Brush Strokes (9 page)

His gaze traveled slowly up her body,
the heat of it blazing a trail from down by her toes up to her
eyes. He asked huskily, “What are you wearing beneath that
thing?”

She pushed aside his question. “Joe.
What did he say?”

He blinked once. “You’re in. Now…what
are you wearing beneath that thing?”

Her head fell back, she closed her
eyes and let out a whoop. Thank God! Just a single painting, but it
meant her future. Mr. Killian might still recoup some of his money;
she might still have his patronage. The freedom that knowledge
provided her could float a galaxy of clouds.

“
Tanya, answer
me.”

She opened her eyes in time to notice
Joe stalk across the room, his attention never leaving her face.
Nothing but sin stared back.

Was something wrong with her outfit?
She always thought it was kind of cute. Brushing a hand down her
front, she replied, “Uh, the same kind of panties you
saw—”

“
Fuck,” he moaned. He
didn’t stop until close enough to pull her to him. His gaze dropped
to her breasts and back to her face. “Do you remember where you
bought this thing?” His fingers slid beneath the black fabric of
her skirt, toying with the seam along her panties.

“
Yeah.” The dark desire
facing her sent a rush of moisture between her legs.

His lips moved to her jaw line, down
her neck. “Good,” he mumbled. “Because when we get back from the
opening, I’m going to ruin it.”

Just like that, he sucked all of the
oxygen from the air.

Joe pushed her backward, until her
back pressed against the wall. He kept that naughty, daring hand
beneath her skirt all the while. “Before we go, though,” he said
against her skin, “I want you to do one thing for me.”

If he kept running his finger along
her crease like that, she would agree to anything short of murder.
She tilted her head, waiting for him to stop long enough so she
could raise her eyes to meet his. “Yes?”

“
Right here. Right now.
Come for me.”

His nearness made her senses spin, but
there was no way she’d turn that invitation down.

Joe leaned in closer, his chest barely
grazing hers. His face hovered just above hers, his mouth within
grazing distance. He pushed the material of her panties to the side
and eased his fingers in. She wrapped one hand around his bicep
with the first touch on her clit.

“
After the art show, baby,
I’m going to bring you to my bed.” He circled her nub, inciting
sparks of pleasure that rippled out in waves. “We’re going to
finish our art lessons. Touch.” A flick of his finger almost made
her knees buckle. “Taste.” Her head fell forward, stopping to rest
on the fleshy part of his neck. She cried out and he dipped inside
before tracing delicious circles on her sensitive spot.

“
Joe,” she whimpered on a
breath. Every nerve tingled with excitement. With a readiness to
succumb to his assault.

“
What do you think is next
after touch and taste?”

A low humming filled her ears, the
sound of her blood racing through her veins. His words broke
through the noise, her mind zeroing in on his voice. Her intellect
trying to process his meaning. “I…I don’t…know.”

“
Look at me.” His fingers
sped up, her hips rolled in time to match him, chasing the
sensation he provided. “Look into my eyes when you come. I want to
see what’s waiting for me when we return.”

Her mind started to lose the battle.
How could she focus on what he said when her body screamed for
relief? All she knew was the way his clever fingers danced on her
flesh.

She tightened her grip, knowing she
couldn’t stand it any longer. Her body would give out. She would
collapse in his embrace. At the end of it all, she would die a
sated, boneless death.

As she predicted, she melted when the
first shockwave cascaded out, locking her vocal cords in place,
shutting her mind and body down. She looked into his eyes, past the
piercing blue and saw starbursts of silver and gold.

“
Oh, Jesus, that’s
beautiful,” Joe murmured. He stood stock-still, the muscle of his
bicep the only movement between them except what her skirt hid. Her
harsh breathing the only other sound. At last she could stand no
more and her grip tightened, her lids fluttered closed.

“
Joe,” she whispered. A
deep sigh escaped when he removed his hand, her body still tingling
in places from the echoes of orgasm.

He kissed her lightly, and the corner
of her mouth pushed up in a self-satisfied smile. “I have something
for you,” he said. He waited a minute when her hand tightened
around his. If he left her to stand of her own devices now, no
telling what might happen. “My legs are shaking so badly,” she
admitted with a gasp.

“
Ready?” he asked when she
nodded a few minutes later and released another deep
breath.

“
Yes…and thank
you.”

Joe chuckled. “If you can’t tell, I
really like what you’re wearing.” He pointedly studied her body. “I
just had to see that before we left. God damn the time. I wish we
had more of it.”

Halloween colors or not, the ensemble
just became her new favorite. Her racing heartbeat slowed to a
trickle, a flush of contentment warming her through. If she wasn’t
careful, she could easily find herself falling for one Mr. Joe
Boyd. Perhaps she’d fallen already. “So what was it you wanted to
show me?”

He backed away, keeping her hand
clasped in his. “I’d almost forgotten it. I forgot why I’d come to
your place the day before and then later, in the bustle of prepping
for the art show, I still didn’t remember. But the minute I saw you
in those colors, between your sense of style and knack for colors,
it came to me.”

At once his face became boyish. Where
went the man who pushed her to soaring heights only moments ago?
He’d been replaced by someone whose self-confidence hadn’t quite
matured, by someone who didn’t know how to behave around a
woman.

He led her into his bedroom and if the
change in his demeanor startled her, that he let go of her hand to
rummage through a laundry basket in the master bathroom more than
baffled her. “What are you doing?”

“
I can’t believe I forgot
about it,” he muttered. A pair of denim pants appeared in his hands
a few seconds later.

“
And I can’t believe I’ve
let you distract me from the opening. We have to leave and you’re
not even dressed yet. You
are
coming, right?” Had she asked him to come or just
assumed he wouldn’t be left behind? His persistence got her exhibit
in after all.

The look he gave her brought back an
instant recollection of what staring into his eyes looked like deep
in the throes of her orgasm. There was passion, and longing and
something she didn’t—couldn’t—name below their surfaces. A
mischievous smile played about his lips. The small package he held
out in his hand distracted her from admiring it for too long. “Of
course I am, but first, here. Take this. I bought it for you,” he
said shyly. “If you don’t like it, that’s okay.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What is
it?”

His shoulder lifted in response. “It’s
not much. Open it.”

Damn if her fingers didn’t tremble as
she fumbled with the taped crepe paper. Joe moved in closer to fold
his arms around his waist. A distinct sensation of comfort and
belonging washed over her, calming nerves that had no business in
their agitation. Tossing aside the temptation to use her teeth to
rip through the elastic tape, an eternity passed before she finally
touched what had been trapped inside. She tugged on the cloth until
the entire thing pulled free.

“
Oh, Joe…” It wasn’t much
as he’d said, she knew that, but looking at the pendant hanging
from the velvet choker, basking in the warmth of Joe’s body, she at
once felt loved. Stupid, but true. If he said the words right now,
she’d have to feign surprise. Tension, maybe from the aftermath of
the fire, from the frenzy of meeting Mr. Killian’s deadline, or
perhaps from the growing sexual tension existing between them,
melted out of her body until she just about sagged against him. So
much happened between them in the past few days; it was
dizzying…and special.

Joe stiffened at once. “You don’t like
it.”

He sounded so crestfallen, she tilted
her face toward his. “No, Joe, I do. I think it’s wonderful.” She
brought her hand up. “Would you put it on me?”

A flare of hope lit his face. “It
would be my pleasure.”

Tanya fingered the pendant often.
While it felt foreign around her neck, stroking its twisted surface
brought a measure of calm as they traversed the tile floor of the
art gallery. Her heels tapped lightly across its surface, the sound
of Joe’s sure footsteps in time with hers. They hadn’t yet run into
Mr. Killian for news of any potential sales, but meeting him was
inevitable.

“
Do you know where it’s
displayed?” she asked Joe in a hushed voice. Maybe viewing her art
on the wall, the sense of pride it always brought, might bolster
her courage.

“
Uh, about that…Listen, I
should have told you….”

“
Tanya! Over here!” Mr.
Killian’s voice cut through whatever Joe had been about to
announce. She dropped her arm from within Joe’s folded one and
turned to find Mr. Killian. He drifted between the small crowds
gliding from show piece to show piece, wine glasses and dainty
white napkins in hand. Most dressed well for the occasion, while
artists like herself looked more relaxed in simple black outfits or
jeans and sneakers. She recognized most of her peers on sight, a
couple of them benefitting from Mr. Killian, too.

“
You brought your model I
see,” he boomed from across the room. A couple of people raised
their heads, eyeing the handsome man next to her curiously. Did he
really have to announce it to everyone present? Bad enough Joe
stood out with only a handful of others in a room of people shaded
in golds, tans and browns. Located in a gentrified section of the
borough, she’d forgotten the patrons at this particular gallery
were predominantly African-American. She should have warned him up
front.

A forced smile plastered to her face,
she said, “You two know each other, of course.”

Her date waited until the older
gentleman was in earshot before acknowledging him with a polite
nod. “Mr. Killian.”

“
So this is Tanya’s model,”
a woman said.

All three turned to the person with
the admiring voice. When she met the cool hazel gaze of the woman
dressed in a white cat-suit, Tanya’s hackles went on the rise. The
warning bells ringing in her mind might have been remnants from the
fire, but based on the way her blood simmered, she didn’t think
so.

She didn’t reek of superiority the way
some of the potential buyers did, but man, did she stink of class.
An artist, no doubt, but obviously she didn’t live just a step
above bread and water the way Tanya did. Her manicured nails,
beautifully coifed hair and elegant sashay spoke of a pampered
upbringing. Probably some daddy’s girl playing artist for now—that
is, until some other interest caught her eye and she bounded after
it.

“
Erica Loeving,” supplied
Mr. Killian. “Do you know Tanya Combs?”

Although compelled to offer
a handshake, Tanya smothered her urge to be professional when the
other woman didn’t offer her hand. She did, however, have to make
herself not study the jewelry studding her ears. Rocks that big
weren’t found in the local discount chain. “I don’t believe we’ve
met,” Tanya said with another forced, practiced smile. She worked
hard to remind herself
any friend of
his…

Erica sidled past Tanya to move closer
to Joe. “Yes, you would be the model, wouldn’t you? Those stormy
blue eyes and those cheekbones. Hmm…Amazing structure here.” Long,
tapered fingers brushed his jaw line. The chiseled masterpiece that
caught Tanya’s eyes as well.

Yes. It was why she’d been drawn to
him from the start. Joe’s features begged to be etched onto paper
or copied onto canvas. Just because he looked like Adonis walking,
didn’t give little Miss Dressed-in-white a reason to touch him,
though. Yet, she did.

“
I’ve seen her work,” Erica
went on, her hands trailing down Joe’s arm, “and I think I could do
you a little more justice. As a matter of fact, I know I
can.”

A small crowd gathered nearby. More
patrons and artists drinking in the displays surrounding them. A
photographer she recognized watched with interest. He called out,
“Then loan him to me afterward, Tanya. I could use someone with his
look if you two don’t over-saturate the community with him
first.”

Joe’s dark gaze drifted to the
photographer, mounting irritation evident on his features. He
removed himself from Erica’s grip, ever so gently. “Thank you for
the offer, but perhaps some other time. Tanya knows how to get a
hold of me for that. I’m sure it would be enlightening.” He dipped
his head toward Mr. Killian, who watched with amusement. “If you’ll
excuse us, sir.”

Anger speared through her
at his words, so much so, she almost didn’t notice right away he’d
guided them away from her patron. She’d go back in a minute to talk
to him as well as a few others she needed to pay her respects to,
but first, she had a few choice words for Mr. Boyd. As soon as they
were out of earshot, she blew a frustrated breath.
“
Tanya knows how to get a hold of
me
?” she mocked. “What does that
mean?”