Page 51 of Here Comes Trouble
Before she lost her nerve, she lifted her shaking hand and banged hard on his door, hoping he was in there.
After a couple of seconds, the door flew open to reveal Xander in all his splendour, regulation paintbrush in hand and a look of acute surprise on his face when he clocked that it was her on his doorstep.
‘Jess!’ His beautiful voice rumbled through her, waking up every nerve ending and sending a rush of pure longing south through her body. He was even more gorgeous, more virile, than she remembered. It had been less than a week since they’d last seen each other, but to Jess it felt like a lifetime since she’d been allowed to touch him.
She wanted him back. So badly it physically hurt.
She needed to be cool here though, collected and poised. No way was she going to go to pieces and make a fool of herself.
Opening her mouth to speak, she froze, totally at a loss for what to say now she was standing there in front of him again.
Say something, Jess. Anything.
‘I love you,’ she blurted, her brain too late to catch up with her mouth and circumnavigate the damage she’d just wreaked.
He just stared at her with those mesmerising eyes of his and didn’t say a word. There wasn’t even a flicker of emotion on his face.
Her heartbeat accelerated as she waited for something – anything – to give her a clue about how he felt about her laying herself on the line like that.
There was a sound of heavy footsteps behind her and, grateful for the distraction from her humiliation, she broke her awkward eye contact with Xander and turned around to see a thick-set, silver-haired man reach the top of the stairwell and raise a hand in greeting to them both.
‘Xander, glad I’ve caught you in. I’ve been speaking to the guys at the Brick Lane gallery and they have a couple more questions about how we want to set the exhibition up. I was in the area so I thought I’d drop in for a quick chat about it.’
Jess heard Xander clear his throat behind her. ‘Sure, Paul, yeah. Tell you what, come down to the kitchen with me while I make a drink for my friend and we’ll chat on the way.’
Jess’s skin prickled as she felt him move from behind her and she watched in stultified silence as he walked towards his agent.
He turned back to look at her, his face still devoid of any emotion.
‘Jess, why don’t you wait in my studio? I’ll be back in a minute and we can talk,’ he said levelly.
She gave him a nod and a tentative smile, then watched him disappear down the stairs.
Stumbling into his studio, she closed the door behind her and put her head in her hands. She stared at the floor in horror, utterly incredulous that she just told him that shelovedhim.
Well, at least no one could accuse her of beating around the bush.
What must he be thinking right now? And what was he going to say when he finally came back into the room?
Her heart thumped against her chest as she considered the possibilities. Rejection or acceptance. Whichever he chose, it was going to turn her world upside down. Again.
She paced the room for a minute trying to get her head together, managing to knock into one of the paintings propped against the wall and jumping back when it fell flat against the floor with a clatter.
Picking it up, she propped it back against the wall and knelt there for a moment, breathing slowly and deeply. Staring at the back of the painting it suddenly occurred to her that she was alone, in Xander’s studio, surrounded by his exhibition paintings. Well, she may as well get what she’d come here for while he was out of the room. Even if he gave her the brush-off she could still go back and give the article a hint about the theme he was using before heading off home to crumple into a sobbing heap.
She walked unsteadily over to where his largest paintings stood, their paint-stained tarpaulins hiding them from sight. Her hand shook as she pulled up the bottom of one of the tarps to reveal the painting underneath.
Her heart rattled in her chest as she stood there, staring at it, hardly able to believe what she was seeing. It was a picture of a woman, standing naked in front of an aquamarine lake, as if about to dive in, colourful whorls of paint, like fingerprints, covering her body from top to toe. Even though her back was to the viewer, Jess knew it was her.Hernaked body.
She could barely breathe, the dismay at what she was seeing making her chest contract painfully.
Turning round, and with a sense of impending dread, she lifted up the tarp on the painting propped against the easel in the middle of the room. It was another one of her, asleep in bed, but fully clothed in her linen suit, looking prim and stiff. A ghost-like image of her naked body rose above it, like her wild spirit was escaping and looking down on her mortal shell. This time her face was in shadow, but again, she knew it was her. She recognised the arrangement of moles on her arm that he’d been so complimentary about.
It was a beautiful painting, but it filled her with horror.
He’d taken their most intimate, most intensely personal moments and was intending to use them for commercial gain.
The thought of these pictures being displayed in public view, made her want to vomit.
