by Wendi Zwaduk
“Everyone wants to curry his favor.”
“Maybe that’s my problem,” Catherine said and left the sofa. “I don’t want to curry my father’s favor. He doesn’t know what to do with me.” She faced her lady. “The other issue is that I don’t have enough authentic people in my life. Everyone seems to want to know a princess or wants to get their sticky hands on the title. No one ever asks me what I like or if I have thoughts on things.”
Corrine crossed her ankles. “You’re a princess, honey. It’s going to be hard.”
“I know.”
“But I get what you mean.” Corinne stood, then hugged Catherine. “It’s hard to get to know you when your stepmother lurks, Elmore hangs on and you’re not alone. It’s also difficult because you’re right, no one ever asks you what you want out of life.”
“I know,” she said. She rested her head on Corinne’s shoulder and closed her eyes. Her life had become more complicated. Time to start working on the next steps. She opened her eyes. “So, we need a cover story.”
“We do?”
“Yes, and I’ve been thinking about what we should say. You’re my older sister—older by two years—and we’re living together to save money.” Catherine nodded. “I’m finishing my degree and you’re working.”
“I am working—as your lady—and I am two years older.” Corinne frowned. “Are you sure this is going to work?”
“Nope.” She paced the length of the apartment. “So, you’re my sister and we’re here so I can finish school. You’ll still be Corinne, but I’ll go by my middle name—Zara—just in case anyone thinks they’ve figured out who I am.”
“Zara?”
“Uh-huh.” She rubbed her hands together. “Why? What’s wrong with my middle name?”
“Nothing. I’m just not used to using it.” Corinne shrugged. “You know this is the smartest thing you’ve ever done.”
“Is it?” She hadn’t expected Corinne to say such a thing. “You usually talk me out of stuff.”
“I do, but this is different. You’re out, you’re experiencing life and you’ve taken charge. It’s what a leader does and I’m proud of you.” Corinne hugged her again. “I’m also tired. See you in the morning?”
“Sure. I’d like to look around campus, so I’ll probably head out early for a walk. It’s not weird to want to look around, right?” Catherine asked. She had to be Zara. If she wanted to be described by a new name, then she had to act that way.
“By yourself?” Corinne stopped short. “You can’t do that.”
“You do realize I’ll have to go to class alone, right?” She’d have her security out of sight but within reach if she needed it.
“I guess you will, but it seems risky.”
“I’ll be fine, but I’ve already set up security agents—three that aren’t attached to the palace—and I’ll have my phone.” She nodded. She’d seen the guards lingering around the building. If she were most adventurous, she’d make a play for one of them. Her father would have a coronary, though.
“Okay, but this isn’t Lysianna. You can’t scream royalty and privilege if you get a ticket or get into trouble,” Corinne said. She frowned and rested her hands on her hips. “Be smart.”
“I will.” She sat on the sofa until Corinne left the room. Once alone, she picked up her sketch book and pencil before heading back out to the balcony. She left the door open and sat on the bare concrete. The world glittered below. Sure, there had been danger in Lysianna. People robbed one another and many lied. The same ones found guilty tried to appeal to her father for leniency. Campus life wouldn’t be much different. People would be rotten to one another and they’d try to steal—boyfriends, girlfriends, supplies, grades… It was life and the world wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t mind as long as she had a chance to experience it. Her eyes were open concerning school, but she still loved the romance of being so far from home and meeting new people. The variety! Not everyone would bow to her and some might not notice her. What a concept!
She spied the tall, dark-haired man on his balcony. He held a cup of something. Coffee? Tea? Something stronger? She scooted over on her own balcony to watch him. He stood barefoot and clad in nothing but pajama pants. Was this his post-sex look? She sort of hoped so.
He wrapped both hands around the cup and rested his elbows on the railing. Worry knotted his shoulders.
She could see his face finally. He seemed handsome. Dark eyes and a killer body. Strong, muscled…she wondered if he’d finished the drawing from before and if he’d slept with the model.
She shivered. She’d never slept with anyone of the opposite sex and the times she’d slept with Corinne didn’t count because they’d actually slept. No sex involved.
She opened her sketch pad and created a list.
While I’m at university, I want to:
*be kissed properly
*buy a cheeseburger
*see a rock band play a concert
*have sex & lose my virginity
*have sex with a handsome man
She tapped her pencil against her lips as she debated the next item for her list.
*to meet the tall, dark and handsome artist downstairs
*to model for someone (nude?)
*to attend a real party
*to fall in love
She snorted. Love wouldn’t happen. Not for her. Before things got that far, she’d be found out. The law of averages wasn’t in her favor. If her stepmother didn’t tell someone she’d arrived at the college, Corinne would let the secret slip.
Still, she could dream.
Besides, the list was only one of dreams. It wasn’t like she’d created a checklist to live by. She’d come to the college to get an education, not fall in love. Even if she wanted to be with someone and experience those aspects of life, she had to finish her degree first. She’d paid the money to attend and refused to waste the chance—even for love.
Chapter Two
Luke held on to his coffee cup and contemplated his life. His artistic endeavors weren’t turning out quite the way he’d planned. Nothing seemed right. The energy in the drawing didn’t translate or the luminosity in the painting dulled. His representations were great and resembled the models, but the pieces lacked spirit.
Missy stomped through the apartment. “You used me,” she snapped. “You told me you thought I was special and you’ve tossed me aside.”
He kept his back on her. From the moment he’d met her, he told Missy he wanted her to pose for him. Romance wasn’t going to happen.
She joined him on the balcony. “Did you hear me?”
“I did.” He forced his gaze to hers. “I also told you we weren’t going to have a relationship. I’m not looking for that.”
“Right.” She narrowed her eyes. “You came on to me. You told me I was pretty. We kissed…” She waved her fingers. “That sounds like the start of a relationship.”
“You kissed me.” He leveled his gaze. “You found me at the Corner Bar and came on to me. I tried to tell you I wasn’t interested and you wouldn’t listen.”
She cocked her hip. “Then why’d you let me kiss you?”
“I didn’t have much choice.” He snorted. “You threw yourself at me and you were drunk. Taking you home to your apartment seemed like the right thing to do. I never tried to touch you and I didn’t kiss you again. All I wanted from you was as a model. I need to get this degree and my work into the galleries. I’ve wasted enough time.”
“I’m a waste of time? Men.” She left him alone on the balcony and rustled through the apartment. “You’ll never see me again. Asshole.” She slammed the door as she left.
He groaned and resumed staring off into space. So much for using Missy as a model again. She knew how to pose and could do so without talking, which made him happy. He preferred to concentrate when he worked, not carry on conversation. But she wanted to date and he refused to have a relationship with her. He’d been up front about his policy to keep work and play se
parate. No sleeping with the models. She knew the score.
He hadn’t come to college for love. He’d arrived at KSU to gain his master’s degree in studio art with a concentration on painting and photography. The galleries claimed he needed more experience and a broader portfolio before they’d carry his work. Fine and wonderful, except the muse had opted to go on a long vacation. His art had fallen flat. With no art, no jobs. No jobs meant he’d have to find something else to do with himself. Art was his lover and his master.
Damn it.
This was a new semester with new chances. Besides, he had one year left on his program. He had to knuckle down, not consider dating anyone…unless the right girl came along. Someone who could handle him being an artist and having strange hours. Someone who encouraged him to be creative. Art soothed his soul and after his ex-girlfriend, Jenna, had wounded his heart, he’d decided to keep love on a shelf.
He finished his coffee and turned to head inside when he spotted a woman on one of the upper balconies. The units from the fifth floor up were double occupancy and larger apartments. They were fancier than the lower ones, especially his studio version. If given the chance, he’d like a larger apartment, but the one he had suited him fine.
He watched the woman. Something about her seemed to call to him and he wasn’t sure what. He didn’t get a good look at her, but she seemed pretty. He admired her pose—deep in thought. She’d folded her legs beneath her and her hair obscured part of her face. He wondered what she was concentrating on. He didn’t remember seeing her around campus. How had he missed her?
The itch to draw her overcame him. He picked up one of his sketch pads and inched over to the weather-beaten lawn chair. He could watch her without looking weird and could draw her. She wouldn’t know he’d been inspired by her, either. Sneaky wasn’t his style, but he appreciated people watching—especially her because she fascinated him. He completed the simple sketch in moments and added little shading. The drawing had life to it. He’d captured something within her. The light he wished he saw in many of his models seemed to radiate from her.
He was drawn to her. His heart hammered. The moth-to-a-flame thing, the magnetic thing…part of him wanted to climb the balconies and meet her. Or use the stairs. That might be smarter and would be less strange. Still, he needed to know her.
Was she an art student, too? Or a writer? He’d never drawn a writer. Could be fun. Maybe she’d been penning the lines to a great story or the elusive bestselling novel. She inspired him. For all he knew, she could be the one he’d been waiting for and the one he thought he’d never find.
So much for giving up on love.
The odds were rather long that he’d make contact with her, though, and he wasn’t a gambling man.
Luke finished the sketch and collected his things before heading inside. He tore the drawing from the book and tacked the page to his cork board. He might not know the woman—might never know her—but she’d rekindled a spark within him to create and he needed the incentive. He needed to find the light again.
He could be mistaken, but he liked the way he felt when he looked at her and loved that the muse seemed to have come back.
Thank you, God. Without the muse, he’d be sunk.
He needed to meet the mystery woman and keep his muse happy.
* * * *
Luke strolled across campus on Friday and headed to the art building. He needed a new set of models and hadn’t come across the woman on the balcony again. He couldn’t use friends and wanted fresh faces. He tacked his notice on the model request board in the lobby, then ducked into one of the empty classrooms.
He needed time to think. He hadn’t seen his muse since classes started. Damn. He wished he’d run into her because she intrigued him. Such a pretty girl and seemingly quiet. He didn’t know her name, if she had a boyfriend or if she wanted to be his model. She might rebuke him. But after watching her the first night and drawing her, he swore she’d be a good model. Another woman had come out to the same balcony, but she wasn’t his girl.
He wondered if she’d even talk to him. Would she like him? He considered himself handsome enough, but other girlfriends hadn’t liked him being an artist. Jenna had hated the amount of time he devoted to everything but her. If he wanted to have variety in his portfolio, he needed to focus on his art. He’d painted plenty of still life and animals. He’d even done a few action scenes, but his strength was figure painting.
He flipped through his phone. So far, two people had applied to pose for him. One was a guy and the other a girl he’d already used.
“Excuse me?”
Luke froze. He’d forgotten ducking into the empty classroom. He looked up in the direction of the feminine speaker.
The woman smiled and clutched an art history book. “Hi. I think I’m lost. Can you help me?”
“Sure.” He swept his gaze over her. Pretty. Her dirty blonde tresses were pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed and her dark eyes glittered. She didn’t seem to be wearing a ton of makeup, either. He smiled. “Where do you need to be?” He tried not to stare at her figure, but damn. Curvy girls were his drug. She reminded him of his balcony girl.
“I’m lost. I thought this was the lecture hall, but it’s not.” She shoved a lock of her hair from her eyes. “I think I transposed the numbers. It’s one-twenty-three, not two-thirteen, isn’t it?”
“One-twenty-three.” He put his phone away. “What time is your class?”
“Noon. It only meets one day a week here in the art building. The other class meeting takes place over in the gallery.” Her blush deepened. “I’m not late, yet. Just lost.”
“No problem.” He left his chair. “I’ll escort you.” He grabbed his bag and gestured to the door. “It’s this way,” he said. “You’re new here. Or is this your first art class?”
“Both.” She smiled. “My other classes are history-based and at the Clinton building. I found those, but for some reason, I got my numbers wrong and myself turned around when I reached the art building.”
“It’s a strange structure. You enter what seems like the ground floor from all three levels.” He walked with her down the corridor. “Which way did you come in?”
“The flat path.” She pointed to the glass double doors. “There.”
“Ah.” He gestured to the open-plan stairwell. “Down here.” He allowed her to go first and when he reached the bottom, he grinned. “The other gallery is over there and the lecture hall is here. If you come in through the grand staircase, then you’ll be right at the lecture hall. Look for the carpet. That’s how you know you’re in the right place. See?”
“Well, that was a lot easier than wandering the building for the last ten minutes like I was.” She laughed. “I got so nervous when I was on this floor that I walked right past it. I feel silly.”
“It’s a complicated building.” He stood to the left of the carpeted steps. “Which class are you taking?”
“Baroque art.” She smiled and seemed to gain a bit of confidence. “Today’s the lecture.”
“And Monday you meet at the gallery in Clinton for the virtual tour?” He’d heard of the Baroque class, but hadn’t found the time to take it.
“Yes.” Her eyes widened. “Did you sign up for it, too?”
“No, but a friend of mine took it last semester. Pay attention in the gallery because the prof is showing you the actual works used in the lecture,” he said. “It’s nice to see them in sort of person. At least you can put the art with the description.”
“Thanks.” She pulled the textbook from her bag. “I wondered if that’s how they’d conduct the class. I appreciate the tip.”
“You’re welcome.” He lingered another moment. He enjoyed their conversation and she struck him as a sweet girl. She seemed to be illuminated from within—or was that his libido finally waking from its long winter’s slumber? “Do you draw?” he asked, trying to keep the chat going.
“I goof around with my sketch p
ad.” She sat on the top step. “Join me?”
“Sure.” He settled beside her. Something flowery swirled around him. Her perfume? He studied her up close. When she smiled, her eyes glittered. A dusting of freckles covered her nose. She fiddled with her book. Nervous gesture? He bumped knees with her. “Are you an art history major? My friend that took Baroque art was and he graduates this semester. I think he’s doing an internship in the gallery.”
“I didn’t know that was possible,” she said. “But yes, I am. I did the early work online, so now I’m taking the stuff that can’t be done on the computer.”
“Cool.” He’d never tried online classes, but being a studio art major, it seemed useless. “You’ll like Baroque art. The prof is good and fair.” He liked the sound of her voice and her shyness appealed to him. The innocence could be an act, but he doubted it.
The lecture hall doors opened and a few students filtered into the foyer of the building. The girl tucked her book back into her bag. “I guess it’s time.”
“Just about.” He would’ve liked a few more minutes with her. “I didn’t catch your name.” Not that he’d shared his with her, but still…
Her eyes widened. “I forgot my manners.” She stuck out her hand. “My name is Zara. You?”
“Luke.” He held on to her fingers a bit longer than he should’ve, but her hand fit so well in his. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too. You are my knight in shining armor.” Zara’s grin widened. “I’ll see you again, I hope?”
“Sure.” He pointed to the message board. “Call me. It’s my number on the request for models. I’m always looking, so if you want to sit for me, I’m game.”
“As a model?”
“Sure, for my art. I’m a studio art major with a focus in photography and painting.” He lingered. “Or call me if you want to hang out…or if you get lost again. I’ll find you.”
