Beauty and The Best (Once-Upon-A-Time Romance) (26 page)

“
Mr. Kitty?” She shrugged, cracking an egg for the kitten who’d decided to take up residence on top of her new sandal.

“
Jolie, I can’t go around calling him Mr. Kitty. And how do you know it’s a boy?”

“
Didn’t anyone ever teach you about the birds and the bees, Todd?” She almost choked on the words, as the image of The Kiss loomed large on her mental horizon.

Todd got a wicked, wicked grin on his face. “Trust me, Jolie, I know all about the birds and the bees.”

“
I believe you.” Oh, yeah. No doubt there. Her face was like a thousand degrees, and she spun around to hide that fact, dislodging the kitten who meowed as his bed turned into a carnival ride.

She whisked the eggs a bit harder than necessary. “As to your question, male cats look like a colon under their tail and females look like upside down exclamation marks.”

“
Punctuation? That’s how you tell? Thank God humans are different.”

You got that right, buddy. Way different.

“
So, is there another choice for a name? I’ll lose all sense of masculinity if I have to call him Mr. Kitty.”

“
Do you have a better idea?” Into the pan went the overly-scrambled eggs.

“
Killer.”

She snorted. “Puhleaze. Does he look like he’s dangerous?”

They looked down where the kitten had curled up between her feet again. His little pink tongue lolled out the side of his mouth and he snored softly.

“
Sleepy.”

The kitten’s tail twitched.

“
I don’t think he likes that one, Todd.”

Todd’s eyebrows arched. “How about Socks then?”

“
Or Boots. As in Puss-in.” As a writer, she was familiar with this process, kind of stream-of-consciousness rambling to get what she needed.

“
Fine. It’s late, I’m sweaty, and you’re naming the newest punctuation mark to join the household Boots. Shoes, Sandals, Sneakers… any kind of footwear is better than Mr. Kitty. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

And there he went, taking all thoughts of what if with him—which was probably for the best anyway. He was just coming out of his self-imposed emotional hibernation; it probably wasn’t the best idea to read anything more into
anything
other than he was rejoining the world of the living and she just happened to be handy.

Right. That was what she needed to remember.

Jolie hunkered down to pet Boots while he slurped up his eggs—her own little “just so happened to be handy” friend. Nothing wrong with being the “handy” friend, as long as you weren’t looking for professions of undying love and everlasting commitment, though if no one claimed Boots, he could expect just that from her.

What could she expect from Todd?

Jolie couldn’t go there. So she chose to go to her room instead. She settled Boots on the pillow next to her, and he, sweet thing, licked her knee with his sandpaper tongue, then wrapped his tail around his body, flicking it softly against her thigh, his black paws such a contrast against his snow-white fur. He purred himself to sleep while she struggled away on her manuscript. With Todd pulling at her heartstrings, she wanted to imbue Tom with all that emotion. At least it’d be good for something.

An hour or so later, her pencil was a nub and her brain numb, so she put the notebook aside. Tom was working very well now. Perfectly ready to let a woman into his life.

And she wasn’t even going to touch that thought.

Chapter Twenty-One

“
Jolie, you need to put the damn cat outside.”

“
I can’t. He might run away.”

“
Stop moving. He’s distracting me, damn it. Every time I move he’s swatting my shoe laces.”

“
So take off your shoes.” Did she just suggest Todd remove an article of clothing?

“
Fine.” Todd exhaled and removed them. “Why didn’t you leave him in your room? He’s going to start in on the paintbrushes soon.”

“
So give him one. What’s it going to hurt? You have yet to pick up a brush.”

“
That’s because I’m sketching you first. Turn your head to the right. There, that’s it. Now tilt your eyes up toward the top of the window. Just like that. Good. Hold it. Don’t move.”

There she sat, staring at a piece of window trim in the west wing the Morning After.
Not
that this was a Morning After worthy of being called a Morning After, given that the time she was spending with him was relegated to discussions about light, positioning, and, of course, the diatribe against the kitten. An artist’s model’s life was definitely not glamorous. Quite odious, actually. They’d been there for a good two-and-a-half hours so far and Todd had said all of six words which weren’t cat-related: “Good morning,” “Sit here,” and the ever-present “Don’t move.”

Yep, that was about it. She was hoping it was simply that he’d gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that morning and that this wasn’t his normal artistic temperament. Because, if it was, she might push for an end to his re-instituted career before he’d even had a chance to get started. Or at least suggest he find a new model because she didn’t care how cute and sweet and caring and sexy and funny and friendly and nerve-shivering he was, this was not worth it.

“
You know, Jolie, you really are a beautiful woman.”

Well, okay, maybe it was. “Um, thanks?”

“
Don’t move.”

And there went that moment.

“
I just hope I can do your bone structure justice. The way your lashes brush beneath your eyebrows—they’re incredibly long, but natural-looking. Not come-hither. More… inviting. Yes, that’s the word. A window dressing for your soul. I’ve got to get the curve of them right.”

Wow. He could say that without dissolving into a puddle of mush on the floor? She, on the other hand, was getting quite boneless. “Todd—”

“
Ssh. Don’t move your mouth. I’ve got to get the tip of your lip right where it vees into the middle.”

Yeah, well, he’d better get the droplets of moisture (not sweat because she didn’t) beading above said lip before they cascaded all over the place.

“
I’ve got an itch.”

His sigh was loud enough to wake the neighbors. “Fine. Take a break.”

She scratched the itch on her hand, rolled her head, worked the kinks out of her shoulders, did a few arm swings. At least she had a pillow on the stool so Tush was in decent shape, but her right calf felt as if it’d fallen asleep. She did some toe-pulls to stave off a charley horse and a minute or two of run-in-place.

“
What are you doing?”

“
Stretching?” Novel concept.

“
You need to stop. You’re shaking the floor and your lip line is going to bleed charcoal as if you don’t know how to use lipstick.” He rubbed the canvas with his little finger and his brows scrunched down until his eyes were almost invisible. And there he went with that hand through the hair again.

“
Are you always this chatty when you paint?” She couldn’t help the nudge. It was like some little imp got inside of her and wanted to push Todd’s buttons.

I know some buttons I’d like to—

Be quiet, Naughty Girl.

Spoilsport
.

“
Huh? What?” Todd took the stick of charcoal from his teeth, leaving a gray smear beside his mouth.

“
I said, don’t you think you should take a break? Your hair is sticking up from where you’ve run your fingers through it too many times, you’ve got a streak of charcoal across your cheek, and your personality is as sparkling as a flat bottle of old cider.”

“
What?” He sighed. “Sorry. I guess I got involved.”

“
A bit.”

“
I just want to get this right. It’s much different trying to convey the intelligence and beauty of a face than depicting nature. Portraits are so, well, personal. I’ve got to capture the essence of my subject in a way I’ve never done before.”

Forget those quivering thighs. Face, portrait, subject—she was just a facial subject on a piece of canvas and she really had to concentrate on remembering that.

And not let Heart slip into Stomach at the realization.

“
Can I see it?” She did a little hop-step over to the easel.

“
No.”

“
You’re kidding.”

“
No, actually I’m not.”

“
But it’s a picture of me.”

“
And I’m the one painting it, therefore, I call the shots. No one sees my work until it’s ready for presentation.”

The half-grin on his face told her he knew it was bugging her not to see it, and that he was enjoying bugging her, but no way was he going to let her see it.

“
Fine.” Two could play that game. “Then you can’t see my book until it’s finished.” Oh lord oh lord oh lord. Open mouth, insert kicky yellow flat-less foot.

“
Fair enough. Now are you finished stretching?”

Shoot. He won that round. She glared at him as she re-took her perch on the boring stool, readjusting her purple t-sh

Truly, he had no idea. “Actually, I thought
you
might have, seeing as how you’re working so hard.”

“
Why, Jolie, is that sarcasm I hear?” He raised his eyebrow, which raised her body temperature, and she had to look somewhere else. “Let me finish your cheek while the sun is at this angle and then we can call it quits for the day. Okay?”

Smooth, warm-as-honey, conciliatory words did wonders in an argument irt. “What time’s lunch? As the chef, I need to get started.”

“
Have you really worked up an appetite sitting there?”

. “Okay.”

***

Just how long did the sun remain in one angle? Didn’t it travel across the sky in something like sixty minute intervals until high noon, at which point the sun was, well, high? As in, straight up in the sky? As in, it couldn’t possibly be casting any shadows because it wasn’t on an angle?

Apparently such knowledge was beyond her hero over there, who was
still
sketching away. She must have an awfully big cheek if he was working on it for over an hour. Talk about unflattering.

The charley horse was coming; she could feel it. It was about the only thing she
could
feel. Her feet were asleep, her legs were cramping, and her tush had high-tailed it to China about twenty minutes ago.

“
I’m sorry to be a nudge about this, Todd,” she said in the sweetest voice petrified lips and a dry throat could muster, “but is there any chance we can stop? If nothing else, Mother Nature needs a visit.”

He was really into the sketch, arm extended, swishing across the canvas in quick little strokes. His lips were a thin line and he was biting the top one a bit. Too cute. A lock of that gorgeous hair was flung sideways across his forehead, just begging to be smoothed back. Well, in her imagination anyway.

“
Yoo-hoo. Todd?”

“
Give me a minute,” he gritted out between his teeth.

She was so tempted to do the
Jeopardy
theme, but that might really bug him. And, even though he bugged her with not letting her see the piece, she didn’t want to put any onuses on his painting. Instead, she elected to pass the time quietly—a rarity for her since silence made her edgy, which only underscored her determination to help him out.

Besides, she’d been staring at that darn window trim for so long she hadn’t really noticed the rest of the place. He’d painted three walls a bright yellow and the other a sky blue, as if he wanted to bring sunny days inside. And he must have actually done that, opening every window in the joint (of which there were many) for the last two days because there was only the faintest trace of new paint smell. But it was closed up today, so it was a good thing he’d installed a wall A/C unit because any more heat in this place could melt a glacier or two.

A plump white sofa sat in the corner, a comfy chair also in white near it, a couple of orange throws flung over the arm rests, and a geometric-design rug under the grouping on the hardwood floor. One lone chrome floor lamp rose up and over the seating area and colorful tropical plants in beautiful clay pots dotted the set-up. The guy definitely had an eye for color.

Finally, he sighed and gave one last two-handed rake through his hair, hiking his faded royal blue t-shirt up a bit over his waist. Between the glimpse of naked abs and him working out his own kinks, her traitorous fingers were itching to do some walking, and she didn’t mean through the Yellow Pages.

“
Thanks.” He stretched his palms outward, fingers interlaced. “That—” he indicated the canvas, the brushes, and his whole studio in general—“felt good.”

“
I’m glad.” There was a moment of silence, expectant, eager, while their eyes did some heavy-duty communicating. She wasn’t quite sure what they were saying to each other, but if the smiles were anything to go by, it was all good.

“
Ready to grab a bite?”

The man did have a way with words.

Chapter Twenty-Two

After four hours of sketching, Todd had a new appreciation for the human form, but that appreciation took on new meaning as he followed Jolie back to the kitchen along the flagstone path. Long, toned legs, rounded butt, the silky fall of her hair…