Slapping Reed’s chest, I know he’s teasing, and I know Jax knows he’s teasing too, yet I can’t stop the blush that creeps up my face showing my embarrassment. “Don’t pay attention to Reed, he’s still mad because I wouldn’t let him ask out the model the night we were sketching male nudes.”
Jax smiles, he looks entertained by the banter between Reed and I, so different than the reaction we’d get from Caden. Caden was always jealous of my relationship with Reed, even though he knows nothing can ever happen.
“We’re heading to my gallery showing in SoHo. Why don’t you come along…I think you’ll appreciate some of the paintings of naked women.” Reed offers with a wink.
My eyes widen when I realize what he’s doing. Feeling panicky, I stumble over my own words. “Actually, it’s going to be packed as is. Reed over invited the guest list, as usual.”
The disappointment is evident on Jax’s face, but he’s gracious nonetheless. “That’s okay. Another night maybe?”
Shit. Now he thinks I’m trying to blow him off, back peddle away from Reed’s invitation because I don’t want him going.
“I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. I’d love for you to join us. It’s just…” I trail off, biting my bottom lip anxiously as I look for the right words.
“She’s going to be buck ass naked,” Reed finishes the rest of my sentence. Not exactly how I was going to put it, but it does save me the trouble from having to say the words.
Although confused by Reed’s statement, Jax gets there’s more to the story and he seems intrigued. “You’re getting naked at a gallery?” A hint of a grin on his ridiculously handsome face doesn’t make it any easier for me to explain.
“I let Reed paint me,” quietly, I explain. “We painted each other.” Rethinking my choice of words, I clarify. “Not actually painting each other’s bodies, I mean painting on canvas,” I stumble nervously over my words. “It was our project for class. He’s included it as part of his show.”
Jax arches a perfect brow, “So the gallery is displaying a painting of you in the nude?”
“Yep, and her painting got a big fat A.” Reed answers before I can open my mouth to respond. “I think she’s planning on having me stand in front of it all night.”
“And I think you’re only having the gallery showing so you had an excuse to invite Frederick,” I counter.
“Frederick?” Jax inquires, trying to keep up.
“The male nude, the one I wouldn’t let him ask out in class while we sketched.”
Laughing, Jax shakes his head, “Sounds like you may have trouble getting him to stand in front of your painting if Frederick is walking around the gallery. But you two have fun. Another time, maybe?”
I nod and watch as Jax happily shakes Reed’s hand. Just before he reaches for the door, my mouth utters words before my brain can override the decision. “Why don’t you come with us?”
Turning back, he’s hesitant to accept my offer. Squinting to assess my sincerity, he asks, “You sure?”
I nod and respond teasingly, “You’re bigger than Reed, you can block more of the painting.”
He smiles and nods. “You got it.”
Chapter 5
Jax
The gallery is packed when we enter, but a short woman dressed in all black with tattoo’s covering every inch of her exposed arms finds us immediately.
“Lily! Oh my god, everyone is raving about your painting!” The woman hugs Lily, but I catch Lily’s face wilt at her words. Face tense, Lily bites down hard on her lower lip and tries to smile, wanting to share in her friend’s excitement¸ but it’s obvious she’s nervous.
A man with a heavy French accent grabs Reed’s arm, grumbles a few words, and the two disappear as quickly as he came with a promise to return him as soon as he can.
“You okay?” Leaning down, I whisper to Lily.
“Does it show I’m not?”
“Not too much,” I smile as I lie.
Lily laughs, “I’m sorry. I just didn’t realize how difficult it would be for me when people see it. I see models all the time without clothes and it doesn’t bother me a bit. I see art, not a naked woman. Yet when it’s me, I’m totally freaked out that people are going to see me naked.”
Stopping a waitress as she passes, I grab two crystal flutes and offer one to Lily. She declines. “You sure? Might help you calm your nerves.”
“I’m sure.” A weak smile teases her lips. “Do I look as nervous as I feel?”
“You look beautiful,” I tell her, and not because I want to calm her nerves and make her feel better. She just is. The carefully angled lighting in the gallery picks up the highlights in her wavy long blond hair, setting off a shimmer of gold that reflects off the green in her blue eyes. A few scarcely visible light freckles dot her perfect thin nose, leading down to full pink lips. Her gym attire is gone, traded in for a sexy electric blue dress that hugs her in all the right places. The hint of cle**age showing has me distracted as hell. If the painting is half as good as the real thing, it’s going to be a masterpiece.
A few minutes later, Reed returns an empty crystal flute in each hand. “You ready to go see it?”
I watch as she takes a deep breath and nervously fidgets with her hair. But then something changes. A determination passes over her delicate features. If I wasn’t watching her so closely I probably wouldn’t have even seen it. But I catch it and it makes me smile. She’s tougher than she looks on the outside and it makes her even sexier to me, if that’s even possible.
Together the three of us walk through the gallery, stopping to view each picture in silence. As we move onto each successive painting, I find my pulse beginning to quicken, wondering if the next painting will be the one.
After a dozen paintings, I’m growing impatient. Anxious, although I have no idea why. I’ve seen plenty of naked women before, both in person and painted. Hell, I grew up around art, so why is each step making my heart thud louder in my chest with anticipation?
Turning the corner, a crowd mills around a large piece, the murmur of quiet discussions louder than anywhere else. I know before we reach the viewing area, it’s going to be her. As we approach, two tall men step to the next painting, leaving a small clearing in the lingering crowd…perfect for my line of vision. Frozen in mid step, my breathing becomes more labored as my eyes take in the most beautiful sight they’ve ever seen.
Sitting on a sparse bed with nothing but a white sheet that looks as if it was gently dropped from covering her radiant skin, her head slightly bowed, captivating blue eyes look up at the artist from underneath long thick eyelashes. She looks like an angel. I really can’t decide if the pose is innocent or alluring, but the sexual tension that radiates from the canvas is palpable. It’s the sexiest god damn thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Sweet, yet incredibly seductive. Sensual. Beautiful. Every curve of her body soft and inviting, yet hard and incredibly erotic at the same time. The pink swells of her perky ni**les jut from her lush pale skin, one hand rests casually on her slightly parted thighs, giving the illusion of seeing what lies between her perfectly posed legs, although nothing really shows.
My mouth unable to form words, I don’t answer as Lily looks up at me. Forcing my labored breath slower, I swallow hard, reaching for control of my thoughts. A nervous smile on her face, her voice so low I can barely hear it over the sound of my heart thumping against my chest wall, “What do you think?”
Struggling to direct my gaze to the woman that speaks and not the painting I can’t seem to take my eyes off, I respond, “I’m thinking I’m going to stand in front of it to block it, facing it.”
Lily smiles and elbows me in the ribs. “You’re impossible.”
“What? I’m a fan of the arts. I need to study the lines. And the curves. Definitely the curves,” I respond.
A man’s voice from behind me changes the tension I’m feeling from sexual to angry, taking me from the peaceful place the beautiful vision had brought me to fists balling up at my sides in just three words. I’d f**k her.
Unfortunately, I’m not the only one who hears it. Lily looks horrified, and the two classless ass**les are lucky I make the snap decision to move Lily away from their comment and not knock them both on their asses. As I usher Lily to the next painting, I catch Reed quietly grumbling something to the men through gritted teeth before they both scurry away swiftly with pale faces.
At the next painting I excuse myself for a few minutes. I meet back up with Reed and Lily just as they complete their viewing of the exhibit.
“I have to do the meet and greet thing. I know it will be torture, but would you mind hanging with Lily for a while?” Reed asks jokingly when I return. He turns. “And you…don’t let it go to your head, I made you that beautiful. You’re really an ugly wench.”
Leaning down to kiss her gently on the forehead, he squeezes both shoulders. I hear him speak quietly to her, “Your painting is gorgeous, just like you. Relax and enjoy.”
She rolls her eyes playfully.
Extending his hand to me with a wink that Lily doesn’t catch, “Take good care of my girl.”
I nod and smile. “Of course.”
We wander around for another hour, talking nonstop. Eventually the gallery moves from the early phase of serious viewers to the beginnings of an after party, Lily looks around uncomfortably.
“You want to get out of here?” I ask.
“Would you mind? It sort of freaks me out to be in the same room with that painting.” She motions in the direction of the corner her portrait hangs in. It’s still the busiest area of the room.
As we make our way to the door, I watch as the gallery owner places a cover over Lily’s painting, marking it as privately sold. Luckily, Lily doesn’t notice.
Chapter 6
Lily
The streets of New York are oddly quiet for midnight on a Friday. Together, Jax and I walk unhurriedly with conversation flowing easily.
“So why do you know so much about art? Who are you really Jackson Knight?” I tease, although I am really curious why every comment he made at the viewing tonight was so spot on. Relating parts of an artist’s work back to anyone but the well known masters such as Van Gogh, Chopin, Dali, Munich, usually takes a trained eye. But Jax was able to pull out understated qualities and relate them back to the lesser known artists.
“No one important.” I expect Jax’s typical witty and cocky response, but instead he smiles halfheartedly and shrugs his shoulders. “My mother just thought I should be well cultured. Art history was my minor in college.”
“Well cultured, huh? Are you a prep school brat?” Playfully, I bump my shoulder into his as we wait for the light to change.
Jax volleys the focus back to me. “Tell me about you. Did you ever consider being an artist as a profession or has it always been your dream to own a chain of gyms filled with testosterone flaring men?”
“Nope. When I was little I dreamed about being a ballerina,” I respond proudly.
“A ballerina, huh?”
“Yep.”
“So what happened?”
“You witnessed how graceful I am first hand the other day when I fell out of my chair. Need I explain more?”
“That wasn’t just a one time thing, huh?” Jax chuckles as he speaks.
“Unfortunately not.” I smile.
“How old were you when you figured out it wasn’t going to happen for you as a ballerina?” Jax asks with a smirk.
“Six.”
“And how, exactly, did you figure out that you weren’t suited for the role of ballerina?”
“I fell off the stage while trying to pirouette at my first ballet recital.”