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“See. Weird,” she said and tried to hide her face.
What in the hell?
Jack tugged at her hands and gazed directly into her eyes. “Am I missing something? You make sculptors of what? Cocks?”
He smiled, but it faded quickly.
“Things. Abstract things out of my head. From materials. All kinds of things. The earth. Metal. Cloth. Stuff.”
“Do you like them?” Jack asked.
Now, it was her time to do all the blinking. When her eyes darted away, his own eyes followed briefly, then back at her. She smiled, even though he could tell she didn’t want to.
“Answer the question.” He demanded.
“You are such a lawyer.” Amelia huffed. “Yes, I like them.”
He laid back down and tugged her up against him again.
She was being silly.
“Then it doesn’t matter if they’re weird. You like them, and I’m guessing you enjoy what you do.”
She stayed quiet, lying her head on his chest for a long time, then finally glanced up at him. “Do you think it’s weird?”
The vulnerability in her eyes nearly undid him, but he wasn’t going to say a word. He did, however, want to kick the ass of the person responsible for making her second guess herself and her talents.
“No. I think you’re an artist. I don’t have a creative bone in my body, so anyone willing to put themselves out there and show the world their creations is brave in my opinion.”
He meant every single word, too.
Amelia’s eyes lit up like diamonds, and it tugged at his heart to think she’d been made to feel like her art was nothing short of incredible.
Not that he’d seen it.
“Who told you it was weird?” Jack asked. “Out of curiosity. Just humor me. Was it your dad?”
She nodded.
“Yes. Good guess.”
“Dads are good like that,” he said, remembering his own father making a few digs at him when he was younger. Jack had been born with thick skin, though—a trait he needed to be successful in politics.
Still, he wouldn’t put a brush to paper and let critics at him, so everyone had their limits.
Jack scanned his memory, trying to remember if he knew who her father might be. Jonathan Dufort was the founder of the hotel chain, but he didn’t recall Daniel having a sister.
Or she was kept out of the media.
“Wait until you sell some big pieces, then, he’ll realize how wrong he is,” Jack said, running his hand over her hip.
Amelia bit the side of her cheek, and he knew he’d missed something.
Wait a minute. Chang seemed to know her well, but he’d assumed it was because of Stella and the Dufort name. It went without saying her family would own pricey art.
He flipped her on the bed one more and, this time, tickled her.
Amelia giggled.
