Defensive Heart: The Donnolleys, Book 2 by Dorothy F. Shaw Read Free Book Online Page B

sixty.
    “To your left. Last door.”
    “All right.” Sonja stepped into the hall and walked in the direction he’d directed.
    Again he moved right next to her, his hand pressed to her lower back. She liked it, more than she wanted to admit. The warmth of his insistent touch rekindled the memory of how he’d grabbed her outside the courthouse. How he’d nipped her bottom lip. She’d wanted him to kiss her. Which was crazy because at the same time she wanted to slap his face and push him away. The man made her mind fuzzy, made her want things she normally never wanted. Especially from someone like him.
    When they reached the door, James dug his keys from his front pocket. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, motioning for her to enter. The first thing she noticed in the entry hall was a small side table. A few sculptured clay bowls sat atop it. One bowl held keys and other miscellaneous items. The second thing she noticed was the beautiful dark mahogany wood floor stretching out before her.
    James set his keys in the bowl on the small table. “Can I get you something to drink?”
    “You have a refrigerator?” She shrugged. “I guess that makes sense. Water if you have it.”
    He moved past her and stepped through a doorway ahead on the left. She followed and peeked inside. It was a full kitchen. Why does he have a full kitchen in his studio? Sonja ventured farther down the hall until it opened into a large space. Complete with a small dining table tucked in the corner and beyond, a couch, a love seat, chair, ottoman, coffee table— holy crap, this is his apartment!
    He placed her briefcase on the table and held out a bottle of water to her. “Here you go.”
    “I thought we were going to your studio.”
    “We are.”
    Confusion boomeranged in her mind. She took the offered bottle and opened it. “This is your apartment.”
    “Yup.”
    “James, did you think you could just take me back to your apartment and…what? What did you think exactly?”
    He sipped his water. “This is my home, Sonja, and it’s also my studio. Lighten up, would you? You’re always so damn uptight.”
    “You said your studio . You failed to mention it was also your home.”
    “Fine. Guilty. Happy now? Drink your water and relax. My studio is downstairs.” He turned away from her and headed for a set of stairs tucked against the wall.
    “Fine.” With a sigh, she followed and took each step down carefully in her heels. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a jerk?”
    He laughed. “A time or two, yeah.”
    “At least you’re aware. I suppose there’s hope for you then.”
    He flipped a light switch at the bottom of the steps, illuminating the space. “Sonja Martin, did you just make a joke?”
    “It happens on occasion. Don’t get too excited about it.” Navigating the last step, she followed behind him into a large space with brick walls and a stained concrete floor.
    “There’s the girl I’ve barely come to know.”
    “Please, you don’t know m—” A large canvas propped against the brick wall to her right caught her attention. It was smeared with red and yellow paint. Sonja took a moment and looked around, noticing the different pieces of his work in different stages of creation.
    Against the far wall, which was made up entirely of windows, was a long table. Several pieces of scrap metal were scattered atop it. Some were car parts, from what she could tell, but others were unidentifiable. She moved to another piece on an easel to her left. There were intricate lines of what looked like copper wires that appeared to be welded together. The lines framed images painted on the canvas. A city skyline with a river in the distance and a bridge. It was almost elegant, in an odd sort of way.
    “That’s my latest commissioned piece. I need to have it done by this weekend.”
    “It’s beautiful. Truly.”
    He stepped behind her, his body so close she felt the heat radiating off it. James placed his hands on her waist.