by Hart, Taylor
He thought about Marissa throwing her arms around him at the gallery, about Elena actually letting him buy her painting. Even though she’d told him that painting of her mother wasn’t for sale, it hadn’t been that hard to convince her to sell it to him. Marissa had helped too.
Elena walked into the loft with a coy expression, toweling off the paint on her hands. She turned to the canvas he’d just put up on the wall next to the door. “I can’t believe you talked me into storing it for you.”
Warmth filled the center of Blaine’s chest. It hadn’t been hard to convince her, especially when he played the military “I don’t have a home” card. Turning to the stove, he pulled the lid off the pan and flipped the steaks. “I appreciate you accommodating me more than you know.”
“I bet you do.” She sauntered into the kitchen and then paused next to him, inhaling loudly. “This smells so good.”
Glancing at her, he noticed how close she stood. He noticed everything about her: the smell of coconut and paint, the way her red hair looked so natural pulled back with the paint sticks in that loose bun she stuck it in, the way her green eyes reflected in the setting sun. Unable to stop himself, he put the lid back on the pan and put down the fork he was holding, reaching his other hand for hers. “You smell good too.” He leaned into her.
When their hands met, it was electric, and she didn’t pull away. “You’re smelling me,” she giggled.
He inhaled the scent of her neck. “Oh, yeah.”
She pushed against him. “You smell pretty good too.” He’d insisted they stop at a department store down the street so he could buy some jeans and T-shirts, and then he’d showered.
Liking the compliment, he wrapped his arms around her. “Really?” He realized what he’d wanted to do all day was touch her, kiss her, be with her.
The moment turned slow, and the edges of her lips curved up. “Pretty sneaky of you, coming into the gallery and getting Marissa on your side to convince me to sell you that painting.”
Sensing that she liked it, he tugged her closer, putting his other hand on her waist. He scrunched his nose. “Not sneaky.”
She laughed. “Yes, it was.” She tried to push against his chest, but he used her movement to keep her close, tightening his hold on her.
“Desperate, really.” He searched her eyes.
“You were desperate for my painting?” she asked, staring at his lips, then his eyes.
Carefully, he leaned in, brushing his lips to hers. “Among other things.” He pulled back.
She stared at him. Her breath quickened.
Blaine leaned in again, slowly kissing her this time, starting with the upper lip and moving gently down to the bottom lip. Then he waited.
Her lips opened, and he kissed her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he was lost. Lost in this woman. Lost in this moment. Lost like he’d never been before.
Abruptly, she pulled back, keeping her arms around his neck. “You’re leaving.”
Her words sliced through him, and he wished he could deny it. Wished he could promise he would never leave her arms. “I am,” he said.
Slowly, she pulled her arms back and moved to the kitchen sink.
For a beat, he hesitated before grabbing the plates already perfectly set and placing a steak on each plate. “We’re ready.”
They sat together, and he could tell she was trying to regain her composure.
“Do you do this a lot?” she asked, meeting his eyes.
“What?”
Her eyes fluttered. “Go places, meet women, have flings, and then go back to wherever you go?”
A low laugh came out of him. If she only knew how boring he was. “Is this a fling, then?”
Her cheeks turned red. “That’s not what I—”
“No,” he confessed.
“No?”
“I don’t have flings. Well, last year, for the first time ever, I met a woman, and I guess I had a relationship.”
Elena frowned. “Really?”
Blaine didn’t like the way this conversation had turned. “Only lasted three months, so I guess it doesn’t really count.”
“Hmm.” She gave him an evaluating stare.
“Can we pray, please?” He put his hand out to her.
Lightly, she put her hand into his. “Okay.”
He gave a little prayer on the food, then let her hand go.
“This looks amazing,” she said, picking up her fork and stabbing the salad.
Cutting up his steak, he nodded to the homemade blue cheese dressing he’d made. “You have to try the dressing.”
She took the container of dressing, drizzled some on her salad, and tapped it with her fork, placing it on the tip of her tongue. “Wow.”
“I aim to please.”
She laughed and took a bigger bite of salad and dressing.
They ate in silence until she asked, “So how long was your longest relationship?”
Uncomfortable with this line of questioning, but wanting to ask questions of his own, he said, “Haven’t you heard that the best way to end a relationship is to start one with a Navy SEAL?”
A not very amused look darkened her face. “Awesome.” She cut up her steak and closed her eyes. “This is good.”
At least they had good food, he surmised.
“You’re avoiding the question.”
He sighed. “I told you, three months.”
Looking skeptical, she shrugged. “Okay.”
He didn’t know what she meant, but it felt like she’d decided something. “Why didn’t you marry Antonio?” he asked between bites. The question had been plaguing him all day, in the back of his mind. “You said he’d been there for you since your mother died. Why did you … decide he wasn’t the man for you?”
“Oh.” Her brow furrowed, and she looked down at her hands. “He insulted my painting.”
Blaine knew this was the part in the mission he had to tread carefully. “You mentioned that, but I think there’s more to the story.”
Her face scrunched up. “It’s going to sound awful.”
Now, he wanted to know even more. “I’m not going to be here that long, remember? You don’t have to care how it sounds. You can just tell me.”
Briefly, she closed her eyes, then flipped them back open. “I guess that’s true. Antonio’s been in and out of my life for four years. I met him when I was a senior at Yale. I had just finished art school, and he had just graduated from law school. He was interning for my father during his first campaign.”
Blaine analyzed this information. “Only four years and already chief of staff. He does pretty good.”
“Antonio’s good at making himself indispensible,” Elena said quietly. “We dated a bit over the first few years, but there wasn’t any spark there. When my mother passed last year …”
“He was there,” Blaine filled in for her. “Smart.” Blaine didn’t really like the guy, but he had to hand it to him: being there was one way to get a girl.
“I was in a black hole, and I hate to say this, but he was good at figuring out what I needed before I knew what I needed.”
“He managed you just like he managed your father.”
Elena touched her head, cringing. “I’ve known I don’t love him for a while. I’ve felt guilty, because he does solve problems. When he threatened the gallery, he was right. It’s been a learning curve with my mother passing. I’ve been left to the day-to-day operations. I haven’t known how to keep it running, so I’ve needed financial support.” She picked up her napkin and touched the edges of her lips, then stood. “Antonio’s always made sure I get the money I need from my father.” She started some water in the sink.
Blaine got up and cleared their dishes, moving with her into the kitchen and clearing plates.
Both of them worked to clean the kitchen. He ended up next to her, drying the dishes she washed.
“I don’t know why Mama had to die.” She said it so innocently, so childlike.
> Blaine softened. He wanted to hold her, but he also wanted her to feel like she could fix her own life too. “Can you sell the gallery?”
“What?” She stopped washing, giving him a crazy look.
“Sorry, I just thought—”
“That gallery was my mother’s life’s work.” Her voice was shaky. “Every painting sold is a legacy to her.”
“Sorry,” he said again.
They lapsed back into silence. He wondered if she was done talking. She finished the last dish and rinsed the sink, and Blaine finished drying and stacking the dishes.
Elena moved into the living room and stood in front of the painting that Blaine had bought.
Blaine didn’t know if he should join her, but just like that first night, he found himself unable to not join this woman. He moved next to her side and stared up at it.
“I’ve never felt connected,” Elena said softly, reaching out a hand and lightly tracing the lines of the painting in the air. “Except to my mother. And to my art.” She sighed. “I’ve never really cared to have close friends, because I had my mother. My mother needed me too. My father has a very demanding career.” She hesitated, then turned to him. “You and me, whatever this is … confuses me.”
Blaine gently took her hand. “It confuses me too.”
“I was thinking today that maybe that’s why we connected that first night, in the gallery. Because we’re the same.” She let out a light laugh and put her hand to her forehead.
“The same?” He questioned.
“Both a bit lost.” Her eyes widened.
He squeezed her hand. “And now we’re found.”
Her eyes fluttered. “There’s that word again. Found.”
“It’s a good word.” He wanted to hold her, claim her, be whatever this woman needed for the rest of his life, but he didn’t know what that was yet.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Finally, she asked, “Did you find what the key went to?”
A bit embarrassed, he said, “Nope.”
She frowned. “Really? Did you go to your father’s place?”
“Couldn’t stomach that today.” If it were anyone else, he would be embarrassed to admit that, but somehow, he wasn’t with her.
A small smile crossed her face. She reached out and lightly touched his cheek.
Desire burned through him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, tugging her hand back.
Blaine took both of her hands into his and leaned in, lightly brushing her lips in a kiss.
The air thickened between them, and she pulled back, swallowing. “Wait. You should know Antonio and I never …” She trailed off and then looked pointedly into his eyes. “I don’t trifle with love. I don’t take intimacy lightly. You should know I’ve never been with anyone.”
It surprised him. Sure, he’d gathered from Antonio’s words that they hadn’t been together, but he hadn’t expected she’d never been with anyone.
“Maybe it’s archaic, but my mother taught me I should wait for marriage.” Her eyes held his. “So I am.”
His respect for her grew even more. “That’s … great.”
She dropped his hand. “I think I should go to my side of the room.”
“Probably,” he concurred, not remembering a time when he’d dated a girl who’d actually cared about waiting until marriage. Unable to resist, he took her hand back and pulled her to him. “But kissing’s fine, right?”
Letting out a light laugh, she went on her tiptoes and closed the distance between them.
The kiss was fire and passion and everything he saw in this artist’s paintings. He kept her close, staring into her eyes for a long time.
Just as fast as she’d leaned up, she was pulling back. She moved toward her sleeping area. “Good night.”
His heart thumped. Yes, being close to Elena was risky. There was a pull between them. One he’d never felt before. “Good night,” he called out, feeling out of sorts.
“Blaine.”
He turned to see her looking back. “Yeah.”
“What if I go with you to your dad’s tomorrow? We’ll see if we can get the key and his stuff all sorted out.”
He liked the idea of her being with him. “That would be great.”
She winked at him. “See you in the morning, soldier.”
He lay on the futon and took in slow, calming breaths, forcing himself to settle down. Squeezing his eyes shut, he commanded himself to go to sleep. It was refreshing to be around a woman who had standards. But dang, did he have to be this attracted to her? Did he have to have this kind of pull to her? And the woman had issues. Daddy issues. Mommy issues. An ex that was barely an ex.
Ugh. It was all so confusing, but he couldn’t stop the smile on his face. He thought about how love always felt complicated and messy. He thought of poor Romeo, how he’d killed himself when he thought Juliet was dead. He grinned wider and mumbled, “Stupid kid, stabbed yourself too fast. Should have checked the vitals closer. Rookie mistake.”
“Did you say something?” she called out from across the room.
It made him smile that she was paying attention to his stirrings as much as he was paying attention to her. “Nope.”
Chapter 9
Blaine woke the next morning and found he’d slept in like the first night he’d stayed. That was so not like him. He threw back the covers and heard the sounds of oldies from the jukebox wafting in.
Picking up his phone, he noted it was almost ten. Dang. He was completely off his routine. He combed a hand over his face. What was it about being in this apartment that relaxed him so much? Strike that—he hadn’t been very relaxed last night when he couldn’t stop thinking of the woman across the room.
He stared at the key on the coffee table next to him and thought about different places they could hit today to figure out what it went to. Annoyance rippled over him. He didn’t want to go from bus station to bus station or storage unit.
He got up and walked to the kitchen, noting she hadn’t made coffee. Unable to resist thinking how much she liked that boutique coffee, he threw on a T-shirt, put on his shoes, and grabbed his wallet. He decided he didn’t mind being her coffee boy.
When he got to the coffee shop, the same girl was there from the previous times he’d been in.
She gave him a wink. “Morning,” she said. “You want the same as last time?”
He dropped a ten in her tip jar. “Yep.”
“Thank you.” She pushed some buttons on the cash register. “Becoming a regular.”
He didn’t like getting recognized. “Not really.”
“Two times in three days, that’s how it starts.” She smiled. “Would you like to go out sometime?”
“Oh.” He hadn’t been expecting this. It’d been forever since someone asked him out. It was flattering, but he wasn’t interested in any woman other than the one he was getting coffee for. He didn’t think he could handle much more than her. “Sorry, can’t.”
She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him. “I guess if you come back tomorrow, I’ll ask you out again.”
Aggressive, he thought as he waited for the coffee and nodded at her.
Finally, he headed back to the apartment with two coffees in hand, typed in the code, and stepped inside the elevator.
The apartment was still empty, and he could hear the tunes from the deck. Dropping his wallet onto the coffee table, he vowed he would get things sorted at his father’s place today and get the rest of his clothes right after coffee time with Elena.
Excitement pulsed through him. He liked the idea of coffee time. He could get used to coffee time. Could get used to sleeping in and waking up to a beautiful woman, T-shirts, and sunshine on her red hair that was pulled into a messy bun held together with paint sticks. He pushed the door open to the outside painting patio and saw just that.
He stared up at the canvas, recognizing the figure as himself. The jawline, the eyes. He was flattered. “Hey,” he called out.
>
Jolting, she turned. “Uh, hi.”
He grinned, liking that she was so consumed in her work that she really hadn’t heard him. “Sorry to startle you.”
She studied him with a smile as he unabashedly met her gaze. “No, I don’t think you are sorry.”
He closed the gap between them, holding out the coffee. “Okay, maybe it’s fun to surprise you. I brought your favorite, my lady.”
Her lip tugged up, and she went for her bucket of water, plunging her hands into it. “Oh my gosh, you saved my life.”
Taking the compliment, even though it was ridiculous, he waited.
She got done washing off and used a colorful rag to dry her hands before reaching for the coffee, tentatively pulling it to her lips. “Charlie’s is the best, right?”
Hating that he enjoyed pleasing her so much, he shrugged and took a sip of … yes, fine, the remarkably good coffee. “It’s looking good.” He nodded to the painting.
Wiggling her nose, she scrupulously inspected his face. “I haven’t worked on the dimple yet. I haven’t decided if it fits the motif.”
“Dimple?” he asked. He didn’t have a dimple.
She giggled. “You so have a dimple. I saw it last night.”
“Fat guys have dimples,” he said, meeting her eyes, unable to hold back his laughter at her antics.
“No, they don’t. Cute guys have dimples.”
He wanted to pull her in and kiss her, to make her giggle again. Man, how much did he love just standing here with her, drinking coffee, talking about nothing?
Caught off guard, he found her leaning in, and then he found his lips on hers, tasting coffee. Reflexively, he put his hand on her hip and pulled her flush against him, loving the feel of her.
He hated how it felt like any moment they had together was stolen and not enough. Taking his time—knowing now that there were boundaries actually made him feel like he could press the boundaries more—he deepened the kiss just a bit and felt her respond, leaning in closer to him.
“Hmm,” she muttered.
It was almost more than he could bear, and he laughed a little before putting pressure on her hip to push her back.
She giggled when they parted, and he saw the mischief in her eyes and couldn’t stop from laughing too.
