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"Not a chance."
He closed the distance between them once more, his hands settling over her shoulders gently. He squeezed the tension out of them, thumbs rubbing the tight muscles until she wanted to moan.
"This is for you. Enjoy it, Isabel."
The words whispered into her ear left her swallowing hard and inhaling a shaky breath. "Okay. Thank you. Again. I'll try to put it to good use."
Given the number of canvases in the room, she'd be hard-pressed to use even a few of them before her time in New York came to a close, but she could tell she wasn't going to win this battle. When she left, Everett could do whatever he liked with the remaining items. Maybe a local art school would get a nice donation.
"Stay here and look around, get familiar with everything in case you do see something missing. I'll go order something for dinner. Any requests?"
Requests? How could she ask for more given all he'd already done? "I’d say surprise me but I’m a little afraid to." His rough chuckle drifted over her senses, and she couldn't hold back the smile that formed. "Just don't order the entire menu," she added, lifting a hand to indicate the abundance around them. "Something super simple is fine."
He kissed the top of her head.
"Isabel?"
"Hmm?"
"Welcome home."
Maybe he had gonea little overboard, Everett mused later as he sat beside Isabel at the quartz kitchen counter eating dinner. But the joy on her face when she'd seen the room filled to the brim with art supplies had been worth it. He liked that he'd been able to do that for her, give her something that meant so much, even though to him it had only meant a phone call.
"You're staring at me again."
His lips quirked at the corners, and he realized, around Isabel, smiling had become a regular occurrence. "You're beautiful."
She plucked at the pepperoni atop her pizza and plopped it into her mouth. Around it she said, "Flattery will get you nowhere."
"Mmm. Better up my game then."
"Everett—"
"Shh. I meant what I said, Isabel. No pressure," he said with a shake of his head. "But I make no promises to not flirt and tease and do my very best to romance you."
"Divorce isn't failure, you know. Sometimes, it's the best thing to happen even though it's painful and disappointing at the time."
He lifted his hand and brushed a tendril of hair away from her cheek, lingering over the touch because her skin felt so soft. "Are we a bad thing?"
"No. It's just... It's hard to see our weird situation becoming anything more."
Now they were getting somewhere. "Why is that?” he asked, desperate to draw her out and get some insight. With that insight, he could form a battle plan.
Isabel shifted her gaze to his and he watched as she struggled for words. He wanted inside her head. Wanted to know what he was up against when it came to winning the chance to be more. The very fact that she wasn't chomping at the bit tostaymarried now that she knew who he was told him a lot about her. It hinted at her integrity and desire to be true to herself. To do what's right. And maybe if divorcing her didn't meant failure in his mind, he'd be honest enough to say he agreed with the thought. In theory. Under the circumstances, there was no reason to believe they could work. Except…he did believe it.
"I don't see how I can ever fit into your world," she said finally. "I'm not schedules and business suits or fancy lunches with the wives of your executives."
He braced his hands on her stool on either side of her hips and leaned toward her, very aware of the way she stiffened in her seat. "I could've found that already, Isabel, if that's what intrigued me."
"S-so it's because I'm a slightly obsessive-compulsive artist that you find me attractive? Sounds to me like you need therapy."
He spread his knees and used his hold to drag her stool the couple of inches separating them, pinning her knees between his and trapping her in his hold. "Maybe," he said softly, "I need a woman unlike myself. Someone to make me remember to appreciate color and life and...a sassy attitude."
"Well, if it's sass you want—"
He kissed her again, gaze on hers until her lashes fluttered low and she hid from him once more. She tasted of pizza and wine, of sass and backtalk and all the things that made Isabel her creative, seductive, fascinating self.
She gasped softly and pulled away, ending the kiss and flicking her tongue over her lower lip in a gesture that made him groan. "Don't do that."
