Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

" C an I take a look?"

Cooper wiggled his fingers and toes in an effort to restore circulation to his extremities, grateful this modelling gig would be over soon.

Not that he didn't enjoy spending one on one time with Ariel, who surprised him at every turn, but he needed to seal the deal before next Friday. He had a feeling the investors wouldn't be too impressed if he stalled again.

As for his dad, he'd been close to up and leaving, contract or not, several times this week. They didn't just not see eye to eye any more, they seemed to be on a different path altogether. Eric had stringent ideas regarding his company's future and he treated Cooper like a subordinate whose ideas were crap. He'd had enough.

"Stop moving. I need to capture the arch of your right foot tonight and I'm done." She glared at him over the easel, dabbing her brush in the paints on a worn palette next to her before returning her attention to the canvas.

Even with a smudge of paint on her cheek, her curls escaping their customary bandanna—zebra stripes tonight—and falling across her forehead, and dark circles under her eyes courtesy of how hard she must be pushing to finish this portrait in record time, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

From the bottom of her pink raffia ballet shoes to her anglaise bolero worn over a chartreuse ribbed singlet, she looked adorable, a bright spark in his otherwise dull day.

As for those shorts she wore…for the last three nights, tonight included, he'd been subjected to long, gorgeous legs poking out from truly ugly shorts. Vintage tartan checks, awful blue flowers against mustard backgrounds, and purple polka dots against turquoise. Thankfully, her eclectic taste in clothes hadn't blinded him to the beauty of her luscious legs and he'd done his fair share of looking while she'd been studying him.

"When you say you're done, is that done as in finished completely?"

"You wish," she said, absentmindedly twisting a curl around a finger while dabbing at the canvas.

Actually, he didn't. The logic, business side of his brain was yelling ‘hell yeah' but his lonely side, the emotional side he'd deliberately shut down courtesy of his father's increasing indifference, wished they could stay ensconced in her cosy studio forever.

"How much longer?"

Exhaling loudly, she stabbed her brush into a glass jar of water, rolled her neck a few times, stood, and arched her back in a stretch. "Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?"

"Anyone ever tell you that you're great at avoiding answering questions?"

After another cat-like stretch that had him averting his eyes in record time when she looked at him, she said, "If you must know, I'm almost done. I just need to get a few details of your face completed and that's it."

"Tonight?"

His heart sank. As much as he liked being here, he'd had a long day at the office and needed to finalise a report for a presentation first thing Monday morning.

She laughed, a genuine throaty chuckle that made him want to join in. "With you sounding so enthusiastic, I guess not. Why don't you get dressed and I'll make us a hot drink."

Cooper tried not to screw up his face. If he had to endure one more cup of her foul-tasting herbal brews or equally horrid coffee, he'd happily walk away from this deal here and now.

"I've got a better idea. Why don't we grab a coffee at the café across the street? The place looks new, they could probably do with the business."

"Before you tear it down, you mean?"

Her smile vanished and he couldn't tell if she was serious or joking. Either way, he was too tired to argue.

"Whatever you decide to do, I'm heading over there for the largest strong black they've got. I have a long night ahead of me."

A flicker of remorse crossed her face and she disguised it by tidying up her work space. "Hot date, huh?"

"Yeah, the hottest," he said, sliding his oldest cotton T-shirt over his head and slipping into faded denim. "Just my slinky little lap top and me."

"Do you enjoy what you do?"

He stepped out from behind the screen to find her perched on the stool he'd just vacated, those spectacular legs tucked up on the rung underneath, a curious look on her paint-smudged face.

"It's challenging. I like seeing things develop and take shape from the infant stages right through to the finished product. You can identify with that, surely?"

He expected a vehement rebuttal but to his surprise she nodded, a tiny frown between her brows as if she was pondering what he'd said.

"Yeah, I can. Apart from the whole creative side of art, I love seeing something develop before my eyes. It's hard work but the reward is worth it."

"Exactly."

They locked stares, his challenging, hers curious. However, before she could chastise him for being a developer or tease him about his uptight ways, he turned away and shrugged into his leather jacket.

"Right, I have a mega strong espresso waiting with my name all over it. I'm out of here."

He sent her a casual wave, a major part of him wishing she'd join him. They'd chatted a fair bit while she worked but he still didn't know what made her tick. She'd deliberately kept things light between them and he hadn't pushed, despite hoping to understand the rationale behind her absolute refusal to sell the gallery.

There had to be more to it, more than a promise to a dead aunt.

He'd bide his time, knowing the pitch he'd prepared to deliver would convince her. If there was one thing he had learned, the gorgeous woman with the kooky dress sense had a brain in her head and hopefully, she'd see his proposal for what it was: a smart business decision and a win-win solution for them all.

He'd barely taken a step when she slid off the stool, picked up a giant straw hold-all that looked like it could easily contain the proverbial sink and then some, and smoothed her wrinkled shorts.

"I think I'll come with you. I've been cooped up in this place working every night for a week straight. A change of scene will do me good."

"So it's not my scintillating company that enticed you to join me?"

"Honestly? No."

She matched his sardonic grin, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze head-on. The minute he reached out to touch her cheek, he knew it was a mistake. But then, he'd hardly been his usual rational, conventional self since setting foot in this place.

"You have a paint smudge right here." He slid his finger down her cheek, slowly, gently, her velvety smooth skin a magnet to his touch.

He should've pulled away the second her luminous green eyes widened and her lush mouth formed a small O, but instead he lingered, savouring the close contact, the intimacy enveloping them as surely as the heady perfume she wore.

"Thanks," she said, stepping away to rub at her cheek, her eyes never leaving his. "Just give me a second to get cleaned up and I'll be right with you."

"No problems."

He lied.

His reaction to the beautiful artist was definitely a problem, a major one.

He had no qualms about her focussing on the business side of the deal he proposed but the million dollar question was, could he?