Beauty and The Best (Once-Upon-A-Time Romance) (34 page)

Just as she was leaving, she found a group of decorative plates with a French bistro theme that would be perfect in the kitchen.

A fabric store down the way had some pre-made tab curtains in a bold splashy material that would look really cute in the studio. Not feminine at all and certainly busy enough to hold her attention during four hours (
groan
) of sitting.

Next door to that was a bath store. She loved scented candles and potpourri. Niceties she never had growing up, which was why she’d had a large selection in her apartment before the fire, so she picked up some lavender candles for her bathroom, some sandalwood ones for Todd’s (not that she’d been in there, but, as Mrs. Gray said, one could always hope) and some vanilla ones for the kitchen. Boots should like those.

She returned in time for the dinner preparation. She looked in on Mrs. Gray (a familiar theme song blaring away on the telly), and found that the older woman and Boots had decided to take a nap. Mr. Gray was in there on the sofa, too. No wonder Todd offered them a room. Picture-hanging was out for the moment, though the candles did make it to their respective rooms, which was more than she could say for the three sleeping in the den.

She threw together a light and fluffy dinner of a Spanish potato omelet, tomato/cucumber salad, and focaccia with pesto.

“
It smells wonderful, dear,” Mrs. Gray said, rubbing her eyes, waking at just the right moment. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

“
Nope. We just have to wait for the omelet to cool to room temperature. That’s how it’s best. In the meantime, I’m going to hang the pictures I bought.”

“
Earl, go help the girl.”

“
That’s okay, really. I can do it.”

“
Nonsense, Jolie. We want to help.”

Jolie shared a smile with her. She knew all about the help Mrs. Gray wanted to give.

“
Perhaps I could use a step ladder,” Jolie conceded.

Mr. Gray went on his merry way to get a ladder while Mrs. Gray gave her a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“
For what?” Jolie really did not want the hug to end.

“
For trying to make this house a home.”

“
Oh, well, they’re just a few things, nothing—”

“
I’m not talking about the pictures, Jolie, though they are a nice touch.”

“
You’re not?”

“
No.” Mrs. Gray smiled and stepped back, linking their hands. “I’m thanking you for loving him, of course.”

“
How… how do you know?” Was it written on her face?
Jolie hearts Todd
?

Mrs. Gray cupped her cheek just as her breath hitched and her throat closed with something suspiciously like tears.

“
It’s perfectly obvious and perfectly understandable, dear. And perfectly acceptable.” Boots twined around their ankles as Jolie’s insides went all warm and mushy. “Even your gua—er, kitty here can tell.” Mrs. Gray picked him up. “Right, Boots?”

Boots stretched out to lick Jolie’s nose. There was something weird with this animal.

“
So.” Mrs. Gray handed the kitten to Jolie then assembled a dinner tray for Todd. “Why don’t you take this up to him? Earl and I can handle hanging the pictures.”

Somehow the woman made the switch of kitten for tray all the while ushering Jolie toward the door which, conveniently was opened by Mr. Gray at just the right moment.

“
Have fun,” he said with a wink.

***

Jolie opened the door to the attic and saw Todd’s face shadowed like a black and white photograph in the light cast by the chrome floor lamp. He was bent over the canvas, one paintbrush between his teeth, another whipping over the canvas, a palette in his other hand, deep lines of concentration crisscrossing his forehead. He dabbed at the palette, then back at the canvas, and that lock of hair fell forward again. He flicked his head to move it out of his way.

His eyes met hers.

Wine sloshed over the edge of the glass as the tray trembled in her hands. “Dinner.”

Eloquence personified.

“
Gweat.” He slid the brush from his mouth. “I mean, great.” Down went the palette and brushes onto the stool, and he headed toward her.

She held out the tray like an offering at church, and, yeah, worship came to mind. She couldn’t help it. He looked so darn yummy all rumpled like that, with a rainbow of paint slashes on his t-shirt, mussed hair, and another pair of brushes sticking out of his shorts pocket. But most of all, there was peace in his eyes. The haunted look she’d first met was gone.

“
I didn’t realize it was that late.” He took the food, his fingers brushing hers. “Thanks. This looks delicious. Want to join me?” He looked around, then smiled sheepishly. “I guess I need to get a table. Sorry, I hadn’t thought about eating in here.”

“
No, no, that’s fine. I’ll, um, eat later. I’ve got some writing to do.”

He raised the tray, tomato salad corner a tad higher than the rest. “This?”

“
What?”

“
Are you including this in the cookbook?”

Yeah, guilt razored down her spine. “The cookbook. Right. Yes.”

He squinted at her, all six-foot-four of him hunkering down to meet her gaze. “Are you okay?”

Define okay
. “Certainly. Fine. Why do you ask?”

“
You’re not your usual foaming-at-the-mouth self. And I mean that in the best possible way.” A dimple glimmered in his cheek.

Of course she smiled. She liked that he teased her. She liked that he liked to tease her.

Oh, heck. She liked that he liked her.

“
Now there’s my Jol… ie.” He lowered the tray and the smile faded from his face.

Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

And
was
she his?

It was one thing to make lemonade out of her own lemons, but what if his were sour?

“
Actually, I am fine. Just have a lot on my mind.” And there went Mouth off and running. “I just remembered I’m supposed to go to Bella’s Thursday afternoon to help her prepare for Friday night’s party. Mrs. Gray said they’re going away for the weekend, but I’ll be sure to have your dinner ready before I go, and— ”

“
Jolie.”

Her lips clamped shut.

He took a sip of his wine. “Do whatever you need to. I’ll be fine.”

“
You’re sure?”

A soft smile flickered across his lips. “I’m sure.”

Now that “sure” sounded sure.

Chapter Thirty

After a busy two days helping Bella, Jolie dragged her tired toes across the driveway into Todd’s house. Thankfully, he’d moved on to the painting portion of his career comeback, so he hadn’t needed her in the studio, but Bella sure had.

The hostess of the big party called Bella with the last-minute news that the guest of honor was allergic to shrimp, so Bella and Jolie had no sooner had everything prepared than they had to do it all over again. The honoree couldn’t touch anything that had even breathed the same air as the shrimp, so to be safe, they’d scrubbed down the kitchen and utensils and donated everything they’d already prepared. Chloe’s girls and the people in a few homeless shelters were going to go to bed on very full tummies.

And while the hostess admitted her error and agreed to reimburse Bella, it was still an amazing feat to come up with more menus, more food, and more time to put it all together.

But they had, and they’d done it well. However, it had done Jolie in. She was so tired she could barely stand when she entered the side door.

Boots stretched on the kitchen chair, then pounced down to rub around her ankles.

“
Hey, buddy,” she whispered, picking him up. He purred, settling beneath her chin. “Did you get dinner or was Todd too busy to feed you?” She checked the fridge. Sure enough, half a can of cat food remained. She put it on a plate, warmed it in the microwave, and was just about to set it down by the kitchen sink when she looked out the window. Light shone from the studio.

She checked the clock. It was after midnight. Had he been in there all night? Maybe he’d fallen asleep—the sofa was inviting enough. She should go check on him, turn out the light, lock the door, that kind of thing.

She gave Boots his belated dinner. “You stay here. I’ll be back in a bit.” She locked the door behind her and followed the path to the studio.

It was a beautiful night, a full moon shining brilliantly white in the star-lit sky. The gurgle of the waterfall in the pool whispered along the path and that frog plopped into the pond again. The crickets were quiet, merely a low hum on the air, and the faintest of breezes rustled the leaves. A hibiscus blossom had fallen onto the path and Jolie picked it up. They had such a beautiful scent, even when their one day of life was over. She sniffed it, then tossed it back onto the garden. Maybe it’d be the start of a new hibiscus plant tomorrow.

She tiptoed up the wooden stairs and pushed the door open. There he was, asleep in the chair, an empty plate on the floor next to him, a beer bottle on its side beside it. Mrs. Gray must have sent dinner up before she left.

Jolie carried one of the orange throws over to him. He looked so peaceful. His face was relaxed, even the laugh lines by his eyes were almost gone. She bit back a laugh, remembering how indignant she’d been that she didn’t have any lines. His certainly added something to his face. Character? Wisdom? She wasn’t sure, but she did know she’d like to see those lines deepen over the years.

That lock of hair was finally out of his face, curled above his forehead, sitting there, just waiting for Todd to change position so it could fall down again. His arms rested in his lap and she had to stop herself from picking up his hand. Such talented fingers, so finely muscled and strong, yet so gentle on her skin.

His legs flared, heels touching. The man even had nice feet. Naked, of course, but that was to be expected.

She smiled. Thank goodness he was asleep because she was sure everything she felt for him was visible in her eyes at this moment.

She took one last lingering look—and a slightly unsteady breath—then draped the blanket over him. He murmured something and she froze in place.

“
What?” was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“
My Jolie,” he murmured again. This time there was no mistake.

The blanket slipped from her fingers and Todd nestled into it.

The man was dreaming of her?

***

Jolie tried to rein in the bounce to her step as she skipped up the stairs to the studio the next morning. It was entirely possible he wasn’t awake yet, but her? She’d been awake for what seemed like hours, after a tough time falling asleep. Heart kept wanting to re-examine the meaning and ramifications of him talking in his sleep about her. And that oh-so-significant “my” before her name. Even though she’d ordered every hormone, every emotion, every nerve cell in her body not to overreact, Heart was break-dancing in her chest like it was Valentine’s Day.

She looked in the window. He was just starting to stir. She knocked.

Green eyes lit up when he lifted his head. And so did her heart. It had to have been a good dream for him last night.

He shuffled to the door, all rumpled and sleepy-eyed, and that curl was back on his forehead. He ran both hands through his hair, then brushed the shadow on his jaw and gave her a one-sided grin as he opened the door. “You really haven’t seen me at my best in the mornings.”

“
That
is a matter of opinion,” said Jolie, not Naughty Girl. She brandished the plate she’d brought. “Breakfast is served.”

“
Are you and Jasmine trying to keep me locked in my tower? I swear, I think I’ve had the last five meals in here.” The supposed lock-down didn’t seem to have any effect on his appetite, shoveling in the fried-eggs-over-easy, Canadian bacon, and whole-wheat toast as he was.

“
Perhaps you should think about coming up for air, then.” She locked her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels.

The eyebrow went up again. “Are you kidding? It’s flowing, Jolie. It’s working. All of it. Light, perspective, shadows, depth, you… It’s as if I’ve never stopped, yet I’ve never painted like this before.”

“
That’s a good thing, right?”

He scooped up another piece of egg, downed the entire glass of o.j., used the napkin she’d provided and nodded. “Better than a good thing. I didn’t really think it’d happen like this. I started this to see if I could do it. Now, I’m inspired. I want to try all sorts of things, super-imposed images, sepia tones, black and white, profiles, the list is endless.”

“
So I’ve outlived my usefulness, then?” She was glad for him. Truly, but if he was so inspired, he could paint anyone.

He set the plate on the floor and when he stood, he was six inches closer and had hold of her hands. “Outlived it? I don’t think so.” He took another step closer. “If anything, you’re more important than ever.”

She tamped down the surge of hope. “More important?”

His eyes caressed her face. “Definitely.”

A silence so fraught with unspoken words swirled around them, stealing her breath.