innuendos attached. His past private life was none of my business, but I wanted a count to drive myself crazy.
"None as of late. I haven't found anyone to keep my interest in years until a few days ago. A sweet blonde with Renaissance portrait features appeared in my studio and blew away the cobwebs growing between my ears."
Ben selected two oversized art books off a shelf. He leafed through the first and left a page open, then did the same to the second. He spun both toward me. Two of the world's most famous paintings stared back at me: Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring and Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa .
"Neither of these women had any idea they would become infamous. They are looking at the artists, posing for a portrait, maybe hungry or tired. I could discuss the uses of light and shadow, style and colors, but these women are the reason the paintings resonate and made the artists famous. It's their eyes. Windows to the soul, keepers of secrets and knowledge, they entrance us, behold us. I'm sure they bewitched the artists, the desire, the purity, the honesty of the glance is breathtaking."
As Ben spoke, I viewed the portraits as if for the first time. Barely a smile on one and shyness wafted off the other, but the compelling straight-on stare did it. They drew me in and held me.
"This is how you made me feel when you posed. Your glance lured me in and froze me there. I had to get your image on the canvas, nothing else mattered. You haunt me, Alexia. You're the beauty I've been waiting for, everyone else has been filler."
He should write greeting cards because he melted my heart with those words. Not a declaration of love, but damn close.
"So I'll work for you and pose with my clothes on?"
He laughed as he kissed my cheek.
"Always pose nude. I'll leave the work attire to your discretion. I vote the less, the better."
He slipped his arms around my waist and my professionalism wavered, but I stemmed the tide and fought back. I vaguely remembered wanting to keep the upper hand in this relationship.
"I guess I'll dive in to get a feel for the job." I untangled myself and had to trek around him to sit at the desk. He caressed my back as I passed.
"As for other activities, you are welcome to spend the night here as often as you want. Or I can come to your apartment if you would prefer." He leaned down for a kiss.
"We should wait to see if I'm capable of the job."
"You were born capable. It's a lot of work, but I'm positive you'll do a much better job than I ever did. Alexia, I told you the job wouldn't come between us. I won't allow it. I want you." He kissed me and made my toes curl. "We'll go slow. I'll let you work. I won't attack you in here. Yet."
He left, closing the door behind him.
My resistance shook but held. I started with the unopened bills, invitations, solicitations, and commendations.
Except for the bills, each had a similar message: "Will you speak, attend, contribute, apply, paint, or write to my aspiring artist son, daughter, friend, dog?"
The requests were overwhelming. The money being asked for and offered flew off the chart. According to the postmarks, these seventy-five pieces of mail came in last week.
Where did they get off making so many demands on him? He was an artist, not a prop or a cash station. I became the guardian at the gate and protector from the onslaught.
A waste can next to me overflowed as I stamped envelopes. A long time later, Ben cleared his throat and startled me.
He would make a great bogeyman.
"I'm glad you're here. Please sign these letters. I'll mail everything tomorrow. This is my question pile. Do you have time?" I asked.
"Do you know what time it is?" he asked.
"No, I'm sorry. It's late. I should go." I started to clean up.
"It's almost midnight. You don't have to leave unless you want to. Are you having fun yet?"
He sat down next to me.
"Some of these people have a lot of nerve, wanting you to help their careers. I should apologize since I'm guilty of
"None as of late. I haven't found anyone to keep my interest in years until a few days ago. A sweet blonde with Renaissance portrait features appeared in my studio and blew away the cobwebs growing between my ears."
Ben selected two oversized art books off a shelf. He leafed through the first and left a page open, then did the same to the second. He spun both toward me. Two of the world's most famous paintings stared back at me: Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring and Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa .
"Neither of these women had any idea they would become infamous. They are looking at the artists, posing for a portrait, maybe hungry or tired. I could discuss the uses of light and shadow, style and colors, but these women are the reason the paintings resonate and made the artists famous. It's their eyes. Windows to the soul, keepers of secrets and knowledge, they entrance us, behold us. I'm sure they bewitched the artists, the desire, the purity, the honesty of the glance is breathtaking."
As Ben spoke, I viewed the portraits as if for the first time. Barely a smile on one and shyness wafted off the other, but the compelling straight-on stare did it. They drew me in and held me.
"This is how you made me feel when you posed. Your glance lured me in and froze me there. I had to get your image on the canvas, nothing else mattered. You haunt me, Alexia. You're the beauty I've been waiting for, everyone else has been filler."
He should write greeting cards because he melted my heart with those words. Not a declaration of love, but damn close.
"So I'll work for you and pose with my clothes on?"
He laughed as he kissed my cheek.
"Always pose nude. I'll leave the work attire to your discretion. I vote the less, the better."
He slipped his arms around my waist and my professionalism wavered, but I stemmed the tide and fought back. I vaguely remembered wanting to keep the upper hand in this relationship.
"I guess I'll dive in to get a feel for the job." I untangled myself and had to trek around him to sit at the desk. He caressed my back as I passed.
"As for other activities, you are welcome to spend the night here as often as you want. Or I can come to your apartment if you would prefer." He leaned down for a kiss.
"We should wait to see if I'm capable of the job."
"You were born capable. It's a lot of work, but I'm positive you'll do a much better job than I ever did. Alexia, I told you the job wouldn't come between us. I won't allow it. I want you." He kissed me and made my toes curl. "We'll go slow. I'll let you work. I won't attack you in here. Yet."
He left, closing the door behind him.
My resistance shook but held. I started with the unopened bills, invitations, solicitations, and commendations.
Except for the bills, each had a similar message: "Will you speak, attend, contribute, apply, paint, or write to my aspiring artist son, daughter, friend, dog?"
The requests were overwhelming. The money being asked for and offered flew off the chart. According to the postmarks, these seventy-five pieces of mail came in last week.
Where did they get off making so many demands on him? He was an artist, not a prop or a cash station. I became the guardian at the gate and protector from the onslaught.
A waste can next to me overflowed as I stamped envelopes. A long time later, Ben cleared his throat and startled me.
He would make a great bogeyman.
"I'm glad you're here. Please sign these letters. I'll mail everything tomorrow. This is my question pile. Do you have time?" I asked.
"Do you know what time it is?" he asked.
"No, I'm sorry. It's late. I should go." I started to clean up.
"It's almost midnight. You don't have to leave unless you want to. Are you having fun yet?"
He sat down next to me.
"Some of these people have a lot of nerve, wanting you to help their careers. I should apologize since I'm guilty of
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