by Opal Carew
Obliging Jolie tried.
“You’re turning blue.”
Obviously not successfully.
“Breathe, Jolie.”
She shimmied the cap sleeve back into place, allowing the neckline to reclaim its position and Lungs inhaled.
“Did you get it?” She rubbed where the neckline had chafed her throat.
“No,” he sighed and it was a heartbreaker. “I didn’t have enough time.”
“Can’t you just draw a line with a little hook on the end?”
He quirked that eyebrow again and her tummy shifted. “How about if you stick to cooking and I’ll stick to painting? Of course I can’t draw a line with a little hook on the end. Your body’s not a roadmap.”
Though it could lead to some interesting places.
But she was mum on the subject. Which could be because she was incapable of speech at the thought of him discovering those interesting places.
“No, I need the image. Maybe if I were used to painting the human form, but it’s been a long time.” He looked around the studio. “Maybe if we… “ He left the easel to rummage in a pile of drop cloths by the sofa. “Aha.” He flourished a—gee, what a surprise—drop cloth her way.
She arced an eyebrow at him. (Hmmm, she’d picked up that little trick of his.)
“For you.” He gave the cloth a little fling like he was shaking water from it.
“Obviously. The reason is unclear, though.”
“To wear.”
“Sorry, Todd, but I believe my budget allows for something slightly more expensive and with more coverage than a towel. I may have lost everything in the fire, but I believe clothing can be purchased.”
He exhaled. “Jolie, for today. Right now. Take off your shirt and wrap this around you. Then I can see your collarbone, the shadows there, and get the proper perspective to your shoulder.”
He was looking pretty pleased with himself, but Jolie was still at “take off your shirt.” Somehow she’d hoped if this day ever came that there’d be a few murmured words, perhaps a kiss or two, maybe even some help with said shirt, but apparently not. She got the doctor’s orders version. Take off your shirt and cough.
Did wonderful things for her libido.
Not.
“Is this really necessary?” she grumbled as she rose from the sofa.
“Yes, it is. Now where’s Good Sport Jolie today?” He teased a reluctant smile to her face.
“She wants to go shopping with Spendthrift Jolie and make sure they have enough of a wardrobe to never need to wear a drop cloth again.” She yanked her new apparel out of his hands. “Turn around.”
Boots was asleep on the comfy chair—apparently Mr. Meddler didn’t find nudity a reason to interrupt them. That cat’s priorities were a bit skewed.
She shrugged out of her shirt, whipped the bra off and the towel around her in one motion so quick it’d make Boots’s head spin if he were even watching. But the little turncoat was snoring.
“Okay, I’m ready.” She resumed her position on the sofa.
Todd turned around. “Grea—”
He stopped mid-word and she stopped mid-breath at the heat burning in his eyes. She knew that look. Had seen it up close and personal.
The silence in the room was booming.
Todd recovered first, though the state of that recovery was in serious question. He snapped his jaw shut, ran a hand over his mouth, then puffed out a long breath. “Okay, then. That should do it.”
Do it? Do what? Naughty Girl could conjure a whole lot “it”s to do.
“Now, ahem, Jolie.” Todd settled on his stool. “Can you, um, lower your left shoulder a little? That’s it. Now roll it forward, yeah, like that. Tilt your chin up and back. No, a little lower. There. Um, could you, um, drape a few strands of your hair over your shoulder? Not that many. Okay, that’s good.” He shifted, resting a heel on the rung of the stool. “Could you, that is, could you have it, move it a little to the right? You know, sort of resting across your, um, breast, rather than alongside it?”
He picked a good spot for her hair. It could cover the nipple poking through the thin fabric. The nipple he’d fondled—
“Like this?” She willed Naughty Girl away.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he rasped out, “that’ll do.”
It sure did “do.” She was a mass of fluttering nerve endings about to combust. And if his blazing green eyes were anything to go by, he was right there with her.
And she did wish he were there with her. But he was ten feet away behind a tripod of wood and canvas and charcoal. An amazing barrier when she thought about it. So flimsy physically, but metaphorically as strong as a castle wall.
Castle walls have been breached before.
She wasn’t going there.
The temperature was up in the studio, though cold air blasted from the air conditioner. A fine sheen graced Todd’s forehead and her body was damp in some pretty provocative places, her skin and his eyes separated by one very thin, very flimsy piece of cotton. Talk about a turn-on.
If only she knew where she stood with him. Obviously he was attracted to her, and she knew he liked kissing her, knew he liked her, but did he like her like that? Or was she just the woman in the right place when his hormones came out of hibernation?
“Todd?”
“Hmm?” The charcoal rasped over the canvas.
“What will you do with these pictures once you get them the way you want them?”
“I don’t know. I’ll probably just end up painting over them.” He rubbed a finger on the sketch.
“Do you think… that is… could I have one?” That got his attention. “It’s just that no one’s ever painted me before and I think it’d be kind of cool to have one.”
“A Todd Best original?”
“Well, sure, since you’re painting it, but no, that’s not why. I’ve just never had a portrait done and it’s something all mine that I can take with me when I get a new apartment.”
“Jolie, I told you. You don’t need to get a new apartment. The room’s yours.” He looked back at the canvas, smudging something else. Why couldn’t she at least take a peek?
“But what about when I get another job?”
His arm stopped and he leaned back, poking his head around, his brows vee-ing inward. “Are you quitting?”
“Of course not. I never quit, remember? I’m talking about when you, you know, don’t need me here anymore. You said yourself you don’t need someone to cook for you. Once I’ve overstayed my welcome, I’ll need my own apartment and a new job. I’d like to have one of these pictures as a souvenir. To remember this by.” She almost said, “remember you,” but caught herself at the last minute. It wasn’t like she’d ever forget him.
He put down the charcoal and stood. “Jolie, I can’t see you wearing out your welcome for quite a while. And I’ve also told you I like having you around, and that I have four unused bedrooms and my house needs some life in it. You have enough life in you for ten people. And have you forgotten what I said when I kissed you? Why would you insist on thinking I’m going to want you to leave?”
Maybe because in her world good things were always too good to be true. But he didn’t see that in her so no way was she going to point it out. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s, well, that is…”
“What?” He walked around the easel.
“Well, what if you find… you know… someone? You’re not going to want me around. And she, um, she’s sure as heck not going to want me around.”
“Ah.” He sat next to her on the sofa, the not-very-wide sofa, and traced her cheek with his fingertips. “Jolie, I’m not going to find someone. Not now.”
“You can’t know that.”
“But I’m not looking, so I can know it.”
She shook her head. “But that’s when it happens, Todd. The minute you stop looking is when you find them.”
The words sat between them and Todd’s fingers stilled as he replayed her words.
<
br /> Once again, she’d put his life into perspective.
Her violet eyes darkened to plum as they widened, her lips forming a small “O” and he realized—
She was right. He had found someone. Without even looking.
The revelation settled on him like oils on canvas, smooth and rich with vibrant color.
He traced her mouth. “Jolie. I told you I have no idea where this thing between us is going, but if it is going anywhere, I’m not going to be looking for someone else.” Her eyes widened. He hadn’t read this wrong. She was as attracted to him as he was her. He knew that. But was she thinking along the lines he was? Hell, he’d been out of this new-relationship dance for too long.
But if he had to take the dance floor, there was no one else he’d rather waltz with than her. “For all intents and purposes, Jolie, you’re the one. That’s all I can promise right now. That and the fact that I don’t want to find another woman. Okay?”
Her smile burst into the room, radiating her warmth through every part of it. Trista had never lived in this house, had never visited this studio. With that one smile, with the acceptance and joy in it, Jolie forever imprinted her essence, that thing he wanted to capture, in this room and in his home.
And his heart.
“Meow.”
And now the cat decided to wake up.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jonathan Griff yawned and stretched his paws out in front of him, kneading the pungent earth beneath the rose bushes as the sun hit the garden the next morning. Life was good. Jolie and Todd were on the road to a forever after, Jasmine was aware her prayers had been answered, and if he didn’t quite feel his wing buds starting to grow, at least his eye twitch had stopped.
All in all, everything was going according to plan.
Well, he’d had to improvise a bit. Jolie and Todd had been getting a little too hot and heavy before they’d delved into the deeper issues facing them. Sure, making love could move things along, but it’d also make things more tenuous. More complicated. The old does-she/doesn’t-he dilemma. He didn’t want them to have to face those questions just yet. Best they figure out where they stood, then take that big step.
Then there was the fact that Jasmine was a little too helpful, always showing up at just the wrong moment, and he’d had to intervene before she saw something she really hadn’t needed to see. He’d been planning to have a discussion with her about her “helpfulness” last night, but by the time she and Earl had left, it’d almost been today and everyone had sacked out immediately. Separately. They’d sacked out separately. Jonathan had been a little disappointed, but, then again, those two needed to move at their own pace. They both had so much to overcome.
In the meantime, since his chaperon services were only necessary to run interference with Jasmine now, he decided to just hang out here and enjoy the sunshine and let Mother Nature take her course where Jolie and Todd were concerned. After all, Mother Nature had kept the human race in existence for all these years.
***
“Where’s the kitty from hell today?” Todd asked as Jolie settled herself on the sofa for the morning.
“Actually, I think he’s more heaven-sent.”
“And what, pray tell, has given you that idea? He’s carrying his own pitchfork around with him—four of them, actually.” Todd swiped at his shoulder in memory.
She wagged a finger Todd’s way, enjoying the new depth between them, the new camaraderie and understanding. And kisses. Definitely the kisses. “If it weren’t for his interruptions we’d probably be visiting Mrs. Gray in the cardiac unit. She has walked in at some pretty momentous moments if you recall.”
“Oh I recall all right.” His smile was as broad as his shoulders.
“Stop that.” She tossed a pillow at him. “Or you’re not going to get your sketching quota done today. Besides, aren’t you finished yet? When does the paint go on?”
“Jolie, this isn’t paint-by-numbers.” He tossed the pillow back and she executed a one-arm catch that’d make a quarterback proud. “I can’t put a timetable on it. I won’t start with color until I’m ready.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll just turn into an old maid on your sofa.”
“Hardly. Now, enough with the drama. Hold still.”
And so it went. She never had the chance to tell Todd that Boots wasn’t with her for the simple fact that she couldn’t find him when she was heading out to the studio. Of course, she didn’t get to tell Todd much of anything because of that no-talk rule.
And she really wanted to talk. Well, that wasn’t what she really wanted to do, but what she really wanted to do wasn’t quite appropriate at this stage in their relationship.
Relationship. There, she’d said it. They had a relationship. A fledgling one, yes, and perhaps a bit tentative, but she was “the one” for him (even if it was just for this moment in time), and he was most definitely “The One” for her, the caps saying it all. If she could just get this stuff on paper, it’d make the perfect poignant moment for her hero and heroine.
“Todd?” He hadn’t looked at her in recent memory and, really, he had to know what she looked like by now. “Do you mind if I call it quits? You haven’t looked up in the last half hour and I’ve got a few things to do. You don’t need me here, do you?”
It was to her eternal chagrin that he didn’t get the innuendo at all in that question and waved her from the room. Fine. She tied up the straps to her halter top (no longer needing to use a drop cloth since this style of top performed the same function though in a more socially acceptable way), slipped her feet back into her tan sandals, and closed the door behind her.
Now, before yesterday, she might have been in a bit of a dump since he’d elected to barely respond, but with what he’d said yesterday in that very same spot, well, she couldn’t ask for more than that.
Okay, actually, she could ask for more, but it wouldn’t be the right time. He was still healing and she, well, she was still leery. But willing to risk it.
Because the reward was so worth it.
Which was why she wanted to get it on paper in her story. No longer was she going to try to publish Annie and Tom’s story—oh who was she kidding? It was hers and Todd’s, thinly veiled, and she was going to watch that happy ending come true.
She opened the door to the kitchen.
“Now, Jonathan,” Mrs. Gray was saying, “I really can’t see—oh hello, dear.” Mrs. Gray gathered… Boots? off the kitchen table and spun around.
“Mrs. Gray? The cat’s name is Boots.” Jolie removed the kitty from her arms. “And where have you been, you little monster?”
“Oh dear, that’s no way to talk to your… er… cat.” Mrs. Gray’s hands were all flippy. “Besides, um, Boots was just keeping me company.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I thought he might have run away.”
Mrs. Gray laughed as if it was the funniest idea she’d ever heard. “Oh, I highly doubt that.” She poured out a bowl of milk and added a touch of vanilla.
“I don’t know that the vanilla is such a good idea, Mrs. Gray.”
She went to pick Boots up to keep him away from it, but Mrs. Gray shook her head. “Nonsense, dear, that’s how he likes it.”
Boots made a beeline for the bowl, proving her right.
All the same, Jolie was glad she’d bought the glycerin-based version, otherwise they’d be making an emergency trip to the vet since any other kind could be kitty hemlock.
“You’re here early today, Mrs. Gray.” Jolie leaned back on her elbows on the granite surface, crossing one ankle over the other.
“I have some catching up to do.” Mrs. Gray refolded the dishtowels on the countertop.
“Catching up on what? The house is spotless.” No doubt due to the bi-monthly cleaning company Jolie had recently found the receipt for.
“Oh, a few things around the house, that’s all.” She placed all but one of the dishtowels in a drawer by the sink then turned to Jolie. “And what are you doi
ng back so soon? You two aren’t usually finished in there until just before lunch.”
Jolie pushed off the island and walked around it, absently straightening the barstools. “Oh, I got bored. And restless. It’s so blah in there, staring at the window.”
“The window? Why on earth would you stare at the window when you’ve got a perfectly good specimen of a man in front of you?” Mrs. Gray huffed and grabbed the remaining dishtowel, shaking it like she was cleaning an area rug. “Honestly! What is the world coming to today when two attractive young people, together for hours on end, studiously ignore one another? What do I have to do? Lock you in a broom closet together?”
Jolie was halfway to the fridge when those words had her spinning back around and plunking her butt on a barstool. “What?”
Mrs. Gray shoved her hand to her hip and wiped some wisps of hair off her face. “What what?”
“What you just said. What did you mean?”
Mrs. Gray patted her bun and her eyes got all squinty. “Oh, nothing, dear. Just the ramblings of an old woman. Don’t pay me any mind.” She frittered her fingers. “Just go about what you were doing. Doesn’t mean anything at all. Really.” She whirled around, refolding the dishtowel again.
“I’m not buying that, Mrs. Gray.”
Mrs. Gray’s shoulders slumped as she rested her hands on the edge of the sink. “Fine. It’s just—” she took a deep breath—”it’s just that it’s been over two years. And he’s so… I don’t know, alone? No—lonely.” She looked over her shoulder. “There’s a difference you know, alone and lonely.”
Jolie knew. Firsthand.
Mrs. Gray turned all the way around. “And, well, you were available and alone, too. The two of you could use someone like each other in your lives.”
“Wait a minute. I’ve never met you before, Mrs. Gray. How do you know this about me?”
And there Mrs. Gray went, spinning back to the sink. “Oh, well, you know, from your employment application at Domestic Gods & Goddesses.”
“How do you know I work there?” Jolie was pretty sure that’d never come up in conversation. She recalled mentioning it only to Mike and Barbie.
