Commissioned In White (Art of Love Series) (9 page)

“You know, I get asked that question all the time,” Drake said easily, stopping to look at Michael. “The short answer is no, which is why I do it. The longer one is more complex, but would require a therapist to sort out. Each one is my art as much as it is a picture of my wife.”

“I hear you,” Michael said, and then grinned. “You can explain it to my brother the psychologist one day—if he ever decides to be in our lives again.”

“Missing your newly married smart-aleck brother are you?” Drake asked. “I had lunch with him two days ago. Being the youngest ‘doctor’ on staff, he’s getting the usual flack over it. He said he was seriously grateful he’d bought all the new clothes.”

“Seriously?” Michael asked, frowning. “I haven’t seen Shane in a couple of weeks. Before Reesa, I was used to seeing him several times a week. Hell, I guess I do miss him. How pathetic is that? My brother is my best friend.”

Drake laughed. “Since I’m an only child, I have no idea. Speaking of siblings, your future stepsister and her twin just walked in the door.”

Michael laughed at Drake’s joke about Jessica being Brooke’s sister.

“Tomorrow is the big day. Brooke took Jessica to do the kind of girl things that men aren’t supposed to think about too much. That’s why I came to work with Carrie. If I had known you were going to be available for pregnant wife sitting, I’d have stayed home and finished the art piece I’m working on. It’s the last one before the opening.”

Drake laughed. “I didn’t know myself that I would be here. It was pure impulse on my part this morning. I’m getting excited about the opening next week and can’t stand to be away from the gallery for long. I’ve gotten way too involved to keep a professional distance.”

“Me too, actually,” Michael declared. “Carrie’s got people flying in from all over the US for the opening, and more are driving here. I’m just hoping it doesn’t snow on everyone. I knew things were moving along well, but she’s surpassed even what I thought she could do.”

“Bet you haven’t seen much of Carrie lately either,” Drake said, watching the three women chatting and smiling at each other. Jessica was gesturing and Brooke seemed to be correcting every other thing that was said. He almost wanted to laugh.

“I miss my wife even more than my brother,” Michael said sincerely. “But I promised her my support, and here I am.”

“You’re a good man for that, Larson,” Drake said, grinning. “I bet you’re not noble very often.”

“Hell no,” Michael agreed, liking the way Drake laughed at his emphatic statement.

He watched fascinated as Brooke broke off from the group to walk slowly toward them. First he felt Drake tense, then he saw the man retreat as far inside himself as he could go until his eyes were emerald stone chips. Brooke, on the other hand, didn’t seem overly fazed by Drake’s presence, or his withdrawal.

Michael snorted at the dueling dance of their gazes doing surveillance of each other’s body language. He didn’t need Shane to point out the obvious interest they had for each other. They looked ready for some sort of action—the question was what. Because he was interested in finding out, he wickedly smiled at both of them in warning before firing off the first verbal shot over their heads.

“Hey, sis,” Michael said casually. “How’d the bikini waxing go for Mom?”

Brooke spurted a greeting and laughed, not dignifying the horrible question with an acknowledgement.

To Michael’s consternation, Drake flushed again at his teasing question. He wanted to laugh harder at the man’s lack of ability to deal with his bohemian family, but didn’t want to risk emasculating him more in front of Brooke. It was just surprising that a man who painted nudes as well Barrymore did, could be so prudish in reality.

“Mom wondered if you could go by the house later and pick up the two glass vaginas she made for the opening,” Brooke said, directing the statement to Michael. “I’d do it myself, but I have to take Mom for her final fitting and to pick up her dress. Her MOH is on her way back from her honeymoon today, but the return flight got changed. I cancelled my classes to step in for Susan.”

“Is Dad too busy to bring them by the gallery?” Michael asked on a laugh. “I know how he possessive he feels about Jessica’s vaginas.”

“Will is over at the café helping plan the reception tomorrow,” Brooke said on a sigh. “We could bring the pieces in next week, but Carrie—your organizing fiend of a wife—wants everything in place before the weekend. She said she needs a few days to script out her walk-through, and practice her sales pitches. She’s already ticked that Shane hasn’t come by yet to bless the collage prints she stole from him. She has twenty prints picked out, but still has to frame and hang the work. She says his collage piece will take two days to complete.”

Michael’s affectionate gaze went to his wife, who had finally slipped down into a guest chair and motioned Jessica onto a bench near her. “I’m afraid to leave Carrie alone when she’s this sick.”

“I can help. Where are the vagin—the art pieces that need to be picked up?” Drake said, correcting himself. There was no need to be crass. “I can probably collect the pieces and bring them back here today, if someone can meet me at the location to let me in.”

“Has it been so long since you saw a real vagina that you can’t even bring yourself to say the proper name?” Brooke demanded, sending a smiling challenge in Drake’s direction.

At her rebuke, Drake’s face flooded with even more color than Michael’s comments had put there. His discomfort only lasted for the three seconds it took him to decide he’d had enough of Brooke Daniels’ harassment. She had barely had two civil words of any sort for him in all the time he’d known her. That had been blatantly obvious the day they’d gone to retrieve Shane’s car from the impound lot and she’d treated him like he had the plague. He would be damned if he let her embarrass him with sexual innuendo.

“Yes—it’s been awhile since I saw a real vagina. Are you offering to refresh my memory, Dr. Daniels?” he challenged, holding her gaze and enjoying the shock blooming there.

Drake let his gaze travel the entire length of Brooke only to come back and linger on her crotch a lot longer than was comfortable for either of them. If he kept this sparring up, Drake thought, everything else was going to be up as well.

“If that was your true intent, I assure you it is quite unnecessary. Being an artist, I have a great imagination. So if the harassment is over, I ask again, where do I need to go to pick up Jessica’s art?”

Brooke blinked several times at the seriousness in Drake’s face. Had he really just suggested she show him—no, that was unlikely. He wouldn’t have said such a thing in front of Michael. But when she looked at her soon-to-be stepbrother, his shoulders were shaking as he fought not to laugh. Her temper fuse lit instantly to know she’d be wrong.

“Trust me,” Brooke purred, leaning over the counter in Drake’s direction, her breasts resting on it. “You’ve never seen anything as amazing as what I’m going to show you this afternoon.”

Brooke turned before she got even angrier at him, and started walking away, barking out an address and time over her shoulder without turning around to watch Drake acknowledge what she was saying. With her heart hammering in her chest and visions of being nude with him filling her head again, it wouldn’t have been wise.

Drake let out the breath he’d drawn in when Brooke had leaned toward him, glaring at her back as she stormed away. “That angry woman irritates the hell out of me.”

“Yes, I can see that. Tell you what Barrymore, I’ll buy a portrait of yours for full price if you really get Brooke to show you a significant body part this afternoon,” Michael said, grinning hard. “It can’t be an extremity—has to be something between shoulder and hip. Some major article of clothing has to be removed—no hands, arms, feet, or legs.”

“Like I would ever tell you anything that you could broadcast to the damn world. I don’t know how Carrie puts up with you,” Drake said stiffly, ignoring Michael’s taunt to return to his jewelry work, astonished to see his hands slightly shaking.

The idea of seeing the nubile redhead without clothes was zinging through his fertile mind, and damn—it was thrilling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even had those kinds of thoughts about a woman.

“Evidently your stepsister has been taking lessons from you in harassment. Did Shane get all the manners in your family?” Drake asked.

“You are a pretty quick learner for a man of your advanced age,” Michael answered. “Tomorrow I’m going to ask you if you’ve changed your mind, and I expect to hear the truth.”

“Changed my mind? About what?” Drake demanded, hearing his huffy tone, but unable to change it.

“About whether or not women are still necessary at your age,” Michael explained quietly, returning as nonchalantly as possible to his task, mostly to keep him smile hidden.

Drake snorted. “Make sure you match up the tags, Larson. Your wife might be tolerant of your smart mouth, but I wouldn’t want her to kill you over screwing up her display.”

Michael just laughed as Drake walked stiffly away, no doubt needing some private time to recover from his latest verbal skirmish with Brooke.

Sure wouldn’t take much to push those two over the edge into each other’s arms, Michael thought, grinning as he wondered how best to help do it.

***

When Drake pulled up to Jessica’s new house, Brooke was just climbing out of her car. Drake noticed Jessica wasn’t with her. He cut the engine, climbing out to join her as she waited in the driveway.

“They’re on the kitchen table I hear,” Brooke said without preamble as she walked to the door.

“Are you still living with Jessica?” Drake asked.

“No. I recently moved into Shane’s vacated condo,” she said, unlocking the door.

Half a room of boxes greeted them as they entered, and Brooke smiled at all the work they’d obviously done to get this far. The room had been full last week. She led the way to the kitchen, and sure enough, two fist-size glass vaginas sat on the table. Bubble wrap and a box was nearby.

Drake walked around her and picked up the first piece. Brooke watched as he palmed it, tilted it, and then stroked it with his fingers. She could practically see his artistic mind working.

“If you need some time alone with it, I can step out for a few minutes,” Brooke said snidely.

“Sorry—I’ve never seen anything like this,” Drake said honestly. “It’s quite magnificent.”

Brooke snorted.

“My admiration amuses you?” Drake asked, heat rising in him at her rudeness.

“The artist is my mother. Lucky for you, my future stepfather isn’t here to see the lust on your face,” Brooke said stiffly, crossing her arms.

Drake set the piece down on the bubble wrap, folded it gently into it, and put it into the box. Then he walked to Brooke, put his arms around her, and pulled her hard up against him, matching their hips. He went instantly rock hard against her. It was actually painful after not happening for several years.

“What you saw was admiration of art,” Drake said firmly, staring into Brooke’s shocked gaze. “
This
is lust.” He rocked his hips against hers and held tightly.

“Hey—what the hell are you doing?” Brooke demanded.

“Reacting to your rudeness probably, or maybe this is generic lust engendered by incredible art,” he said. “Or maybe—just maybe—I am as damn deprived as you seem to think I am. Whatever the case is, if you’re going to insult me in the future, at least make up your damn mind which part of my ego you want to slaughter. I’m tired of you misunderstanding every word I utter.”

“I don’t even understand what you’re saying now. You’re talking like a crazy man, Drake. Why the hell don’t you date?” Brooke demanded, staring at his mouth moving ever closer to hers.

“Is that your snide, but probably typical, way of asking a man out?” Drake demanded back.

Brooke was silent while she thought about what to say next, but in the couple of seconds her mouth was closed in thought, Drake’s lips landed roughly on hers. Then her brain short-circuited.

His fingers sliding over her hips and backside had her quivering. When they dug into the back of her thighs and lifted her crotch to fit it expertly against his, her mouth opened on a groan. The man was fully aroused and knew exactly where to press, and it had been a long time since she’d felt anything remotely so wonderful.

God, the man could kiss, Brooke decided, and her mother had been right. Repressed. He’d been repressed. Just not in her arms. In her arms, he seemed to let all the emotion out. It made her unreasonably happy to know she had cracked the icy shell Drake walked around in all the time.

“Brooke,” Drake whispered hoarsely, her name singing in the air between their mouths, his tongue sweeping as he nibbled his way across her bottom lip and back.

He wanted to thrust his tongue into her depths, see what the vitriol so easily rolling off her tongue about him all the time tasted like. But how could he take it further when her shocked heartbeat pounded against his own equally shocked one, and her body vibrated against his like a tuning fork as they held each other. The more Brooke shook in his arms, the harder Drake gripped her, and the more he wanted to drag her to the floor and ease the ache she alone had managed to cause.

“Why are you kissing me like this?” Brooke demanded, hands moving over him, trembling as they reached his face. She had meant to push him away, but instead pulled him closer, finally holding his face captive in her hands as she kissed him back until they were both weaving. Her hands had a mind of their own as they swept over Drake’s back and down to pull his hips equally tight against hers.