One Summer In New York. Trish Wylie

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СКАЧАТЬ reality, he didn’t know what to expect. Was not at all comfortable with how Holly might portray him. He reminded himself that this was ultimately for the good of Aunt Louise. He could put up with a little uneasiness for the sake of her wellbeing.

      “I’ll have you sitting on the stool.” Holly, all business, gestured for him to take his place.

      She studied him intently. Backed away to get one perspective. Inched to the side for another. Then came in close. So close he could feel the heat of her body, which made him want to do anything but sit still.

      “What are you deciding on?”

      “The perspective. I think I’ll do it at an angle that’s a partial profile.”

      “Will it be only my face?”

      She ran a finger across his upper chest from shoulder to shoulder to illustrate the cut-off point. Blood pumped double-time to every inch of him she touched. He instinctively leaned away.

      “Don’t worry. I won’t bite.”

      His voice came out a jagged growl. “It was not you I was worried about.”

      She smiled quizzically for several beats. His chest muscles continued to vibrate from her touch.

      It occurred to him that for all the questions they’d asked each other about favorite things and childhood memories, they hadn’t talked about past relationships.

      Had a man broken her heart? Had she broken someone’s? Was she looking for love?

      Did she wonder about him?

      Love wasn’t on the bargaining table in their business deal. He’d never loved. Didn’t love. Wouldn’t love. That was a contract signed a long time ago.

      Holly programmed some upbeat music into her phone and began. She wanted to do a preliminary pencil drawing on paper, and when she was satisfied with that move on to paint and canvas.

      With a last adjustment to his angle, she requested, “Try not to move.”

      “Do I need to be silent?”

      “I’ll let you know when I’m sketching your mouth. Just keep your head still when you talk.”

      With his face turned toward the window, it was odd to feel her eyes on him when he couldn’t see her face. Odd, but spine-tingling. And erotic. He wished he could rip off his clothes and have her paint him in the nude.

      Holly made him want to let go of the well-bred and well-mannered businessman he was. With her, he wanted to howl naked under the moonlight. And to ravage her with the savage passion he kept tightly caged inside him.

      “Can you soften your facial expression?” she asked, making him realize that he was not masking his arousal.

      He neutralized his jaw.

      “Tell me about your morning,” she coaxed.

      He appreciated her trying to help him relax. “There are ongoing issues with my housing development in the Bronx. I want to build the maximum number of comfortable units on the property to give as many families as possible a home of their own.”

      “What are the problems?”

      “Materials are costly. I have shareholders to answer to. And Aunt Louise. I promised this as a break-even project—not one on which the company would lose a lot of money. I may have to move it into the category of charitable endeavor. I will have to present it accordingly. Tricky.”

      “Here, take a look.” Holly unclipped from the easel the large piece of paper she’d been using for her sketch and held it up in front of her for him to see.

      After preparing himself to hate it, he saw that it wasn’t bad at all. She’d used those same short lines she had on the transportation drawings. Together, the strokes formed the likeness of a pensive man looking into the distance.

      Holly’s face was flushed. She was nervously waiting for his reaction.

      With a voice tight and caught, she squeaked, “What do you think?”

      “Is this how I look?”

      “Well, obviously you’re handsome. I hoped I could convey your seriousness, too.”

      She’d said “handsome” as matter-of-factly as it would have been to say he was wearing a white shirt. He liked it that she thought he was handsome.

      “I suppose I am serious.”

      “That feels like your core. You’re formal. You’re measured.”

      “Whereas you just say or do anything that comes into your mind.”

      “And you don’t seem like someone who ever loses control.”

      Oh, if she only knew the thoughts he was having about grabbing her and showing her exactly how out of control he could be.

      She was uncovering wild ideas in him. Holly, with her mesmerizing black hair and sinewy limbs. He’d stripped open more of his true self to her in the last two days than he had with anyone in his life. Not all his secrets, but he’d revealed a lot.

      And he must rein that in right now. She only needed to know what was relevant to their phony engagement. Nothing more.

      He stood up from his stool to stretch and take a break. Checked messages on his phone. Fired off a couple of texts.

      Using a sketchpad, Holly quickly drew more versions of his mouth until she was satisfied. Then showed him the one that she liked.

      “Interesting... It looks as if it is easy enough for you to make a small correction here and there and come out with a quite different result.”

      She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess so. Trial and error.”

      “I would not have a clue how to do that.”

      “I’ll show you sometime.”

      “I would like that.”

      How absurd this was—letting someone sketch his mouth. In the middle of a workday. When he had a thousand other things on his mind.

      But he didn’t care. Inexplicably, he wanted to be near Holly. She’d definitely cast a spell on him.

      She lifted a large canvas onto her easel and adjusted the height. Then picked out her first brush.

      “I’m ready to paint. Let’s begin.”

      * * *

      “Holly Motta, this is my aunt, Louise Benton.” Ethan made the introduction as soon as he’d ushered in the visitors.

      With a welcoming smile Holly shook the older lady’s hand. “I’m happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

      “And I so little about you...” Louise assessed her. “How pretty СКАЧАТЬ