster than the speed of light.

  Luke lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not complaining. I’m even thinking about commissioning you to paint something for my place. I just wonder why the change. Your earlier work was landscapes and abstract. Then all of a sudden, you’re doing a show of all nudes.” Again, his mind took him back to that last night in New York. It was no wonder she had wanted to stay longer. She, Sasha Knight, had been the featured artist.

  Sasha Knight. She’s Sasha Knight. He couldn’t wrap his brain around this new information.

  “The human body fascinates me.” Christina stepped over to another nude hanging on the wall. A couple staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. In the painting, the woman’s hand rested against the man’s jaw and one of the man’s hands on her hip. “Body parts, skin tones, and even one’s imperfections. All of it. Fascinating.”

  Luke stared at the painting, noticing the slight love handles on the male figure. The dark discoloration around the woman’s elbow and her slightly sagging breast were real. When he first looked at the painting, he zoned in on the pose and the way the couple touched each other. The tenderness of the scene so evident, he hadn’t noticed any imperfections.