Page 43 of Hot Shot

“It would have to be funded somehow . . .” She taps her index finger against her full bottom lip. “To rent space, buy some art supplies . . . they’d need volunteers . . .”

“That’s an ambitious project.”

She sighs. “I know. What am I thinking?”

“I like how you think. I can help.”

She blinks her crazy long eyelashes. “Really?”

“Sure. I know someone who could also probably help.”

“Who?”

“Anna Bowes. She owns the Bowes Gallery in La Jolla.”

Carrie’s mouth falls open. “You know that gallery?”

“Yeah. They’ve sold a few of my sculptures.”

“Shut up.”

I huff a laugh. “You don’t believe me?”

“No, I do! Your sculptures are amazing! But she sells some of my photographs there.”

“No shit.” I bend my head to one side. “Why didn’t you say something that night I was looking at your pictures?”

“Why didn’tyousay something that night I was looking at your sculptures?”

Our eyes meet in a little detonation of heat and sparks. I recognize something in her, the same kind of unassuming attitude about her photographs as I have about my sculptures. I love working on them, but always downplay it to other people. Why didn’t I see that in her before? She’s going all the way to Spain to study photography, for Chrissake, she must have talent to have been given that scholarship. I saw the photographs and thought they were amazing, but what do I know about photography?

“We could go talk to Anna Monday,” I say.

“I have a shoot in L.A. Monday.” She pauses. “Maybe Tuesday?”

I nod. “Sure.”

“It’s a crazy idea.”

“No. It’s not crazy at all. But yeah, it’ll be work.”

“I’m leaving,” she reminds me. “In two months.”

My gut tightens. “I know.”

She sucks in a breath. “Well. We could explore things, I guess.”

My gaze drops once more to those legs. Yeah, I want to explore things all right.

10

CARRIE

How did I get myself into this?

Okay, maybe I should be blaming Julia for this.

I rushed to Julia’s school after my photo shoot Monday afternoon, picked her up, and drove her to Conquistadors. Lauren was confused about why I was taking Julia out again so soon, so I swallowed my guilt and made up a story about taking her shopping. Luckily (or unluckily, maybe) Lauren is sufficiently self-absorbed that she didn’t question it much, no doubt relieved that she could stay at work as late as she wanted without worrying about getting home for dinner with her daughter.

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