Page 10 of The Charmer

“This is a private commission, a gift for a friend’s sister, so it will hang in her home.”

“This isn’t the fabled friend-of-a-friend and it’s actually for your private collection?”

His smug chuckle made Ariel grit her teeth, as she wondered if the use of duct tape over a model’s mouth would be frowned upon by any worker’s union.

“Sorry to disappoint, but this sort of art doesn’t do it for me.” Liar.

“Then what does?”

Damn it, she’d been the queen of quick comebacks all her life. She had to be, living on the streets. But this guy fired back with a skill to be envied.

“None of your business, Mr. Shy-and-Retiring, before whipping off your clothes in record time.”

He pretended to pout. “Hey, that’s not fair. You practically shoved me behind that screen, and I was absolutely terrified you’d actually rip them off me if I didn’t hurry up.”

His cocky smile showed her just how terrified he’d been at the thought of her tearing off his clothes, while simultaneously doing crazy things to her insides: her stomach flipped and somersaulted, a reminder she hadn’t eaten dinner. She’d tried before Cooper arrived, but the thought of seeing all that gorgeous expanse of bare, tanned skin again had ruined her appetite.

“You wish,” she said, aiming for a frown but failing miserably when their gazes locked over her easel and something zinged between them, a zap of invisible electricity that made her heart join her stomach in the gymnastic stakes. “Don’t you ever shut up?”

Ariel’s retort sounded short and sharp in the loaded silence, and she ducked behind the easel, buying valuable time to gather her wits and get her breathing under control. Alongside her pounding heart, her lungs had joined the party and deprived her of much-needed oxygen.

Must be more of those nasty paint fumes affecting her again.

Yeah, right.

“It’s pretty boring sitting here doing nothing but pose for you,” he said. “A little conversation breaks the monotony.”

He sounded reasonable enough and she snuck a peek, wondering if he was being serious or teasing her again. To her mortification, he caught her furtive glance and winked, exacerbating her embarrassment.

Yeah, she could definitely strangle him.

Once she’d captured his exquisite body on canvas, that is.

“Have you always been an artist?”

She picked up a charcoal nub, determined to ignore him, but his question seemed innocuous enough and his voice had lost its teasing lilt.

“I loved drawing as a kid. I graduated from chalk drawings on sidewalks to etchings on paper. When other kids were playing hopscotch, I’d be sketching their faces. Later, I did a bachelor of arts to help with the teaching side of things if I ever chose to go down that path, but basically, I’ve worked alongside Barb here forever. We loved art so much…”

Her fingers stilled as she wondered what had possessed her to reveal so much to a guy she didn’t know, a guy she didn’t even particularly like that much.

The cosy ambience of the studio at night seemed conducive to shared confidences, but Cooper wasn’t a friend and she’d be smarter remembering it.

“Anyway, that’s it for now. I think I’ve done all I’m going to do tonight. It’s been a long day.” She didn’t look at him as she wiped her hands on a dusty rag, wishing he’d hurry up and get dressed so she could shove him out the door.

For a guy she hardly knew—and didn’t want to know—Cooper had her in a spin, answering questions she’d usually ignore, deriving comfort from confiding in another human when she had so little social contact with anyone.

What a sad case.

“Ariel?”

“Yeah?”

She looked up, grateful he’d slipped into jeans and a white T shirt quickly, sensing her need to get rid of him without delay.

“Whatever happens, you should be proud of what you’ve done with this place.”

“Thanks,” she said, surprised by his serious expression and somewhat confused by what he’d said.

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