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“You didn’t hire him.” She approached the table and positioned herself on the other side, planting her palms on the scarred oak top. “I hired him. You had no right to tell him to leave.”
He shrugged but didn’t look up. “My studio, so I made the call. It just didn’t feel right.”
“Didn’t…feel…right.” Yet he hadn’t said why, hadn’t said the words she so desperately needed to hear. Joy was quickly replaced by anger. His ambivalence, his refusal to admit how he felt, filled her with frustration. Forcing in a breath to fortify herself, she said, “You allowed us use of your studio. That’s where your responsibility ended! This was my call, dammit!”
“Not anymore,” he shrugged, his brows furrowed.
Oh, no. She wasn’t going to let this happen! “What the hell are you thinking, Brett?”
“I’m thinking that sometimes you don’t always make the right choices, Kait. Mitch’s work isn’t right for you.”
On the verge of exploding, she lowered her voice and tried for calm. “You don’t get to make decisions for me.” Advancing on him, she poked her finger in his chest, ignoring his wide-eyed response. “I’m going to have a painting done. Obviously, not here in this gallery, but I’m still going to have it done.”
She knew she pushed him, but God help her, she didn’t know any other way to reach him. She wheeled around and headed for the dressing room. Brett followed, grabbing her upper arm and halting her progress. She turned around and glared at him, feeling ridiculous because this argument was turning her on! Her womb clenched in anticipation, her hard nipples scraping the terrycloth robe. What the hell was wrong with her?
“What are you going to do?”
Make you admit you want me. She jerked her arm away. “I’m going to dress and then I’m going to call Mitch back and make arrangements to have the portrait done somewhere else.”
“I didn’t want him to be the one to paint you.”
“Well, why the hell not? You’re the one who recommended him!”
He wasn’t going to say it, wasn’t going to say anything. She’d be damned if she’d play this game with him. Why couldn’t he admit that the need to paint was like a demon inside him? Why couldn’t he admit to the attraction that had simmered between them for ten damn years? Why did he continue to hold back, making both of them miserable?
She’d had enough. “I’m getting dressed and I’m leaving.”
Her hand was on the doorknob of the dressing room when he shouted, “Dammit! I’ll do it!”
Did she really hear that? She turned slowly and looked at him. “What did you say?”
“I said I’ll do it, goddammit. You win. I’ll paint you.”
She shook her head and gaped at him, certain she’d misunderstood what he said. “You want to paint me?”
“No, I don’t want to. But I will, if only to keep some other guy from doing it. Aidan would never forgive me if I let some strange guy see you…”
“Naked?” she finished for him, cocking a half-smile at his sudden discomfort. And did he really think she was buying his “I’m doing it for Aidan” excuse?
“Yeah. Naked.”
“And you think he’ll be fine with you doing it.”
He shrugged. “Like you said before, Kait. I’m practically your brother anyway.”
Now it was his turn to smirk. Just like Brett to throw her own words back at her. She didn’t know what made him change his mind, but she wasn’t about to question it. “When can we get started?”
He blinked, then shook his head. “Tomorrow. I need to get some supplies. And I’m not painting you here. We’ll do it at my place.”
Her skin flushed at his suggestion of “doing it” at his place. This was just the beginning. First she’d get him excited about painting again. Then maybe, just maybe, she could get him excited about something else.
You’re a bad, bad girl Kaitlyn Storm. “I’ll go get changed,” she said, grinning as soon as she turned her back to him.
Brett watched her walk away, the sexy sway of her backside knotting his balls. The urge to cup his hands around the soft globes while burying his face between her legs was excruciatingly painful.
Goddamn Kaitlyn for putting him in this position. Just watching her pull the sash off that robe, knowing Mitch was standing there watching, had sent him into a fit of jealousy that shocked the hell out of him. Before he knew it, he’d told Mitch he wanted to paint Kait and asked him to back off. Thank God Mitch was a good friend, though he’d had to endure knowing looks and quite a few laughs at his own expense.
Hell, what was he supposed to do? Stand there and watch the woman he wanted disrobe in front of someone else? He might not be able to have her, but he’d be damned if he would allow another man to paint her.
Maybe painting her would exorcise her from his mind. Yeah, right. As soon as he told her he’d paint her portrait, he couldn’t believe he’d said the words. Too late to take them back now. He was committed.
Or he should be committed, because trying to keep his distance from Kaitlyn while painting her naked body was going to drive him insane.
The door to the dressing area opened and she came out, a contented smile on her face. Of course she was smiling. She’d just gotten what she wanted. Somehow he knew he’d been manipulated by a master.
“I really appreciate this,” she said, grabbing her purse and pulling out her keys. “What time tomorrow?”
“Seven.”
She nodded and half-turned, then whipped around to face him again. Her eyes were so beautiful, her dark lashes sweeping her upper brow. Excitement lit them up like a twinkling emerald. “I’m so excited, Brett! Thank you so much! You won’t regret this.”
He already did.
After she left he went into the studio to pick up, then began to shut out the lights. His gaze caught something next to one of the chairs and he did a double take.
When was the last time he’d watered that old plant? Months ago? He didn’t remember it looking as vibrant, its thick leaves infused with a dark green color and shoots of new growth sprouting from the center. It even had a few buds. A quick check of the soil confused him even more. The dirt was wet, as if it had just been watered.
Hell, he’d thought that plant was long ago dead.
Kaitlyn was ready—freshly showered, her skin scrubbed pink and glowing. She’d shaved everything and everywhere, both highly embarrassed and incredibly aroused by the thought of Brett seeing her naked. She’d lathered on unscented body lotion, not wanting to annoy him by dabbing on any sultry perfume. She’d even agonized over what to wear, finally tossing on jeans and a lightweight sweater. She wasn’t dressing for a date, after all.
Soon enough she wouldn’t be dressed at all, she thought with a chuckle.
One step at a time. First the portrait. She just wanted to spend some time with him and talk. Give him a chance to open up to her.
After that she might go for the perfume. But right now she’d keep it business only.
Business only. Yeah right. So why was her heart pounding like a heavy drumbeat during the entire half hour drive? By the time she reached his house she was about ready to hyperventilate and in dire need of a paper bag. Her palms were sweaty and it felt like her heart had changed locations, now residing in her throat.
Calm down, Kait. What will happen is meant to be. She knew that, her mother had always told her about destiny. If she was destined to be with Brett then she would be. If not, then this project was a waste of time.
No, it wouldn’t be waste of time. After all, he was going to paint again and that was important. His soul lived at the end of a paintbrush and he needed this to heal. Maybe everyone else tiptoed around him after Amanda died, but it was time he got on with his life. It was time he experienced the joy he used to feel when he painted. She’d seen his eyes light up when he worked on a project. She needed to see that light again.
The one-story white ranch was surrounded by lush green grass. Fiery red bushes lined its s
tone walkway. Tall willows draped over the top of the tile roof like a blanket, their arms swaying in the slight evening breeze. Lights poured through the two windows on either side of the oak door. A wide front porch housed two comfortable-looking wicker chairs. She paused to turn around, admiring the view of the lake nearby. She remembered Amanda explaining the reason they’d bought this particular house was so Brett could paint the lake and trees while they sat outside in the late afternoon and watched their kids play on the front lawn.
Her chest tightened at the loss of both Brett and Amanda’s dreams. She wasn’t sure she could ever survive losing the love of her life. The pain Brett must have gone through for all these years made tears pool in her eyes, made her ache with emptiness. Was she wrong to push him to move on? Should she butt out and leave him alone? Her sister would say yes to those questions, but something deep inside her told her that she was supposed to do this. That somehow, she was the catalyst to Brett’s return to his former happiness.
Determined, she swiped the tears away, then pressed the bell and waited. She held her breath, convinced he’d open the door, shocked as hell to see her standing there. He probably assumed she wouldn’t show up. Or maybe he changed his mind and would ask her to leave.
Then again, she wondered why she was putting so much at stake on this painting?
For Brett and for his future, she reminded herself. If he painted her, he’d paint again. She knew it would work and that’s the only reason she was doing this.
