Chapter 3

Chapter Three

" D on't move."

Ariel picked up her third charcoal nub, tilted her head to get a better view of Cooper's impressive pecs, and let her fingers fly across the paper, hoping to capture some of the model's essence before her aching hand gave out completely.

Easier said than done considering she'd never seen a guy's body like this before; all hard lines, delineated muscles, and large expanses of smooth, tanned skin.

Perfection.

"You've been sketching for an hour and I'm cramping." He winced. "I've got to stretch my legs."

"Oh no, you don't."

She glared at him, determined to get as much from this first sitting as possible. The less she saw of Cooper's buffed body the better and the thought of having to sit through more than a few evenings of seeing his muscles in all their glory made her break out in a cold sweat.

She really needed to get out more.

"You're a hard woman," he muttered, shifting slightly to the left as light fell across his right shoulder, dappling his upper torso with intriguing shadows.

Magnificent.

If Sofia Montessori, Melbourne's society matriarch wasn't happy with this commission, nothing would satisfy her critical eye.

"I'm a businesswoman. I guess being hard goes with the territory."

She stared at his right clavicle, hoping she could capture the exact angle, not surprised she'd focussed all her attention on his upper body and virtually ignored his bottom half.

Even with Cooper wearing boxer shorts—brief, black, poured-on boxer shorts—and his leg bent, heat flooded her cheeks at the thought of sketching Cooper in his entirety. Having such an impressive model had startled her enough for one night and she couldn't face drawing the whole ‘life' aspect of his body in one sitting.

"So you own this place?"

Happy to answer his question—anything to deflect her wandering attention away from those skimpy boxers—she said, "Technically, yes. My aunt opened this gallery years ago and she left it to me when she died. But what with the recent fire in the storeroom, the skyrocketing insurance premiums, and the increasing overheads, it's getting tougher to keep the place open."

Not that she could contemplate closing. She owed Barb, her surrogate aunt, more than she could hope to repay.

"Sorry to hear about your aunt."

Concern flickered across his face and he glanced away, not quite able to meet her eye as a ripple of unease slid down her spine.

Cooper looked almost…guilty? He couldn't be. What did some guy who didn't know her have to be guilty about? It must be her exhausted mind playing tricks on her. That, and the shock of his gorgeous bod sending her wow-factor off the scale.

"Thanks. Barb was amazing. Just ask anyone along this street."

"Everyone knew her?"

Ariel nodded. "She fostered local talent and more. Barb rarely made a profit, donating huge chunks of money to charities and doing a lot of one-on-one with the street kids in the area."

Like taking in a runaway eight-year-old and giving her a home, something Ariel had never had before. "She was a Brunswick Street icon."

"Sounds like quite a lady."

Touched by the admiration she heard in Cooper's voice, Ariel continued babbling about a subject close to her heart. "That's why this particular portrait is so important to me. I need the cash to keep the gallery open and I need it ASAP, so if I seemed a bit pushy earlier, I'm sorry."

"Chalk it up to the temperamental artist, huh?"

"You got it."

Ariel lifted her gaze from Cooper's shoulder to his face, hearing the gentle teasing in his voice and liking it way too much.

She didn't date much, she didn't socialise a lot. Keeping the gallery open and viable took up all her time and she liked it that way. Work she could rely on; people, rarely.

What was it about this guy that her wishing for something more? Wishing for an easygoing companion at the end of a hard day to listen to her rambling, to give her an encouraging smile when she needed it, to tease her?

"We're done," she said all-too-briskly, snapping shut her box of charcoals and running a weary hand over her eyes, more to block out the sight of Cooper's body than anything else.

Now that she'd stopped working, seeing him almost naked took on an intimate connotation, when the last thing she wanted or needed was to associate the words ‘naked' and ‘intimate' with him.

Especially when she had at least another four sittings until she completed the painting.

"Great."

He slid off the stool and she quickly averted her gaze, not wanting to see any more than she had to, sure his butt would be as toned as the rest of him.

"So is it finished?"

"What?"

She sank onto her ergonomic seat, blowing on the annoying curl that consistently fell across her eyes no matter how much she moussed, gelled, or waxed it, relieved he'd popped behind the screen in record time.

"I take it I'm all done here?"

His voice drifted over the screen and she closed her eyes, its rich timbre eliciting visions of smooth whiskey in front of a smouldering fire.

Great. Apart from needing to get out more, maybe she should air the studio better. The paint and turpentine fumes were definitely getting to her.

"You really haven't done this before, have you?"

"Uh…no," he said, emerging from behind the screen, his appeal not diminished in the slightest by clothes.

Especially now she knew exactly what lay beneath.

"Well, let me clue you in. You sit, I sketch, draw, paint, whatever it takes to get this baby done. Tonight, I sketched your basic form but there's a lot more to be done."

Like sketch his whole form, but she wouldn't think about that right now.

"I don't think—"

"You're not paid to think, you're paid to sit. So, how does tomorrow evening suit you?"

By the pained expression on his handsome face, it looked like he equated having a wisdom tooth extracted without anaesthetic to posing for her again, and she rushed on, not giving him an opportunity to refuse.

"No problems? Good. See you here at seven. You know the way out."

Ariel bolted up the stairs to her apartment, waiting for the front door to shut before sidling down again. After the inane chatter and banter she'd exchanged with Cooper, the gallery's silence seemed almost oppressive.

Sighing, she flicked off the light switches, secured the front door, and headed for the stairs. However, the lure of seeing what she'd achieved tonight pulled her toward her easel. Usually, she preferred to leave her work overnight and appraise it with a fresh eye in the morning, but not tonight.

Maybe it was the unusual subject she'd worked with, maybe it was professional curiosity, but whatever drew her to the myriad sketches she'd done of Cooper, the minute she laid eyes on what she'd captured, she wished she hadn't looked.

Usually modest about her work, she knew what she'd sketched tonight was some of her best work. She'd captured the curve of his jaw, his high cheekbones, the breadth of his chest, and his strong arms, perfectly. Every muscle ripple across his torso, every shaded dip of his waist, she'd managed to transfer his magnificence onto the canvas and she couldn't be happier.

She'd done such a good job she blinked, half expecting the sketch to come to life and step off the paper.

Her chest tightened at the thought of painting Cooper in his entirety and she knew it would take every ounce of her professionalism to view him as a life model and not the first interesting guy to enter her empty life in a long time.