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“And Noah James is one of the good ones. He, too, was impressed by your last piece.”
Noah James. I’ve seen his work around the studio. He’s the featured artist—hell, his work is plastered around here, if it doesn’t sell right away.
He’s elusive, rarely coming to his premieres, and sharing virtually nothing on social media. Sometimes being mysterious drives up both demand and price.
“He’s pretty popular. Why would he want to go out with me?” I blurt out, the insecurity that plagues me rearing its ugly head.
She chuckles and flicks her eyes from my painting to me. “You’re not looking for anything serious, and neither is Noah. I figured you could both use a fun night. You two can get what you need from each other, and maybe I’ll get more pieces from both of you.”
“You mean use him as a muse?” I ask, snorting at the idea.
“Not necessarily,” she murmurs, but her attention is already refocused on the piece.
* * *
Meetinga blind date at a coffee shop is so fucking cliché, but here I am, waiting for the man Kate generically described as dark hair, dark eyes, and tall. Fuck, she just describedme.
“Ashton?” a velvety smooth voice asks from behind me. The words send shivers through my entire body.
I whirl around to take him in. Fuck,it’s him, from today. Noah James was leaving the studio at the same time, and hell, he has similar features as me. His hair is kept short like mine, and his eyes are a similar deep caramel color. He’s taller by about two inches, and I’m not a short man. Fuck, he must be six-four or maybe even six-five.
“It’s you. From earlier,” he observes as he rakes his fingers through hair as thick as mine. “I kicked my ass for the last hour, wishing I’d stopped to introduce myself. And now, you’re here.”
“Noah?” I ask, and I know that if he’s not Noah, this is the guy I want to take home. No one else will do.
“That’s me.” His smile is contagious, and I match his, because I’m happy. This date may actually go according to plan.
“Thank goodness,” I say out loud.
“I guess it’s a good thing I’m me, then.” He winks. I love it when a man winks, and I think it’s his way of saying he agrees with me.
I lean in, and I’m being rather forward, which isn’t something I do, but I don’t care. “It’s a really good thing.”
I start to pull back but he catches me by the waist, tugging me flush with him. “On my end, it’s a really good thing, too.”
This is a connection I can use to my benefit. I could say, let’s skip the pleasantries and go back to his place, but I find I don’t want to.
He lets go of my waist and I back up, but just a smidge. I like the closeness with him and it’s natural, as if I’ve known him my whole life.
“I had every intention of taking you back to my place to fuck you, but that seems like a waste of such a good-looking guy like yourself, don’t you think?” he muses.
“Same, man, same.”
“Wanna get out of here and get some dinner?” he asks.
I find it’s exactly what I want to do. “Yeah, I really do.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here, then.” He makes a beeline for the door, and I stay close.
* * *
The banterbetween us is natural. We’ve been sitting at the table for over an hour, but Noah’s assured the waiter he’ll take care of him with a sizable cash tip.
“My art is a little more abstract, and dark. I’ve been told I must have lived a dark life in one of my previous lives.”
I sip on my wine. It’s only my third, because I need a clear mind tonight. “I’ve noticed, but you’re a genius. It inspires me.” He covers his face with his hands, fidgeting and squirming. Compliments must make him uncomfortable. “You have to know your art is astonishing.” Noah shrugs his shoulders, but I know the truth. His work sells. He’s been the featured artist at Kate’s studio for the past four months. The money has to be piling in for him. “So, tell me about your family.”
In our time together, we’ve spoken mostly of art, and for both of us, we could talk about the history, our influences, various museums we’ve been to, and our techniques, but I find I have to know more about what makes Noah James tick.
