Picture Me Naked (Stoddard Art School Series) (25 page)

Who knew new britches could make such a difference? Zee was a different woman in his arms tonight. Still sweet and passionate, but there was more. She didn’t hold back. Together they were explosive. It was bloody amazing.

“Are you still awake?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I need to tell you something.”

Those were never good words to hear even with a naked woman draped over him like a toga. But with the moist heat of her sex lying against his thigh, hell, she could tell him anything. “I’m awake.”

“It’s about my Nana.”

“You want to talk about your grandmother? Now?”

He felt her nod against his chest. “If I don’t tell you now, I’ll lose my nerve.” Zee raised herself to look at him. He brushed the hair from her cheek. “You were honest with me. I need to be honest with you.”

“About your Nana? Is she an ax murderer or something?”

“No.” Zee’s dimple flashed. “Nothing like that.”

Jagger watched her pause. “What is it?”

“I hope you don’t think this is crazy, but I-I talk to my Nana.”

“That’s not crazy, love.”

“She talks to me, too, almost every day. We’re very close.”

“That’s great.”

Zee fingered the dip at the base of his throat. “She likes you, too. A lot. She’s liked you from the beginning.”

“Is she moving in?” Jagger kissed the top of her head.

“No.” She looked him in the eye. “She died when I was ten.” Had he missed something? “Don’t frown.” She ran cool fingertips over his eyebrows. “I hate that frown.”

“Forget the frown. What are you saying? You’re grandmother is dead?”

“Mostly, yes…but no. Not exactly. You have to understand. Nana was my rock growing up. My mother was too busy trying to be my hula hoop partner. Nana raised me. Was always there. She was the voice of reason, my confidante. She knew all my secrets and loved me no matter what. She was the only one at first who believed I could be an artist. I-I was shattered when she died. I wanted to die too.

“I stopped eating, sleeping. I didn’t leave my room for a week. I’ve never felt so alone. Hopeless. Then she began visiting me. I was afraid to tell anyone. I thought I was losing my mind. But she kept coming back. All these years later, she’s still with me. Still my voice of reason, my personal cheerleader, my biggest supporter.”

Jagger sat up and looked at her. “She died when you were ten?” Zee nodded. He scanned the room. “Is she here now?”

“No.”

Jagger lay down and tried pulling her back into his arms. “Good. Can we sleep now?”

“Good? That’s all you have to say? Don’t you believe me?”

“Of course, I believe you.”

“And it doesn’t bother you that I have regular conversations with a dead woman?”

“She’s your nana.”

“Still, you don’t think that’s nuts?”

“No. She was obviously very special to you. She’s family. You love her. Real love never dies, Zee. Hell, I still talk to my father. ’Course,
he
doesn’t talk back. Maybe your nana could get him to shout out a ‘Hey, boy!’ every now and then. What do you think?”

“It doesn’t freak you out? Not even a little?”

Jagger reached out and played with a twist of Zee’s hair. “You’re a sensitive, passionate artist who talks to her dead grandmother. I’m a wild-assed nudist who is spreading his father’s remains all over the globe. We’re definitely made for each other.” He pulled her down for a kiss.

“You don’t think I’m crazy?”

Jagger nuzzled her neck. “Oh, darlin’ I
know
you’re crazy. I just happen to love crazy.”

“When I imagined this conversation, I pictured you running screaming from my bed.”

“Why?” He stroked her cheek. “Are
you
the ax murderer?”

She smiled and kissed him as she slipped a knee over his hip and raised herself to straddle him. She grasped hold of his wrists and pinned him to the bed. “They’ve never had enough evidence to convict me.”

“Good, then I don’t have to run.”

Zee soft lips rained tiny kisses on his mouth, his closed eyes, his chin. She brushed his chest with the tips of her breasts as she nibbled up his neck. “That
is
good.”

Jagger’s body pulsed beneath her. “Zee…”

“So, how sleepy are you?” She ran her tongue along the rim of his ear.

“You’re insatiable.”

Zee trailed wet kisses down his neck and across his chest while she slowly slid her body down his. She licked the pebbled tip of his nipple. Warm lips pulled it into her mouth.

Jagger groaned as she slipped lower and he felt her breath fan his erection. “You know, Lambert, if you’re trying to kill me, an ax would be faster.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Zee’s days became a technicolor blur. Life was hectic, and stressful, and Zee was happier than she ever remembered being. Each twenty-four hours revolved around three things: classes, work and Jagger—not necessarily in that order.

Daniel Bruce wanted more pieces to fill the show, and Zee worked day and night. Jagger was like having a live-in model. Zee sketched him sleeping and reading. She painted him sunbathing on the roof and playing his guitar.

Jagger hadn’t officially moved in, but he was with her as much as possible. He was amazing, and she was falling deeper and deeper in love with him as the days went on. She loved the way he would slip a cup of steaming tea beside her while she worked. Or the way he would stand behind her and run strong massaging hands over the sore, knotted muscles of her shoulders. Of course, those strong hands might also dip into the waistband of her pants to drive her to distraction, or caress her breasts while his lips played havoc with the tender flesh of her neck.

More often, it was her. Studying his body in such complete detail left her in a constant state of want. How many times did a posing session end up with the two of them naked and wrapped around one another?

But Zee couldn’t bring herself to say
I love you.
Somehow in her mind if she held on to those three little words, held them close to her heart like emotional bubble wrap, they would protect her heart when he left. If she said them aloud, he’d take everything away with him and she’d be left with nothing but an empty space where her heart used to be.

Late one afternoon, Zee sat at her table surrounded with all her sketchbooks from the last several years. She wanted a few female forms for the show and found two that inspired her.

One was of a wonderful model named Shelly lying in repose. The composition of her gentle curves against a background of flowing fabric was very appealing. The other was of a girl named Janet. Janet was thin and angular, sharp shoulders and elbows. But Janet was pregnant when Zee sketched her, and the ripe swell of breast and belly looked beautiful in contrast.

Jagger came up behind Zee and kissed her on top of her head. His hands kneaded her shoulders.

She arched like a cat. “Oh, that feels like heaven.”

He kissed her neck. “You smell like heaven.”

Zee laughed. “I smell like turpentine.”

“Not to me.” He nipped her earlobe. Jagger pulled a chair up next to her and looked at the collection of drawings.

“What do you think?” asked Zee. “I’ve narrowed it down to these two.”

Jagger looked them over. “They’re both good. This one’s great.” He pointed to Janet’s swollen belly. “I’ve always had a thing for pregnant women.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. It’s so,
woman
. You sheilas can make life.” He studied the sketch. “Do you ever think about having kids?”

“Me?” Zee laughed. She thought he was joking, but the look he gave her told her otherwise. An unexpected squeeze to her heart made her whisper. “Do you?”

“Someday. Once I’m done with all this business, ’course.”

Zee always thought she’d work with children, but never thought of having any of her own. Given her role model, she doubted she’d make a good mother. Jagger would make an amazing father, though. She could picture him with a little curly haired boy, or a blonde little girl with big brown eyes. He’d swing them up on his shoulders and race them around their big back yard. He’d teach them to ride a bike and fish, and…
Whoa!
What was she thinking? Picket fences and swingsets? She couldn’t go down that road. It wasn’t reality. Jagger was leaving.
That
was the reality.

She turned to him and shrugged. “I never pictured myself with kids.”

“How
do
you picture yourself?”

Alone.
An empty ache made tears pinch the backs of her eyes. Zee shrugged again and hastily gathering up her sketchbooks. A drawing slipped from one. Jagger picked it up from the floor.

“Is this you?”

Zee snatched it from him. “It’s awful. A self-portrait assignment gone bad.”

Jagger snatched it back. “Let me see.”

“It’s horrible. Don’t.”

“Hold on. It’s not horrible.”

It was. Worse. She’d drawn it just after she got Isabella. The drawing showed her holding the kitten. Zee hated it. Her face looked too wide. She’d tied her hair back and the effect looked odd. Add to that a shapeless turtleneck. She only kept it because it was a great sketch of Bella. It embarrassed her having Jagger look at it.

“Please, give it back.”

Jagger didn’t. He studied it. “You look sad.”

“I’m smiling.”

“Not your eyes.” He placed a hand over the mouth. Zee looked at her own eyes staring back. He was right.

She took the page away from him again and stuffed it into one of the books. “I told you it was horrible.”

“It’s not. It’s just not you.” He ran a tender finger along her lower lip. “You’re much prettier.” His gaze caressed her face. “You should do another one.”

“Maybe I will.”
I’ll give it to you when you leave so you’ll have something to remember me by
. Would she join his wall of photographs, she wondered? His collection of faces he’d left behind? The ache in her heart was back. “Are you staying tonight?”

“You’re working. I should get out of your way.”

Zee pushed aside her maudlin thoughts and slipped her arms around his neck. She kissed him. “You’re never in my way.”

“Good to hear.” He pulled her closer.

“I should put in another few hours.”

“I was afraid of that.”

She teased the tip of his nose with her own. “I’m sorry. I promise, after the show I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he murmured against her mouth. His kiss chased away all the hurt. He was hers now. That’s all that mattered.

He gave her another scorching kiss at the door. “Go, get back to work.”

“I’ll see you in class in the morning. Are you busy at the estate afterward?”

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

“If I work extra tonight, I could take the afternoon off. We could come back here,” she whispered against his neck.

“I’ll try not to think about that while I’m posing.”

“Grandpa’s hairy legs.”

“Right.” He smiled and kissed her gently. “Good night.”

Zee watched him walk down the stairs until she couldn’t see him anymore, and then went inside.

Back at the table, she looked over the sketches of Janet and Shelly. Her finger traced the rounded swell of Janet’s tummy. She placed a hand on her own flat stomach and tried to imagine being with child. Jagger’s child.

She reached over and pulled her self-portrait from where she’d shoved it in haste. A familiar scent surrounded her.

“He’s right. That’s not you,” said Nana. “Could you have buried yourself behind any more stuff?”

“I pulled my hair back.”

“It looks painful. Thank goodness you threw that ugly sweater away.”

“Isabella looks cute.”

“Isabella always looks cute.”

“Maybe I
should
do another one.” Zee nodded.

“Maybe you should. You’re looking lovely these days. Being in love agrees with you.”

“I feel like I’m running happily for a cliff. The inevitable fall will most likely kill me.”

“You can’t think about things like that. Anything could happen. You don’t know. Just be happy.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic,” sighed Zee.

“And you’re a cynic,” puffed Nana.

“Just make sure you’re here to pick up the pieces.”

“I’m always here. Well,
almost
always…wink, wink.”

Zee looked over her portrait again. She chewed her lip awhile before dashing off to get the large mirror from the bathroom.

Hours later, the sun was rising. Zee slipped on her robe and swallowed the last mouthful of cold tea. Her back ached, but looking at the canvas before her, it was worth an aching back and a crick in her neck.

The Zee she painted was the new Zee, the happy, sexy Zee; the “He loves my butt” Zee.

She’d painted a full-length nude of herself from behind. Her dark curls clipped loosely to the top of her head, allowing a few stray curls to frame a face that looked back over one shoulder. Bending one knee had caused a sassy little tip to her bottom. Even critical Zee smiled. It was good. She’d surprise him with it the night of the show.

Now where could she hide it?

Chapter Thirty-Two

Jagger followed her home the next day, and Zee caught him searching the parking area.

“Ed’s making you paranoid. Don’t worry. I’ve made George armed and dangerous. I’m changing his name to Bond, George Bond, triple O-6, License to shrill.”

“Very funny.” He smirked. “I’m not paranoid. I’m cautious. I’m not convinced Zeigler’s given up so easily.”

“You said he was a coward. You were right. Let’s just be thankful he’s stopped harassing me.” Zee slipped her arms around his neck, wriggled her body against his, and feigned a thick southern accent. “You are my hero, Mr. Jones.” The corner of Jagger’s mouth twitched. Zee fanned herself with a hand. “My, my, when you look at me like that, I get a serious case of the vapors.” She brushed his lips with her own. “Can I interest you in a long, cool mint julep?” Pulling away from his kiss, she sashayed toward her building. “I may even let you kiss me on the veranda.”

He caught her, tugging her back against him. “Just where on this sassy little body is the veranda?” His hands got bold.

Zee gave a dramatic gasp and slapped at his hands. “Why sir,” she drawled in her best Scarlet O’Hara. “You are a cad! If Daddy catches you, he’ll tan your hide.”