Page 11 of The Charmer

But she was too tired to think about it let alone ask him to explain as she hurried him to the door, flicking the lock and all but wrenching it off its hinges in her haste to see the back of him.

As the door swung open and a chilly gust of wind blew it out of her hands, Chelsea Lynch, her protégée, rushed into the gallery in a flurry of turquoise denim, red pashmina, emerald scarf, and floppy fuchsia beanie.

Cooper took a polite step back, nodded at Chelsea, and turned to Ariel. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We really need to talk.”

Ariel flashed him a tight smile, thinking her talking days with the too good-looking model were over if she had to finish his portrait with her sanity intact.

Chelsea’s head swung between the two of them, her eyes wide with shock, her mouth hanging open before pointing an accusing finger at Cooper and shouting, “What’s he doing here?”

“Cooper’s a model.”

“Like hell he is.”

Chelsea unwound her scarf in furious swirls, not taking her flashing hazel eyes off Cooper for a second. “He’s the scumbag who’s been buying up the street and I bet he has his sights set on this place next.”

Ariel’s protest died on her lips as she saw Cooper’s stricken, guilty expression a second before she acted on instinct, her palm landing squarely in the middle of his broad chest and shoving him out the door.

Hard.

Chapter Eight

Ariel tried to slam the door in Cooper’s face but took a moment too long. The lying cretin stuck one of his shoes in the doorjamb and as tempted as she was to amputate it, she couldn’t afford a lawsuit on top of everything else at the minute.

“Get out!” Ariel jiggled the door, hoping he’d take the hint with the way she’d shoved him out the door.

“Let me explain—”

“Explain what? That you’re a miserable, lying snake or that you’re so desperate you’d take off your clothes to get inside info for your proposed takeover?”

She planted her hands on her hips, fury surging through her body at being taken for a fool. Living on the streets as a youngster, people had assumed she was stupid, equating a dowdy appearance with nil intelligence, and she’d hated it.

She’d shown everyone and then some.

Exactly how she would show Cooper whatever-his-name-was after giving him a verbal flaying he’d never forget.

“He took his clothes off?” Chelsea’s eyes bulged as she plucked off her beanie and ran a hand through her short, spiky, red hair. “That is desperate.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Cooper said, a faint pink flushing his tanned cheeks as his bashful gaze focussed on hers. “I tried to tell you the truth a few times but you always shot me down, talked over me, or didn’t want to know.”

Ariel rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. Guys like you can talk underwater with a mouth full of marbles for business, and you think you couldn’t get the message across because I wouldn’t let you?” She snorted. “What a load of crap. You kept your big mouth shut because you wanted to sleaze your way into my good graces.”

“That’s telling him,” Chelsea murmured, and Ariel shot her a quelling glance to keep out of it.

While Ariel was grateful for her star pupil outing the rat, she could fight her own battles. Always had, always would.

“Can we talk in private?” Cooper’s steady gaze locked on hers, urgent, compelling, willing her to listen.

Too bad for him, she’d listened to enough of his lies already.

She shook her head. “I’m not interested in anything you have to say. Now, if you don’t mind removing your big foot from my door and shoving it back into your mouth, I have work to do.”

“This isn’t the end,” Cooper said, his earnest expression meaning business as he removed his foot from the doorway.

“That’s what you think.”

Ariel slammed the door, grateful for the double reinforced glass. It saved her from shattering the windows and afforded a fantastic view of the look on Cooper’s face.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he appeared ashamed.

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