Page 24 of The Collector's Temptation

“I like a lot of natural light when I paint,” I said as I walked up to stand beside her. “But it’s smart glass, so while I always have UV protection, I can also frost it or use a darker, even stronger UV protective tint.”

She continued to stare up in awe for a minute, then her brow furrowed, and she turned her head to look at me. Her gaze was shuttered, making me frown. I loved how expressive her eyes were. She didn’t hide her thoughts or feelings and was open and honest about who she was.

A ribbon of guilt slithered through my veins, taking me off guard. I had a damn good reason for deceiving Kerrigan and no reason to feel guilt or doubt about what I’d done. Yet I couldn’t shake off that little sliver.

“You paint?” she asked, distracting me from my thoughts.

“When I have time. Which isn’t often, unfortunately.”

I gestured for her to continue farther into the room, then set the tote bags on the counter. When I pivoted back around, she stood in front of a row of shelves, inspecting the bottles and boxes.

Putain,I mentally swore when I realized what I’d done.

Although I had hidden away all the paintings, old canvases and linen scrolls, wooden frames, beeswax, etc., I’d forgotten about some of the other paints, chemicals, and tools that could easily be attributed to forging antique paintings.

“Led white,” she murmured. “Vermillion, ochre, ultramarine. Those are unusual for modern painters.” She paused at a set of jars, then glanced over at me. “Do you make hand ground pigments?”

I shrugged breezily, strolling over to an easel a few feet to her left. “Something is enchanting about mixing paint. It’s almost soothing, a way for me to use my hands while giving my mind a rest.”

Kerrigan hummed but didn’t reply to my explanation. She continued her perusal. “Dammar varnish. Potassium permanganate. Diluted nitric acid.”

I removed the cover from the easel as I murmured, “I’ve done restoration projects in the past. I loved it, but I barely have time to pick up a brush these days.”

“Ox gall?”

I chuckled as I moved to the next covered easel. “My brother likes to mock the name whenever he sees me using it. It’s used in traditional watercolor techniques. Helps the pigment spread more evenly. Bit of a niche thing, I suppose.”

She was quiet for a few beats, then queried, “Are these handmade brushes?”

“Oui,” I answered, pretending to be distracted by the cover I was lifting off the easel. “They belonged to my grandfather.”I silently thanked him for passing those down to me. “Some brushes give different textures, especially the older handmade types. They’re not always practical, but they can add a unique flair to a painting.”

Kerrigan’s eyes swept over the shelves again before she turned to face me, nibbling her bottom lip. Then her gaze shifted to the canvas I’d uncovered, and she gasped.

“Holy cow! You painted that?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling a little awkward because I rarely shared my art with anyone outside my immediate family.

“It’s amazing,” she breathed as she moved in closer.

It was a slightly abstract landscape depicting the view from the deck on the back of my house. The sun was rising, casting a glow on the dewy grass, the leaves on the trees, and the rippling water on the small pond.

Then her eyes drifted to the other display, and she hurried over to it.

The painting depicted the Belladonna Gallery as the building had looked in the late eighteen hundreds when it was originally built.

“See how these brushes give it a different feel?” I pointed at the unique texture. “Since I painted it as it looked over a hundred years ago, I thought it was only fitting to use the antique brushes.”

The small amount of tension that had lingered in her shoulders dissipated, and she faced me with her bow-shaped lips curved into a heart-stopping smile.

“I…I don’t know what else to say,” she murmured with a bright smile. “How do you just keep on impressing me?”

“That’s my goal,” I teased. “I’m hoping you’ll be so swept away by me that you will agree to a special request.”

“Oh?”

“Not yet,” I told her with a wink. “I want to make sure you are in complete awe of me first.”

Kerrigan laughed. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Mr. Tall, Dark, and French.”

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