Page 12 of The Charmer

But that couldn’t be right. Guys like him didn’t have a conscience and they never took no for an answer. They wheeled and dealed their way to the top regardless of the little people trampled in the process.

Well, she had news for him. This little person wouldn’t let him near her place again let alone allow him to buy it and ruin her plans for the future.

Cooper the marauding model could develop some other property to acquire, preferably in Timbuktu.

“That was awesome,” Chelsea said, slapping her on the back. “You sure showed him who was boss.”

Fatigued, Ariel watched Cooper march up the street past the organic fruiterers, the vegan takeout stand, and the Nepalese homewares, before turning the corner where he’d probably hidden some fancy sports car.

Lying jerk.

Damn lying jerk that had gotten under her skin in two short meetings. And to make matters worse, she had to work from memory to finish the portrait when the last thing she felt like doing was resurrecting memories of the jerk’s body and how great it would look on canvas.

“You okay?” Chelsea asked.

“Yeah. How did you know who he was?”

“I’ve seen him around the Fitzroy area over the last few months. Mr Fancy-Schmancy works for a company that is responsible for ousting the Ng’s from the corner grocer’s, the Bortelli’s from their café, and closing down the old Irish pub, all in the name of development.” Chelsea held up her index fingers on both hands and made inverted comma signs. “I hate guys like him. They’ve never done it tough. They don’t know the first thing about the area or locals like me who live in it. They bulldoze their way in and rip lives apart. Tell me you won’t let them get the gallery.”

“Not if I have any say in it,” Ariel muttered, knowing she’d be in for the fight of her life if Cooper set his sights on her gallery.

Chelsea threw her arms wide and did a three-sixty. “I love this place. All the local kids do. Barb made it more welcoming than any halfway house and you’ve continued the tradition. You can’t let those bloodsuckers take it.”

Ariel managed a weary smile, buoyed by Chelsea’s enthusiasm but more afraid than she’d ever been. She’d known about the property developers buying up every last piece of prime Brunswick Street land, but to hear Chelsea verbalise it somehow made the threat all the more real.

“Don’t worry. I have no intention of letting them anywhere near Colour by Dreams.”

Chelsea clapped her hands like an excited child. “Good, because my first showing is here in a week and I want the world to see my brilliance.”

“And your modesty,” Ariel said with a wry grin, trying to banish the threatening image of Cooper’s final glower before he marched away out of her mind and what it could mean for the gallery. “Now, how about some tea and you can tell me why you dropped by?”

Chelsea lead the way out the back, bouncing with vitality, her pashmina trailing in her wake like a bright flag. Ariel followed, knowing it would take more than herbal tea to dispel her anxiety at the moment.

“Wow!”

The minute Chelsea laid eyes on the preliminary portrait sketches Ariel had done of Cooper, her red suede boots flew across the floor to stop dead in front of the easel.

“I’ll take that as a compliment to my artistic skills and not the subject in question,” Ariel said, busying herself making tea and hoping she had enough sketches to create a final portrait from.

Chelsea grinned, tearing her gaze from the sketches for a second. “Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re the best artist this side of the Louvre, but wowee. That guy might be a slime-ball but he is one hot slime-ball.”

“I should’ve known he was too good to be true,” Ariel said, trying not to scald herself as she poured boiling water into mugs, her hands shaking in anger at how Cooper had fooled her. “Model, my butt.”

“Unfortunately, doesn’t look like you got to that part, worse luck.”

Chelsea winked as Ariel handed her a mug of steaming lemongrass and ginger, the young woman’s favourite, while she tentatively sipped at her peppermint brew, the steam heating her cheeks.

Or was that the thought of Cooper’s butt? The same butt she should’ve kicked given half a chance.

“Shouldn’t be a problem. I can improvise.” Sadly, Ariel knew her imagination wasn’t that good.

“Whatever.”

Chelsea shrugged and took a seat on one of the ruby sofas, curling her long, legging-clad legs beneath her while she cradled her mug.

“What’s with the long face?”

Ariel didn’t need any more problems right now. She had enough of her own to keep her busy into the next century.

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