Page 4 of The Charmer

“You ready yet?” She asked, without turning around.

“Almost.”

With a wry grin, Cooper headed for the ornate Japanese screen, pulling his T-shirt off along the way. As a method to inveigle his way into a client’s confidence, he’d never imagined getting naked.

Then again, this wasn’t his fault. He’d tried to tell her the truth and she wouldn’t listen.

Ariel Wallace wanted a model and it looked like he was it.

He just hoped she wouldn’t spear him with the nearest paint brush when she discovered he’d come here to pull the easel out from under her.

Chapter Three

“Don’t move.”

Ariel picked up her third charcoal nub, tilted her head to get a better view of Cooper’s impressive pecs, and let her fingers fly across the paper, hoping to capture some of the model’s essence before her aching hand gave out completely.

Easier said than done considering she’d never seen a guy’s body like this before; all hard lines, delineated muscles, and large expanses of smooth, tanned skin.

Perfection.

“You’ve been sketching for an hour and I’m cramping.” He winced. “I’ve got to stretch my legs.”

“Oh no, you don’t.”

She glared at him, determined to get as much from this first sitting as possible. The less she saw of Cooper’s buffed body the better and the thought of having to sit through more than a few evenings of seeing his muscles in all their glory made her break out in a cold sweat.

She really needed to get out more.

“You’re a hard woman,” he muttered, shifting slightly to the left as light fell across his right shoulder, dappling his upper torso with intriguing shadows.

Magnificent.

If Sofia Montessori, Melbourne’s society matriarch wasn’t happy with this commission, nothing would satisfy her critical eye.

“I’m a businesswoman. I guess being hard goes with the territory.”

She stared at his right clavicle, hoping she could capture the exact angle, not surprised she’d focussed all her attention on his upper body and virtually ignored his bottom half.

Even with Cooper wearing boxer shorts—brief, black, poured-on boxer shorts—and his leg bent, heat flooded her cheeks at the thought of sketching Cooper in his entirety. Having such an impressive model had startled her enough for one night and she couldn’t face drawing the whole ‘life’ aspect of his body in one sitting.

“So you own this place?”

Happy to answer his question—anything to deflect her wandering attention away from those skimpy boxers—she said, “Technically, yes. My aunt opened this gallery years ago and she left it to me when she died. But what with the recent fire in the storeroom, the skyrocketing insurance premiums, and the increasing overheads, it’s getting tougher to keep the place open.”

Not that she could contemplate closing. She owed Barb, her surrogate aunt, more than she could hope to repay.

“Sorry to hear about your aunt.”

Concern flickered across his face and he glanced away, not quite able to meet her eye as a ripple of unease slid down her spine.

Cooper looked almost…guilty? He couldn’t be. What did some guy who didn’t know her have to be guilty about? It must be her exhausted mind playing tricks on her. That, and the shock of his gorgeous bod sending her wow-factor off the scale.

“Thanks. Barb was amazing. Just ask anyone along this street.”

“Everyone knew her?”

Ariel nodded. “She fostered local talent and more. Barb rarely made a profit, donating huge chunks of money to charities and doing a lot of one-on-one with the street kids in the area.”

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