Ben glanced at the clock on the studio wall, surprised at the late hour. With the studio lights blazing, he hadn’t noticed darkness falling outside the windows. Darby would be arriving soon enough, and he was covered in paint. He gathered his brushes and started cleaning, still thinking about the paintings he’d been working on for the last few days. Several small canvases sat on one of the worktables, waiting for glue to dry before he added finishing touches. The few paintings he’d completed were propped on easels to show Darby.
After so many years of being alone, it felt amazing to have someone to share his artistic passions. He hoped they would share more than platonic friendship, some day. When she was ready. For now, he enjoyed spending time with her and valued her opinion. A soft knock at the studio door caught his attention. Hands dripping with soapy water, he called from where he stood. “Come in, it’s unlocked.”
The door swung partway open, and Darby poked her head inside, dark curls twisting in the breeze, cheeks pink from the cold. Her eyes found him and she gave him a wide, bright smile that made his stomach twist into knots of longing. “I’m a little early. I hope you don’t mind.”
He returned her smile. “Not at all. But you’ll have to wait while I get cleaned up and change my shirt.” He faced the sink, scrubbing faster while Darby closed the door and shrugged off her coat. When a champagne cork popped, he quirked an eyebrow at her. She’d brought two fluted glasses, which she concentrated on filling. “What are we celebrating?”
She stayed focused on not spilling the bubbly. “I told you on the phone, I have news.” He grabbed a towel off the rack and dried his hands before she handed a glass to him. She clinked her glass against his, but couldn’t hold back the news any longer. “I know I’m not officially your agent or anything, but my friend Stephen offered you an exclusive show for the month of April in his New York gallery, and wants permission to forward a few of the images ahead of time to choice buyers. I threw out a couple big numbers for a price range and he didn’t even flinch. He also says the Whitney is planning a juried exhibition for this summer, on the theme of anger and depression, and we should submit right away.”
“We?” Out of the whole spiel, it was the word that struck him the hardest. Ben knew he probably looked stunned, but the way she said it sounded as if they were a couple, and hit him square in the gut. “Is there a we?” The laugh that came out of Darby sounded more like a giggle. Wait, did she actually giggle?
Her smile widened. “Can we focus on the business parts first?”
He took the glass from her hand and placed both flutes carefully on one of the worktables. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, feeling her hipbones press into his. “Actually, I’m more interested in this ‘we’ of which you so casually speak.”
Her cheeks reddened to a brilliant shade of rose. “Ben, I realize I’ve been difficult. And like I said before, my past history with artists and dating is not very good. Epically bad, in fact.”
“For which I am eternally grateful,” he said, letting the scent of lavender envelop him in its soothing hold. She felt so good in his arms that he almost groaned out loud.
Her eyebrows scrunched together. “What? Why grateful?”
“Because that past brought you back home to the Cape, and to me.” He hesitated, a momentary panic clutching his chest. “Unless you were about to say something different?”
She giggled again. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About those kisses the other night. And how much I want to kiss you again.”
“That can be arranged.” His eyes lowered to her mouth, her tongue darting out to lick those luscious lips. He took the hint and leaned closer, capturing her mouth with his, tasting the sweetness he remembered from Sunday, falling headlong into the oblivion of her kiss. He pressed harder, his tongue tangling with hers. The sweet, sensuous torture of her plump lips and generous mouth felt like heaven after the last few days spent worrying she’d say no and shut him out.
But now they were a “we” and everything felt better.
Her arms circled his neck, sending a tantalizing rush down his spine. His body was on fire with need, but he craved the heat. Needed it. Wanted more. He feathered kisses along her jawline, and she whimpered when his mouth caressed her ear, his tongue tickling a slow path along the lobe. His hand grazed her breast as it moved up her side to twist in the hair at the back of her neck. A low growl caught in his throat as he pulled her closer, claiming her mouth once again and drowning in the taste and feel of her because she was like no one else he’d ever kissed. Her soft lips welcomed him to take more, to plunge deeper, to lose himself completely. She arched into him, holding nothing back.
He gasped when her hand found his crotch, teasing the growing bulge in his jeans. He pulled back from the kiss to look in her eyes. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m twenty-eight, Ben, not a teenager. I’ve decided what I want. I want you.” She nipped at his bottom lip to emphasize her point, her words kicking his desire into overdrive before she even yanked his shirt over his head. Her hands traced the corded lines of his back muscles as her lips trailed kisses down his chest. He shuddered under her touch before regaining control of his hands and unbuttoning her fuchsia blouse, appreciating the rounded breasts spilling out of her lacy black bra, loving the way she shivered under his fingers.
Her body felt soft and liquid under his touch, laughing and trembling at the desire driving them both. They tumbled onto the couch in the corner of the studio, a flurry of kisses and hands and too many clothes, until the clothes were gone and the kisses got deeper. When she pulled a condom from the pocket of her discarded jeans, he laughed. “Isn’t that supposed to be my job?”
She shrugged. “I figure we’re in this together, right?” Desire made her voice thick, and he realized he’d never wanted a woman more than at this very moment. The laughter stopped, replaced with too much need. He sat very still while she rolled on the condom, then pulled her onto his lap. She arched to meet him, clutching at his back, holding on for her life, wrapping herself around him, scraping her fingernails across his back as they rocked to oblivion together. He buried himself in her softness, letting her pound against him, both of them hurtling over the edge of sanity. Her head fell back when she shuddered over the edge, and his world shattered into pieces, crushing her soft breasts onto his chest as he held her safe in his arms.
She touched her forehead to his, panting hard. “That was incredible.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips. “You are incredible.”
“No, we are incredible together,” she said, and started to pull away. He held on, pulling her back to his chest, capturing her mouth for another kiss, trying to infuse it with all the emotion she stirred in him. She sighed against his lips, and he savored the sweetness for just a moment longer, until he felt her shiver and realized the studio wasn’t quite warm enough for their current state of undress.
Ben pulled on his jeans and walked to the closet for a shirt not covered in paint. Darby buttoned her blouse, and an embarrassed smile tugged his lips. “I’m afraid your blouse got a little more colorful today, sorry. I know how much you dislike blue stains.” He grabbed a second clean shirt from the closet and handed it to her.
She looked at the colorful smears covering her blouse. “I see you’re working with a wider palette than you’ve been using. And I don’t hate blue, just blue food.” She shucked the paint-stained blouse, his plain white t-shirt falling to her thighs, her black bra visible through the thin fabric.
He resisted the urge to pull the shirt straight off. Instead, he gathered her into his arms, loving the feel of her soft curves along his body. “Someone reminded me that life can be colorful, even if she doesn’t like blue food.”
She snuggled closer, hugging his waist. “I’m so glad you walked into my gallery that night.”
He kissed the top of her head, breathing in her lavender scent, feeling like the luckiest guy on Cape Cod. “I’m so glad you didn’t stick with your threat to say no to anyone asking for favors.”
She pulled away from his chest, her eyes wide, suddenly serious. “Hosting your show is not a favor, Ben. If I didn’t believe in your art, I’d say no.”
“I’m glad you said yes, to more than just the show.”
Her expression softened, and she snuggled into his embrace. “Me too.”
Resting his chin on top of her head, his eyes caught on a small painting propped on an easel in a dark corner. The one he’d painted for Darby the week before. A much smaller version of the tree paintings she liked, but with a whimsical twist that seemed apropos to the moment. “Darby, I have a little something for you.”
She giggled. “I wouldn’t exactly call it little.”
He pulled away from her embrace, shaking his head at her innuendo. “Not quite what I meant.” He crossed the room to grab the painting, laying it on the worktable next to her. “This one is for you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Thick gobs of sparkling titanium white blanketed the ground below the tree. Shades of bright blues painted the sky, a close imitation of the morning he’d created this painting. The morning he’d realized that he wanted more from Darby than just the exhibit.
The real branches and bark attached to the canvas and painted into the tree added layers of depth, some of the wires actually protruding off the flat surface. The branches bloomed with a riot of pastel colors, candy hearts attached to each extended branch as if growing from the tree itself. Some of the hearts read “Be Mine,” but more than half of them read “Say Yes.”
Darby’s mouth hung slightly open. “How many boxes of candy did you need to sift through to make this?”
He chuckled. “More than I care to admit. But it seemed important at the time. I hope you don’t mind too much if some of them are blue. I know how you feel about blue food.” He slipped his arms around her waist and molded her back along the front of his body, gazing at the painting.
“It was part of that silly rainbow you arranged on my desk when we first met.” She turned in his arms so they faced each other once again. “You said it was a sign.”
“I’m glad you listened.” He bent his head closer to capture those soft lips and whispered, “After all, who can argue with a candy heart?”
A word about the author...
Katie O’Sullivan lives with her family and big dogs next to the ocean on Cape Cod, drinking way too much coffee and inventing new excuses not to dust. A recovering English major, she earned her degree at Colgate University and now writes young adult and contemporary romance, as well as working as an editor. To learn more about Katie, visit her at:
http://katieosullivan.blogspot.com
http://www.katie-osullivan.com
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Other Katie O’Sullivan titles
available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
My Kind of Crazy
Crazy About You