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Her gaze tracked to his full head of vibrant hair. ‘You can spare a few, I’m sure. And seeing as I’ve saved your mane, maybe you will start wearing a shirt?’ she asked, hoping her tone was less pleading and more irritated.
Green eyes flicked up to meet hers. Then a low deep laugh rumbled up from his throat. Unfettered. Sexy. Spellbinding. The sound, rarely heard and not at all recently, wrapped around her. It only lasted a handful of seconds but every cell in her body lifted, strained towards the incredible sound.
‘You agree to no more carrying heavy stuff around and I’ll think about it,’ he replied.
‘Okay, fine. I agree.’
He muttered something Spanish under his breath before resuming his stride down the hallway. When they reached the salon, he held the door open for her. The sun-drenched beauty of the room never failed to soothe her. She walked around, trailing her fingers over priceless antique furniture steeped in history.
Ramon stayed at the entrance of the salon, leaning against the door frame and studying her for a long moment. When his scrutiny got too much, she dropped her hand from the bronze bust she’d been examining. ‘Is there any reason you’re staring at me like that?’
‘I’ve started working on the first piece he made me promise to do for you,’ he said, his voice containing a solemn tone that made her heart kick.
‘He...you mean Luis?’
Ramon nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘You’re sculpting and painting again.’
His face was unreadable. ‘Sí, it seems I am.’
Suki wanted to ask how...when...why? Too scared of the answer, she ventured softly instead, ‘I...am I allowed to know what it is?’
‘It’s a sculpture. But I haven’t decided what it’ll be yet. I sketched out a few ideas. But I need a live representation. I choose you.’
Shock slayed her. ‘Me?’
‘To be the subject, sí.’
A shiver went through her. There was something viscerally exposing about what he was asking. ‘I’m not...are you—?’
‘Don’t think up excuses.’
‘I wasn’t. I was just going to ask if you were sure.’
He shrugged. ‘I have tried several inanimate objects. They’re not working. You are the most convenient living test subject.’
‘Wow, suddenly I don’t feel so special,’ she muttered.
A heavy and bleak expression fleeted through his eyes. ‘You were special to him. I should’ve considered you first and saved myself much wasted time.’
Her hurt abated a little even though she knew she would need a scalpel to dig out the precious meaning hidden in his words.
‘Will you do it?’ he rasped.
It would be a gift from her best friend from beyond the grave. One she could cherish for ever. ‘Yes, of course I will.’
He gestured her forward. ‘Good. Let’s go.’
She looked down at the white cotton, short-sleeved tunic she’d thrown on hastily this morning to meet the restorers. Beneath it, she wore the canary-yellow bikini that had fast become her favourite swimsuit. ‘Do I need to change?’
He conducted a long scrutiny from loose hair to sandalled feet. ‘No, you’re fine as you are.’
They left the villa by way of a little-used hallway at the back of the villa. Like everywhere in the villa and on the grounds, the winding stone path dissecting the back garden and leading to Ramon’s brick and glass studio was immaculately kept. He punched in a code and the sturdy double doors sprang ajar.
Her preconceived idea of what Ramon’s artist’s studio would look like was smashed to smithereens the second she walked in. He’d cleaned up the carnage, obviously, but still, expecting the stereotypical, paint-splattered chaos of a passionate artist’s creative space, she froze to a halt at what confronted her.
On either side of the whitewashed walls, rows of tall and short objects were covered with black cloth. And on the long bench that held dozens of pots of paint and brushes, each one was laid out at a precise angle.
