rope work?”
If not for the slightly high pitch to her voice, Drew
wouldn’t have known Eva was strung taut as a bowstring. She must have also
gotten her ability to keep a straight face from her father, he decided.
Certainly her mother was no good at hiding what she was thinking. The more he
tried to picture the easygoing, straightforward Bob Godfrey with the woman he’d
struggled to charm at dinner so recently, the more Drew marveled that they had
ever been a couple. Visually, they were a perfect match. But emotionally, they
must have driven each other to sheer insanity.
“Yeah, I’ve been trying not to bore him by getting my shibari geek on, though. Like I promised.”
He stopped their little group of three in front of the
centerpiece of the exhibit, a photo from the same series as the one Eva was so
worried about. For a moment they all simply looked, drinking in the piece,
absorbing the clean lines and subtle curves, the intricacy of the rope work in
the dragonfly weave contrasting with the porcelain-smooth skin of the model’s
back. This one was taken straight from the back, and was nearly symmetrical
with not a hair out of place. The only variance was at the hands; one of the
model’s pinkies was extended slightly, as though she were just about to move
her hand or resist the restraint.
Drew had to breathe out slowly and force himself to think
about baseball scores until the heat left his groin and he was steady on his
feet again. This picture always hit him that way, because he knew she had been
reaching for him with that delicate gesture. Not wanting him to leave her side,
even for the few minutes it took to take the series of photos. She had given a
frustrated little whimper right at that second, and he could hear it again
every time he looked at the photo. But it wasn’t only the sexuality, it was the
artistry in it too, the sheer beauty of the thing that caught him every time.
The way it captured the moment and spoke of all that had come before it, all
that might follow. The tension inherent in every line.
It was heart-stopping.
“Mr. Godfrey!” Sheila’s chipper greeting broke the trio’s
reverie, as she rushed to give Eva’s father an impetuous hug. She was sparkling
and giddy from champagne and success. “You made it! I’m so glad. Have you seen
it yet?”
This, despite Eva’s frantic attempts to catch Sheila’s eye
and her not-too-subtle gestures suggesting throat-cutting.
“Seen what, honey? Have your parents seen these photos yet,
young lady?”
“Oh, Mr. Godfrey. These are nothing compared to the last
book we worked on. Besides, I think they’re pretty hardened to it by now. God,
Evie,” she asked in an almost conspiratorial tone, “have you been hearing this
buzz? I’m getting the word ‘visceral’ a lot. I think it’s going to be so good.
The guy from the Post is already waxing lyrical.” She was practically jumping
up and down with glee.
“It does seem to be going well,” Eva allowed. “Don’t you
have people to schmooze?”
“I do! So many. Most of them want to know who you are, so
get back to mingling, okay?”
She darted off again with a perky wave, leaving Eva with a
smile frozen across her face and Mr. Godfrey looking puzzled. Drew pondered
whether to stay or give her some privacy with her dad, but Eva’s fingers
clenched his arm with all the strength of a vise clamp.
“So?” her father asked after a pause that included lots of
significant glances between all concerned.
Eva blew out a breath then straightened herself, squaring
her shoulders. “Okay. I guess at this point there’s nothing else for it. Come
this way.”
They bypassed the rest of the photos, weaving around the
various clumps of assembled revelers to arrive behind a small crowd gathered in
front of the last picture along the long wall. There were faces they knew,
faces they didn’t, but all the faces turned to Eva in recognition as she worked
her way to the front of the group with Drew
If not for the slightly high pitch to her voice, Drew
wouldn’t have known Eva was strung taut as a bowstring. She must have also
gotten her ability to keep a straight face from her father, he decided.
Certainly her mother was no good at hiding what she was thinking. The more he
tried to picture the easygoing, straightforward Bob Godfrey with the woman he’d
struggled to charm at dinner so recently, the more Drew marveled that they had
ever been a couple. Visually, they were a perfect match. But emotionally, they
must have driven each other to sheer insanity.
“Yeah, I’ve been trying not to bore him by getting my shibari geek on, though. Like I promised.”
He stopped their little group of three in front of the
centerpiece of the exhibit, a photo from the same series as the one Eva was so
worried about. For a moment they all simply looked, drinking in the piece,
absorbing the clean lines and subtle curves, the intricacy of the rope work in
the dragonfly weave contrasting with the porcelain-smooth skin of the model’s
back. This one was taken straight from the back, and was nearly symmetrical
with not a hair out of place. The only variance was at the hands; one of the
model’s pinkies was extended slightly, as though she were just about to move
her hand or resist the restraint.
Drew had to breathe out slowly and force himself to think
about baseball scores until the heat left his groin and he was steady on his
feet again. This picture always hit him that way, because he knew she had been
reaching for him with that delicate gesture. Not wanting him to leave her side,
even for the few minutes it took to take the series of photos. She had given a
frustrated little whimper right at that second, and he could hear it again
every time he looked at the photo. But it wasn’t only the sexuality, it was the
artistry in it too, the sheer beauty of the thing that caught him every time.
The way it captured the moment and spoke of all that had come before it, all
that might follow. The tension inherent in every line.
It was heart-stopping.
“Mr. Godfrey!” Sheila’s chipper greeting broke the trio’s
reverie, as she rushed to give Eva’s father an impetuous hug. She was sparkling
and giddy from champagne and success. “You made it! I’m so glad. Have you seen
it yet?”
This, despite Eva’s frantic attempts to catch Sheila’s eye
and her not-too-subtle gestures suggesting throat-cutting.
“Seen what, honey? Have your parents seen these photos yet,
young lady?”
“Oh, Mr. Godfrey. These are nothing compared to the last
book we worked on. Besides, I think they’re pretty hardened to it by now. God,
Evie,” she asked in an almost conspiratorial tone, “have you been hearing this
buzz? I’m getting the word ‘visceral’ a lot. I think it’s going to be so good.
The guy from the Post is already waxing lyrical.” She was practically jumping
up and down with glee.
“It does seem to be going well,” Eva allowed. “Don’t you
have people to schmooze?”
“I do! So many. Most of them want to know who you are, so
get back to mingling, okay?”
She darted off again with a perky wave, leaving Eva with a
smile frozen across her face and Mr. Godfrey looking puzzled. Drew pondered
whether to stay or give her some privacy with her dad, but Eva’s fingers
clenched his arm with all the strength of a vise clamp.
“So?” her father asked after a pause that included lots of
significant glances between all concerned.
Eva blew out a breath then straightened herself, squaring
her shoulders. “Okay. I guess at this point there’s nothing else for it. Come
this way.”
They bypassed the rest of the photos, weaving around the
various clumps of assembled revelers to arrive behind a small crowd gathered in
front of the last picture along the long wall. There were faces they knew,
faces they didn’t, but all the faces turned to Eva in recognition as she worked
her way to the front of the group with Drew
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