Loving Grace by Eve Asbury Read Free Book Online

suspended moment to
admire the physique, the disheveled, long hair, the tanned, cut
sculpture of his torso. She wondered how faded jeans with torn
pockets and ragged hems could look so sexy.
    “You walk very quietly.” He hadn’t turned and
was still applying brush to canvas as he’d spoken. “Make yourself
comfortable...Jane. There is coffee, pastry on the table to the
right.”
    Grace looked toward the foldout table with a
large coffeepot atop it and a platter of pastry. The surface was
also holding a full wine rack with glasses, which was likely, last
night’s dinner from a Chinese restaurant.
    She took off her coat, feeling like a sneak
when she clicked a photo of him before placing it on a studio
chair. Shaking inside too badly to consume caffeine, she lifted one
of the water bottles from a stainless steel tray.
    Having no idea if he was averse to her
looking over his shoulder, Grace walked past him, leaving three
feet of distance between them, to the long Egyptian sofa that
reminded her of an old west bordello. Still, flanked by two large
green leather chairs with tarnished brads and wide feet, it seemed
to fit.
    While she was sipping water, her gaze went
over his bare feet and up to what she could see that wasn’t blocked
by the easel and canvas. When she reached his face, he wasn’t
painting at all, but merely watching her.
    Grace swallowed hard, lowered the bottle, and
smiled lamely.
    He stared a few seconds more before putting
the brushes in a jar of mineral spirits. Then he stepped around the
easel, wiping his paint-smudged hands on the legs of his jeans.
    Grace’s eyes dipped. Yes indeed, they went
right to the low riding waistband and skimmed slow, over a taut
abdomen, a ridge of black hair, honed skin, and muscle, dark
nipples, wide shoulders...
    Jesus, he looked good.
    “Come...Jane.”
    His smooth tone drew her eyes upward. She
stood, aware he’d been waiting for her to look at him. She used the
time it took to follow him to a dark setting to cool her flushed
cheeks. He flipped a switch and immediately light flooded the
space.
    A jungle. Grace heard the sounds grow louder;
tropical birds, mysterious calls and a low drum beat. Had it been
faster it would have matched her heart. His eyes were on her, over
her, warm chocolate brown, with an expression that was somewhere
between pensive and intense.
    Wondering if he saw the pulse beat in her
throat or heard the quickening of her breath, Grace wet her dry
lips. Being this close to him was nearly overwhelming.
    He walked around the set, moving things,
shifting them. Before waving her over and sitting her on a stump.
Frowning, he murmured, “Relax. Not so stiffly.” He walked around
her several times.
    When his hand touched her hair, she jumped,
and then closed her eyes, willing herself to relax... yeah, right,
Grace.
    Moments seemed to stretch out while she sat
with eyes closed, feeling his occasional touch on her arm, her
shoulder, her cheek. She opened them feeling his hand pick up her
foot.
    Oh God. He was on his knees, unzipping the
boots, taking them off, setting them aside. He glanced up and their
gaze held.
    “Relax.”
    “I am.”
    His lips curved into a smile. He reached up,
moved her hands off her thighs and shook them a bit by the wrist,
and then touched her chin with warm, strong, artistic fingers.
“Next time, leave the cosmetics off. I always start with a blank
canvas.”
    “I can wash it off.”
    He stood and nodded. “That way.”
    The floor was cold concrete. She tried not to
walk fast but rushed nonetheless to the bathroom. The space was
huge, well laid out. Grace was scrubbing her face when he stepped
through the door.
    “Wash your hair.”
    “Pardon?” She paused, bent over at the chrome
sink.
    “Is it too cold in here?”
    “Other than the floor, no.” She picked up a
white towel and pressed it to her face, thankful to have it covered
for a moment to collect herself. He was warm, close, big, and in
the room. The sound of