Page 53 of Gabriel's Angel

He tugged harder. “Not bad?”

“Shows promise.” With a quick laugh, she ducked before he could pull her hair again. “Why don’t you submit some sample sketches for consideration?”

“And my fee?”

He was smiling; her skin was warming. Laura began to think the nightmare had been a blessing in disguise. “Negotiable.”

“Tell you what. I’ll do the mural on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“That you let me paint you again, nude.”

Her eyes widened. Then she laughed, sure he was joking. “You should at least let me wear a beret.”

“You’ve been watching too many old movies, but you can wear a beret if you like—just nothing else.”

“I couldn’t.”

“All right, then, scratch the beret.”

“Gabe, you’re not serious.”

“Of course I am.” To prove it, and to please himself, he ran a hand over her. “You have a beautiful body... long dancer’s limbs, smooth white skin, a narrow waist.”

“Gabe.” She spoke to stop not his roaming hands but his conversation. She stopped neither.

“I’ve wanted to paint you nude since the first time we made love. I can still see the way you looked when I drew the nightgown away. Capturing that femininity, that subtle sexuality, would be a triumph.”

She laid her cheek on his heart. “I’d be embarrassed.”

“Why? I know what you look like. Every inch of you.” He cupped her breasts, scraping his thumbs lightly over her nipples. Her instant response rippled through him.

“No one else does.” Her voice was husky now. Hardly realizing it, she began to run her hands over him. The journey was long, lazy, thorough.

There was something incredibly exciting about the idea. No one else knew the secrets of her body, the dips and curves. No one else knew how a touch here, a stroke there, could make her shyness melt into passion. He did want to capture that on canvas, the beauty of her, the sweetness of her inhibitions. The fire of passion just discovered. But he could wait.

“I suppose I could just hire a model.”

Her head came up at that. “You—” The jealousy rose, so swift and powerful that it left her momentarily speechless.

“It’s art, angel,” he said, amused and not at all displeased. “Not a centerfold.”

“You’re trying to blackmail me.”

“You’re very sharp.”

Her eyes narrowed. In deliberate seduction that surprised them both, she shifted so that her body rubbed tantalizingly over his. “Only if I get to choose the model.”

His pulse was thudding. As she lowered her head to brush kisses over his chest, he closed his eyes. “Laura.”

“No, Mrs. Drumberry. I met her tonight.”

He opened his eyes. But when she used her teeth to tug on his nipple he arched beneath her. “Mabel Drumberry is a hundred and five.”

“Exactly.” She chuckled but continued her explorations, with a growing sense of power and discovery. “I wouldn’t trust you closed up in your studio with some sexy young redhead with lush curves.”

He started to laugh, but the sound became a moan as her hand ranged lower. “Don’t you think I can resist a sexy young redhead?”

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