Sullivan's Woman by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

I’m working.”
    â€œI’m awfully glad you cleared that up,” Cassidy replied, smiling broadly.
    â€œI’ve also been known to devour young, smart-tongued wenches for breakfast.”
    â€œWenches!” Cassidy’s smile became a delighted grin. “How wonderfully anachronistic. It sounds lovely when you say it, too. I do wish you’d said lusty young wenches, though. I’ve always loved that phrase.”
    â€œThe description doesn’t fit you.” Colin lifted her chin with one finger and brushed her hair over her shoulder with his other hand.
    â€œOh.” Cassidy felt vaguely insulted.
    â€œOnce I’ve set the pose, don’t fidget. I just might throw an easel at you if you do.” While he spoke, he moved her face and body with his hands. His touch was as impersonal as a physician’s. I might as well be a still-life arrangement, Cassidy thought. By his eyes, she saw that his mind had gone beyond her and into his art. She recognized his expression of absolute concentration from her own work. She, too, had a tendency to block out her surroundings and step into her own mind.
    At length he stood back and studied her in silence. It was a natural pose and simple. She stood straight, with the nosegay cupped in both hands and held just below her right hip. Her arms were relaxed, barely bent at the elbows. He had left her hair tumbled free, without design, over both shoulders. “Lift your chin a fraction higher.” He held up a hand to stop the movement. “There. Be still and don’t talk until I tell you.”
    Cassidy obeyed, moving only her eyes to watch him as he strode behind the easel again. He lifted a piece of charcoal. Minutes passed in utter silence as she watched the movements of his arms and shoulders and felt the probing power of his eyes. They returned again and again to her face. She knew he could look into her eyes and see directly into her soul, learning more perhaps than she knew herself. The sensation made her not nervous so much as curious. What would he see? How would he express it?
    â€œAll right,” Colin said abruptly. “You can talk for the moment, but don’t move the pose. Tell me about those unpublished novels of yours.”
    He continued to work with such obsessed concentration that Cassidy assumed he had invited her to talk only to keep her relaxed. She doubted seriously if her words made more than a surface impression. If he heard them at all, he would forget them moments later.
    â€œThere’s only one actually, or one and a half. I’m working on a second novel while the first bounces from rejection slip to rejection slip.” She started to shrug but caught herself in time. “It’s about a woman’s coming of age, the choices she makes, the mistakes. It’s rather sentimental, I suppose. I like to think she makes the right choices in the end. Do you know it’s very difficult to talk without your hands? I had no idea mine were so necessary to my vocabulary.”
    â€œIt’s your Gaelic blood.” Colin frowned deeply at the canvas, then lifted his eyes to hers. By the movement of his shoulders she knew he continued to work. “Will you let me read your manuscript?”
    Surprised, Cassidy stared a moment before gathering her wits. “Well, yes, if you’d like. I—”
    â€œGood,” he interrupted and slashed another line on the canvas. “Bring it with you tomorrow. Be quiet now,” he commanded before Cassidy could speak again. “I’m going to work the face.”
    Silence reigned until he put down the charcoal and shook his head. “It’s not right.” He scowled at Cassidy, then paced. Unsure, she held the pose and her tongue. “You’re not giving me the right mood. Do you know what I want?” he demanded. There was impatience and a hint of temper in his voice. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, seeing the