January (Calendar Girl #1) Anthology Anthology (101 page)

***

After breakfast, Alec led me back down to the lower level workspace. “So you own both floors then?” I asked while following him through the workspace. Surprisingly enough, there were only a couple people milling about and it was eight in the morning. Maybe they didn’t work a standard eight to five job.  

“Yes, this is my work space; the other, as you know, is my home. I like to be close to my home. Sometimes I work well into the night and morning. When I want to end my day, I don’t want to have to drive across town to do it. This way I’m just a short elevator ride up.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. Where is everyone?” I slumped into the chair he pushed out in front of me. Before us, about ten feet away, was a brightly lit area and two blank canvases hanging on the wall. One was about six feet wide by four feet tall. The other was a good six feet tall and four feet wide. So basically the same size only one was horizontal the other vertical.

“Creative day. I don’t need much assistance today. Only you, my camera and paint, all of which I have in front of me.”

“Cool,” I looked around. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“We’ll start with test shots. I’ll need you to stand in front of the horizontal painting.” He helped me to stand then scooped me up and walked me over to another chair that had been placed in front of the wall. On the floor under my twisted ankle was a pillow. He stood me next to the chair so I was using the back of it to bear weight on that side of my body. “The pillow is in case you need to place your foot down. I don’t want you placing it on hard concrete and further injuring it. This should help,
oui
?”

I smiled wide. “Yes, thank you, Alec. Just do whatever you need to do. I’m fine, perfectly comfortable,” I assured him.

He moved around the space and over to a tripod then adjusted the lights. “Okay, now remove your t-shirt. Leave the undergarment on, for now, I only need to see the angles and shapes of your shoulders, arms, neck, sides, of your upper body.”

Taking a deep breath I bit down on my lip then lifted my shirt and flung it aside. “Okay, Frenchie, but it’s gonna cost you,” I warned.

“I’m well aware of the expense,” he said behind his camera. The second I removed my shirt the camera started clicking.

I stood stock still in my black lace bra. It covered me completely, no more skin showing than a bikini top would, but still, I was nervous. Over the years I’d done a bit of acting and hoped to do more but never really spent any time modeling. Never thought I had the body for it.

“
Impressionnant
,” Alec mumbled in French. That one sounded like a compliment, so I kept quiet and let him do his thing. “You’re doing fine,” he said.

A breath of air left me in a huff. “How is that possible? I’m not
doing
anything but standing here.”

“With your beauty, it’s enough. Besides, these are test shots for positioning, lighting, and such.” After a few more clicks he came over to me. “Are you tired of standing?”

“A little,” I said, because I was. It was harder than it looked to balance on one foot even if I had a chair to use.

We took a break, and he brought me some water and a blanket. I used the blanket to shield my nakedness. Then he had me back up, only this time, he had me throw my head over and ruffle my hair then bring it back up. I did this a couple times until he felt it was just so. I thought it was just messy and ratty, but he seemed to want the ratty, wild hair.

“Your colors are perfection,
ma jolie
.” He walked over to a table, and brought over a paint brush and a small can of paint. The paint was cherry red. “This is going to feel strange but I’m going to apply this paint to your lips. It is not toxic.”

“Sure, whatever you gotta do. It’s your dime.”

He shook his head and chuckled. I smiled but then made a poufy-lipped face while he delicately painted my lips. It glistened brightly and seemed to have a plastic-like quality to it. When he was done, he fluffed my hair a few more times and walked back to his camera.”

“Now, Mia, think of something sad. Something that hurts your heart…very bad. Maybe even think of something you are missing,
oui
?”

I didn’t want to mess up my lips so I just looked off into the distance and thought of Wes. What was he doing right now? Who was he with? Did he miss me? What if he was standing half naked in front of someone else? Those thoughts were too tortured, and I tried to change gears. Only God knows why, but I thought of my dad. I hadn’t seen him in a month. He was still in a coma without his daughter sitting by his side. That thought hit me straight in the heart.

“Mia!” Alec said sharply and I turned my head so fast I blinked. A lone tear slipped down my cheek. The camera clicked. “Got it,” he said softly. I whisked away the remaining tears that were on the cusp of falling.

“We done?” My voice cracked when he handed me a wet cloth.

“For this part of the project, yes, we are done. You may wash off the paint and have a rest. I’ll get your shirt.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling a little flustered and a lot emotional. 

Once we finished and I was dressed, we sat side by side and looked out one of the rickety windows down to the Seattle street below. A light rain was pelting against the asphalt, and people rushed around to avoid getting soaked.

“What is this picture we’re working on now?”

“You mean, what is the name of the piece?”

I nodded but stayed silent looking out over the wet street.

“No Love For Me.”

Of course. It should be my fucking theme song. “I’m ready to get back to work.”

Alec led me over to the canvas once more. No words were spoken when I removed my shirt, fluffed my hair and got into position.

Finally, I broke the silence.

“What’s next?” I asked with a renewed focus.

“We find you love of course.”

Chapter 3

Day three of being with Alec brought me back into the loft. Last night, we returned from a long day of shooting stills in what felt like a million subtly different poses. We’d even skipped lunch; apparently, when the muse strikes, one takes advantage. Objectively, when a woman removes the top half of her clothes and you’re a hetero male, it’s not too far a leap to think the muse is going to go haywire. All men are pigs in one way or another. This one just happened to be masquerading as a hot artist guy Frenchman.

Gotta admit though, it was totally working for me. I was dying to get my hands on him. Anywhere. His hair, especially his hair. Long waves of russet and gold that fell perfectly to his shoulders. Tall, muscled frame with a narrow waist had me salivating for the second day in a row. Unfortunately for me, Alec was a workaholic to the extreme. After we finished in the loft and came back to his loft, we ate pizza for dinner, and he was off to the loft to work on the image he’d done that day. Didn’t even come home before I went to bed alone…again. It irked me that he hadn’t so much as tried anything other than that single kiss. I was primed and ready to take the next step. I needed to rip off the Band-Aid so to speak. To stop thinking about Wes and the surfboard keychain that held the key to his front door and his heart. 

Today, Alec wasn’t waiting for me in the kitchen. Once I’d butt-scooched down the stairs, I’d expected to find him up and making me breakfast like yesterday. Not so. What I did find was a note in his slanted male penmanship sitting by the coffee pot. It said:

Ma jolie
,

Meet me at downstairs when you’re ready. There is much to do.

~A

I ate a banana and had a cup of coffee before making my way on the crutches to the elevator and down to the loft. Today was far busier than the previous day. Again, there were several men in black scurrying around doing this or that, taking pictures, probably those boring test stills. I was glad that Alec personally did the test shots with me. At least that way I had someone I could talk to. The men in black had an issue with the models speaking. Every few minutes I’d hear a shush or “still” or “quiet” from one side of the room or another. Even though it was all very strange, it was quite interesting to see the inner workings of a world-renowned artist as he perfected his art and managed the minions doing the grunt work.

“Finally, you’re here,” one of his men in black approached on a huff. He gripped my arm and tried to pull me along faster than my crutches would allow.

As I struggled to keep up, my crutch’s rubber end hit a wire trailing across the concrete floor. It hit it at a weird angle that caused me to tilt forward and nearly put all my weight onto my sprained ankle. I swayed precariously, but caught myself midair by balancing on the crutches. That was it! I’d had it. Thoroughly irritated, I yanked my arm out of his grasp. “Watch it, dude. You’re about to get a crutch up your ass if you don’t quit pulling on my arm. I’m not your dog on a leash.” I pointed the crutch at his face and swung it around. “Back off!”

“Q
ue se passe-t-il
?” came an agitated voice behind us. Alec stood, hands on hips, a twisted, angry look marring his features. He looked lethal, like a lion ready to pounce on its prey. “What is the meaning of this?” he finally spoke in English.

“Mr. Dubois, your model was not being speedy and you were expecting her an hour ago,” the minion replied. An hour ago? Screw that! If he wanted me to get up early, he should have set an alarm, maybe even have found interesting ways to wake me. Since he didn’t, I was not taking the blame.

“
Imbécile
,” he murmured loud enough for the two of us to hear but not loud enough for the growing audience building around us. “Do you have poor sight?”

The man scrunched his nose and his head whipped back. “Sight? As in can I see?”

“Are you deaf too?”

This time the man took affront. “Look, Mr. Dubois, you said the models were to follow the rules and that included being on time. She was late, really late. A whole hour. I was just trying to move her along…”

“Enough. You,” he pointed to the waif of a man, “are an idiot. Do you not see she is injured and cannot run with crutches?”

“I was just trying…”

“
Assez!.
No. Shut your mouth before you dig a hole so deep you’ll never find your way to the surface,” Alec grated. He looked around the room and held his arm out, scanning the space. “Now, to everyone listening, and I know you are...” A few people tried to look away as if that was going to hide the fact that everyone had been paying close attention. “This woman is Mia,” he pointed to me. “She is the entire muse for ‘Love on Canvas’. As far as you are concerned, she is as precious and priceless as any of my paintings. Treat her as such. Now, back to work.” He clapped his hands together twice before coming to my aide.

“Are you okay,
ma jolie
?”

“Fine, he just annoyed me. Tugged on me too hard and I almost fell. It’s an honest mistake.”

“One he will not make again,” he bit out, then leaned forward and scooped me into a princess carry again. “How was your sleep?”

This was my chance so I took it. “Would have been better with a nice warm body lying next to me,” I finished boldly. He stopped and stood still, his gaze on mine, tawny eyes turning a shade darker, pupils dilating.

“Is that so?”

“I never lie,” which wasn’t exactly true. I lied all the time when it suited me or I was stuck in a bind. Even though this suited me, this was not one of those times.  

Alec grinned. “I find that hard to believe,
ma jolie
.” He brought me over to the same place we were working yesterday and sat me in the chair I’d used.

Before he could let me go, I whispered, “Believe it Frenchie,” into his ear then kissed his cheek sweetly. Nothing more than a reminder of our heated kiss a couple days ago.

“It seems we’ll have to do something different with our sleeping accommodations posthaste. Don’t want you to be uncared for.”

“That would be a tragedy.” I smiled wide.

His response was a wink before he turned around and got out the paint again and a small brush.

“Painted lips again?”

He came toward me and lifted his chin in a silent request that I look behind me. I turned sideways in my chair, staying mindful of my sore foot. That’s when I saw it. Not it…me. Two of me. One was a black and white painted image of me. The other a combination photograph on one half of the canvas, the other half blank. Bright red lips were the only point of color on the second picture. The first painted image was so lifelike, even more so than the actual photographic image on the other canvas. I stood and hopped over to the painting. The brush strokes were miniscule and almost a perfect duplicate of the photographic image. You could even see the tear streaming down my face. The sadness in my eyes, the stance, slumped shoulders showed a tortured woman. Sad yet still…beautiful. A moment caught in time.

“It’s…I can’t believe…how?” I whispered and lifted a hand to touch the painting. Before I could, Alec gripped my wrist and pulled it back gently.

“No touching. It’s still wet. I worked on it through the night.”

My eyes went wide and I gasped. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize. That’s dumb. I mean, I should have known, it makes sense. Sorry,” I frowned.

Alec’s hand reached out and he caressed a lock of my hair, rubbing it together with his fingers before trailing one fingertip down from my temple, cheekbone and along the side of my chin. Goosebumps broke out against my arms and I shivered.

“Cold?” he asked with a hint of a smile. He knew what he was doing to me. How his touch ignited something inside.

“No,” I licked my lips and stared brazenly at his, wishing he would lean forward and put his lips on me. Anywhere. Everywhere.

“Well then, let’s get started.” He combed his fingers through my hair, pushing it over my shoulder. Then repeated the movement on the other side. Not what I was expecting, but it felt good, so I went with it. “Sit, I’m going to paint your lips.”