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Brett inhaled sharply and nodded. “Yeah, he’s in the back getting ready. Go on through.”
“Great. I’m really anxious to get started.” She was about to say get naked instead, but decided against being that vindictive. Though she did pause, turn around and ask, “You’re going to watch, aren’t you?”
His eyes widened, then darkened, dropping half-closed as he studied her. Her throat went dry and her nipples beaded against her shirt. God, what she wouldn’t give for him to give her that look for an entirely different reason.
“Watch?”
“Sure. I don’t mind. And frankly I’d feel more comfortable having you in there. You’re practically family, you know.”
Zing! Got him with that one. He frowned and said, “I’m hardly family, Kait.”
“Close enough. You’re like a brother to me and I’ll really feel much safer having you there to watch.” Without waiting to see his reaction, she strolled through the double doors leading to the gallery and beyond.
Familiar with the layout of the gallery, she moved down the hall toward the studio. Sparsely furnished except for a few easels and a raised wood platform about ten feet square, she spotted a man that looked to be in his mid-forties examining the table of paints.
“Hi,” she said, strolling toward him. The man lifted his gaze and Kaitlyn was struck by his incredibly sexy ocean-blue eyes. “I’m Kaitlyn Storm.”
She heard the door open behind her and knew Brett had just stepped in. Mitch grinned and brushed a lock of shaggy brown hair off his face, his eyes lighting up like a full moon over the ocean. “Bon soir, ma belle. Brett didn’t tell me my subject was so breathtakingly beautiful.”
“Well, thank you, Mitch. I’m so excited you’re going to be painting me.”
Mitch smiled. “Merci, ma petite belle. I’m looking forward to doing you.”
He winked and she realized then he was flirting with her! Her gaze shot to Brett. He stood in the background, scowling. Okay, so he wasn’t totally immune to her. Hope filled her.
She couldn’t resist egging Mitch on just a bit. “And I’m looking forward to having you do me.” When Brett coughed, she continued and said, “I took the liberty of checking out your work at the downtown gallery and I’m very impressed. You have a reputation as one of the best artists in New Orleans.”
Though Mitch was indeed a fantastic artist, Brett’s paintings called to her emotions more. But she wasn’t going to say that.
Mitch laughed. “I’d say we’ll play some beautiful music together. Why don’t you go change into this robe and we’ll get you positioned so we can get started?”
He handed her a short red robe made of terrycloth. It looked more like a towel and would barely cover her ass. Great. Then again, she’d have more than her ass exposed shortly anyway.
This was it. She clutched the robe tight in her hands so neither Brett nor Mitch could see her quaking hands.
Posing naked for a stranger wasn’t what she’d wanted. But it was clear what she wanted wasn’t going to happen. She’d opened her mouth and thrown down the gauntlet, only Brett hadn’t picked it up. So now she’d have to live with her choice. And hope that she really did know Brett as well as she thought she did.
She stepped into the dressing area and hurriedly stripped, slipping the robe around her and belting it tight. It skimmed the top of her thighs. She’d have to make sure not to bend over or she’d give both men one hell of a show.
Her blood pounded in her ears as she stepped through the door, her legs so shaky she wasn’t certain she’d be able to walk. Mitch and Brett were huddled together in conversation, both of them looking up as she entered.
Mitch tilted his head to the side and scanned her body from head to toe. “Beautiful subject,” he said, motioning her to the platform. “Stand up there, disrobe and we’ll get started.”
She swallowed hard and turned her gaze to Brett, who hadn’t moved an inch since she’d walked in the door. The heat from his eyes shot deep between her legs, almost as if he’d physically touched her there. The look he gave her definitely wasn’t an impersonal artist’s survey. He didn’t look at her body, just kept his focus on her eyes. And she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, no matter how hard she willed herself to turn away.
When he arched a brow and glared at her, she wondered if he thought she wouldn’t go through with it. Was he challenging her, daring her to drop the robe?
Fine. She might be nervous as hell, but she’d damn well do it. She always finished what she started, and this project was no exception.
Yes, it could be just you and me doing this. But you said no. Keeping her eyes trained on Brett, she reached for the belt, untied the knot, and grasped the lapels of the robe.
“Kaitlyn.”
She paused when Brett spoke. “Yes?”
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
Her gaze shot to Mitch who’d stopped what he was doing and leaned back against the table, arms crossed and watching them both.
“Yes! Of course it is. It was my idea, you know.”
When he didn’t say anything else, she shrugged and reached for the lapels of the robe, holding her breath and hoping she wouldn’t blush from cheeks to cheeks.
“Dammit! Stop!”
She stilled, refusing to hope. Relief washed over her and she sucked in her bottom lip, waiting for him to say something. Waiting for him to say what she desperately wished him to say.
Mitch glanced over at Brett. “Something wrong?”
“I, uh, need to see you in my office, Mitch.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
“Sure.” Mitch shrugged and turned his head toward Kaitlyn. “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, refusing to budge even an inch as she watched Brett lead Mitch into his off
ice and close the door. Now what? Should she wait? Sit? Go change? The look on Brett’s face was murderous.
After about five minutes of standing like a statue, she began to feel ridiculous. Belting the robe again, she stepped off the platform and sat down in one of the metal chairs near the easel. A half-dead plant sat in a container near the chair. She reached over and caressed the petals, offering her sympathies for Brett’s neglect. She could certainly commiserate with the how the plant felt.
She could hear their voices, but couldn’t discern the conversation. Until it started to get louder and louder. Were they arguing? No, it wasn’t quite arguing. But she heard laughter. One-sided laughter, and it wasn’t Brett doing the laughing.
The door opened and Mitch came out, still chuckling. Kaitlyn frowned as he stepped up to the table and began to pack his brushes and paints into a large carrying case. Her gaze moved to Brett, who stood leaning against the door frame of his office, his expression dark and angry. That tiny flicker of hope surged into a bright light of joy.
“Is there…a problem?” she asked innocently.
Mitch snapped the case shut and looked up at her, a huge grin on his face. “Nope. I’ve just been fired.”
Yes! Affecting a frown, she said, “Fired? I don’t understand.”
“You will. Later, ma belle,” he said with a wink, then headed down the hall.
She stood frozen, watching Brett turn and follow Mitch to the door.
Shortly after he saw Mitch to the door, Brett came back into the room. “Get dressed.”
“Why did Mitch leave?”
“I told him he wasn’t needed. Get dressed.”
Despite her joy and relief, she had to see this charade through to its conclusion. “Excuse me? You told him what?”
“That he wasn’t going to be painting you.”
“I don’t understand this, Brett. Explain it to me.”
“I don’t want him painting you.” Then he turned away and fiddled with the paintbrushes on the supply table.
