Page 9 of Painting Her

Waiters in black suits and white shirts balance trays of champagne, weaving their way expertly through the large crowd of attendees.

I notice all the envious stares most of the women aged eighteen to eighty shoot in my direction as we try make our way to a less busy part of the exhibition. Of course the stares are because at Blake, not me.

“Wow,”’ Robin exclaims and stops in front of a smaller painting.

I am swept away by the beauty of the young woman in the work of art. I tilt my head to the side and glance at Blake, acutely aware of his intense gaze on me.

“You should model for him,” Robin says loud enough for everyone to hear before she moves onto the next painting.

I would have liked to hit her, best friend or not. It is as if all eyes are suddenly upon me. The women shoot poison arrows in my direction and if looks could kill I’m sure I would be a pile of ashes on the floor beside playboy Blake, who ‘s clearly enjoying the spectacle.

I decide not to reply and instead follow my ex-best friend. Oh, I’ll have some words for her next time we were alone. I feel conscious of the sound of my stiletto heels echoing on the concrete floor and I wish I had chosen different footwear, something less attention-drawing.

As I walk from painting to painting I cannot help but be impressed. Art isn’t exactly my forte, but I know enough to appreciate good paintings when I see one.

Most of the subjects are women, of course. But they’re not the nudes I had expected. There are nudes apparently, but they’re not in your face. Most are surprisingly discreet.

“I still want you to model for me. You’re the perfect combination of beauty and sex appeal.” I can hear Blake speaking softly in my ear and those butterflies have come back in millions. My knees wobble a little and I hope they won’t give way.

I can’t remember the last time Dale said I was pretty, sexy or beautiful.

“I bet you say that to all the women you want to have your way with.” The words are out before I can stop them.

Moving on to the next painting my eyes feast on a young woman who is leaning on a windowsill. She has a faraway look in her eyes. Blake has captured the longing of the woman perfectly.

I focus on the finer details. Her arms folded. Pink lace of a bra is just visible with her white blouse unbuttoned to just above the gap between her breasts. It is suggestive, but not offensive.

“You’re jumping to conclusions.”

His voice brings me back to reality, as does the gesture of his left index finger stroking my cheek.

“Um,” I’m lost for words.

“Will you at least have dinner with me?”

I feel my resistance crumble and desire sweep through me.

Before I can stop myself I nod.

Chapter 6

Blake

"You know what's sexier than chocolate?" I say, looking over my shoulder at Katherine from the stove.

"Nothing is sexier than chocolate," she says with a smile.

"Chocolate and chili."

"I don't know," she says, scrunching her nose. "That sounds strange as a combo if you ask me."

"Try this," I say, motioning for her to join me in the kitchen. I spoon some of the sauce from the pan and hold it out to her. "I think you'll like it."

She leans in, parting her mouth. I place the spoon on her tongue.

"Good, right?"

"Oh wow, there's some heat to that, but it's…amazing," she says.

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