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A small blonde woman held out her hand. Jack shook it, and then said, "This is Holly Taylor."
"A pleasure, Ms. Taylor," Professor Fleming said. "You look familiar. Have we met?"
Holly cleared her throat. "I’m in your perceptual drawing class at the community college."
"Ah, yes, that’s it." He reddened just a bit, but Holly noticed. "Then you were there when Jack—"
"Yeah, she was, but that’s not how we met, so get your mind out of the gutter." Jack exchanged a smile with the older man.
Holly’s cheeks warmed. Get his mind out of the gutter? If he knew how they’d actually met, he wouldn’t think the whole nude model thing was that bad.
She stifled a giggle. "I’m really excited about this exhibit, Professor."
"Please, call me Mark and I hope you enjoy it," he said. "I know Jack’ll take good care of you."
"Count on it, Mark," Jack said, then excused himself and Holly and led her to the first wall of oil paintings.
Holly didn’t enjoy abstracts much, so she was glad Mark had only a few in his exhibit. She much preferred landscapes and portraits. She drank in the colors, the textures, examining each painting closely, then from farther away.
"Wow," Jack said beside her, his warm breath caressing her neck.
"What?"
"You’re looking at each one like it’s unique."
"Each one is unique, silly."
"That’s not what I meant. Heck, I don’t know what I meant. It’s just...beautiful, the way you sink into the art, like you’re becoming one with it."
"I kind of am, I guess. I love art. I always have. I should have learned to create way before now, but—" She sighed. "—life gets in the way sometimes. Decisions get made for the wrong reasons."
Jack said no more and Holly went on to the next painting. It was a little boy on a chestnut horse. Clad in jeans and cowboy boots, he looked to be about five or six years old. Mark had captured his youthful beauty with tiny strokes of the brush. The child’s dark hair and eyes gazed outward, as if he were looking through Holly.
"Gorgeous," she said under her breath.
"You like that one?" Jack said.
"Yes, it’s wonderful. The horse and the child almost seem like one being and the child’s innocence is depicted so beautifully. I can’t believe Mark is only now showing this stuff."
"Oh, I think it’s kind of like you said. Decisions get made. He didn’t decide to get serious about his own work until later in his life."
"That’s sad. I hope this exhibit is successful. In fact, I think I’d like to buy this painting."
"I don’t think that particular one’s for sale, sugar." Jack handed her the program. "It’s not listed."
Holly leafed through the pamphlet. He was right. "Shoot. Well, I’d like to support my professor. I’ll have to find another, I guess."
Holly chose a painting of an older woman gardening. It didn’t move her quite as much as the little boy on the horse, but it was beautiful nonetheless and the color scheme would look great in her loft. She and Jack said goodnight to Mark and took the downtown shuttle back to Holly’s loft.
Jack smiled as he entered the passcode. They took the elevator up and she fished her keys out of her purse and handed them to Jack.
Why had she handed the keys to Jack?
It had been an unconscious move on her part. Weird.
He unlocked the door and followed her in. He set the painting on the floor and smiled at her.
That gorgeous, sexy, heart-stopping smile.
