Johnnie jerked and covered her heart with her hand.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here.” She began to panic; the woman’s eyes were trained on the paintings.
“I’m a bit early,” she said softly.
Johnnie moved quickly and began covering the paintings.
“No, don’t.”
Johnnie stopped. The woman came closer. “Let me see.”
Johnnie removed the covers. The woman reached out as if to touch her own image, but her fingers hovered above the paint.
“This is what you’ve been painting,” she said.
Johnnie burned. “Yes.”
“And this is what you didn’t want to tell me.”
Johnnie closed her eyes. “Yes.”
The woman moved from image to image, thoroughly examining each one. She was silent and her green eyes were large and liquid. Johnnie noted her shuddering breath, the mark of heat along her cheekbones. She was moved. And the realization sent Johnnie’s heart rate into overdrive.
Finally, the woman spoke. “We need to leave now. We need to go somewhere with—people.”
“You’re not upset are you?”
The woman wouldn’t look at her. “Can you drive? I need to sit.”
Johnnie quickly covered the canvases and led the way out of the studio. She locked the door behind them and opened her truck door for the woman. They rode in silence, and Johnnie didn’t pry. It was obvious the woman was dealing with emotions, sorting her thoughts.
Johnnie wanted to apologize, to offer to give her the paintings, to promise to never paint another one of her image. But she knew it wasn’t the time. The woman was fragile now, vulnerable, and she’d never seen her like this. She didn’t want to add to her burden in any way.
“There’s a small café up ahead,” she said. “Pull in there.”
Johnnie found the café and pulled in to park. They sat in the cab for a moment before the woman finally opened the door. She looked a bit pale, and Johnnie walked with her inside and sat opposite her in a back booth.
She ordered coffee with cream, no sugar. Johnnie had another iced tea.
When the woman finally looked at her, she breathed deeply and tried to smile. Her confident pose was trying to return, but Johnnie could tell it wasn’t easy for her.
“The paintings are beautiful,” she said, though her voice wasn’t strong. “I’m not upset in any way. In fact, I’m moved. Moved beyond words.”
Johnnie wasn’t sure what to say. “Would you like to have them?”
She laughed and it reached her eyes. Johnnie was mesmerized.
“Absolutely not. What on earth would I do with them?”
Johnnie shrugged. “Give them to someone special. I’m sure they would love them.”
The woman lowered her eyes and sipped her coffee nervously. Johnnie reached for her hand but stopped herself.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“You’re fine.” She stared out the window. “I think it best if we talk here today.”
Johnnie searched her face. She could sense her emotion, her growing feelings. The paintings had touched her deeply. Just as they had Johnnie.
“I understand. I couldn’t do what you do and not—have feelings.”
“Actually, it’s quite easy. You just surprised me is all. I’ve never had a client paint me before.” She looked at her. “And I couldn’t do what you do—feeling everything.”
Johnnie laughed and then grew serious. “Yeah, well I don’t wish it on anyone.”
“And I don’t wish what I’m able to do on you. It would change who you are. Harden you. And that would be a tragedy.”
Johnnie sipped her tea. “So what now?”
“We do your favorite thing. We talk.”
Johnnie smiled. “I think you seeing those paintings exposed me enough for one day.”
The woman blushed, and Johnnie wanted to touch her skin and feel its heat. But she didn’t dare, for there was something between them now. Something fierce and alive and needful. If that door was opened, there would be no stopping them.
“Oh no, we’re just getting started.” The coy smile was back. Johnnie returned it.