Page 8 of Painting Her

But before I can finish, Robin cuts me off. "Oh wow, look at the time," she says, pulling her cell phone from her purse. "I've gotta go. I uh – I have some plans this evening," she says, in a tone that's not totally convincing.

I watch as she gives me a quick hug and kiss on the cheek and leaves the gallery. I watch her until I can't see her anymore.

Now that she's gone, it hits me. I realize that I'm standing here, alone with Instagram-famous-superstar-artist Blake.

And he's wearing a grin wider than Texas.

Chapter 5

Katherine

Agreeing to come to the gallery is one thing, but actually making my way there is proving a point. I’m not going to become another Blake statistic.

That’s right, after I met him I did a little digging on him…Blake has aseriousreputation (fast cars and women), and he isn’t just Instagram-famous. He’s a heavyweight in the world of art – and he has the bank account and lifestyle to prove it.

But I’m still getting over having my heart broken by that two or three timing prick Dale, and I’m not about to stumble right into the next disastrous relationship. No, thank you.

When Blake asked me to show up at his exhibition, I was getting ready to say ‘no’ when I remembered Robin’s words – this might be the inspiration I need. If it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t have come at all.

But I promise – I’m not going to fall for any of the usual one-liners from men like Blake, particularly the ‘please model for me, you inspire me.’

As if.

It might work on the blonde, big busted, cleavage-revealing models Blake seems to be typically photographed with, but not on me. Besides, I have to focus on getting my creative juices flowing and to write my next bestseller.

The unfortunate reminder of my unfinished work unleashes thousands of butterflies in my stomach and little beads of sweat form in the palm of my hands.

“Someone got dressed up,” a familiar voice from behind interrupts my thoughts.

I pivot and smile at my friend, hoping I haven’t turned red like a tomato.

“Just because I’m not interested doesn’t mean I can’t look my best.”’ I defend myself, pleased to push thoughts of current failings aside.

To feel good you should look good, I’ve read somewhere.

“What are you not interested in?”

Blake has materialized next to me. He’s so close to me that I can’t help but be acutely aware of his maleness. Broad shoulders, rugged features, a partly open shirt to reveal a body honed to the point of perfection, and well-fitting pants. Despite my best endeavors, my eyes take in the full package and betray me.

To regain my composure I take a step back, only to have my heel find a crack in the pavement of the footpath. I lose my balance and instinctively reach for something to hold onto so as not to fall.

A strong hand steadies me.

Each and everyone one of my nerve cells starts to tingle. He pulls me toward him. My heart races a million miles an hour and I have to fight a sudden desire to melt in his arms. Images of two naked bodies entwined flash through my mind.

“Shall we go in?” Robin’s voice penetrates my foggy brain.

“Thank you,”’ I mutter and pull my little black dress down a little, desperate to regain composure.

Blake links arms with me, pulling me in close, in a possessive manner.

“I think I better hang on to you.” He smiles brightly at me.

My skin is burning where he’s touching me and I curse the weakness of my flesh.

Inside Out Art is not the small gallery I was expecting, the grey bland concrete exterior betraying the vast, expansive treasure hidden inside.

As soon as we enter, I catch my breath.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com