To My Senses The Nicci Beauvoir Series Book 1 by Alexandrea Weis Read Free Book Online Page A

“Sammy and her crowd can leave me
yawning in record time with their senseless gossip. It’s absolutely
unbearable.”
    “ Then why do you
stay?”
    He turned and looked out
the window, then combed his seductive hands through his dark wavy
hair.
    “ To be a painter,” he began
very slowly, “sometimes you have to do things for the sake of your
art. I stay with Sammy because she believes in my work and can help
me find an audience for what I do.”
    “ Then why come to the
Quarter and set up shop like the other artists?” I took a sip from
my coffee.
    “ I like to get away from….”
He frowned. “From the pressures of my life. I come to meet the
people and talk and paint. I find the atmosphere
relaxing.”
    “ How long have you been a
painter?”
    “ Good Lord, probably since
I was born. I began painting when I was about fifteen.” He smiled,
recalling his memories. “I lived with my aunt most of my life. My
mother died when I was very small and my father was always gone. He
was a merchant seaman. My Aunt Flo raised me in New York.” He took
another sip from his tea. “She was a wealthy widow who had many
socially prominent friends interested in the arts. Her neighbor,
Mrs. Jane Callaway, put the idea into my aunt’s head that I needed
art lessons at some fancy school she sponsored. Well, it wasn’t
long until I realized that Mrs. Callaway really had other plans for
me.” He smiled, half laughing at me.
    It took me a minute to
understand why he was so amused. “A fifteen-year-old boy?” I
clamored.
    He shrugged. “It wasn’t as
bad as you think.”
    “ I’m sure you didn’t think
it was bad, at all.”
    “ Actually, you’re right. My
aunt eventually found out and had a private meeting with Mrs.
Callaway. I was told never to return to her home, or the art
school. I discovered that I really enjoyed the art classes. I
bugged poor old Flo until she relented and sent me to another art
school. I’ve been at it ever since.”
    “ Art?” I sarcastically
posed.
    Yes, art.” He gave me a
second look. “The rest…that came later. It comes with the
territory. I get what I need and I give them what they
need.”
    “ Oh,” was all I could think
to say. I took another swig of coffee.
    “ Nicci, you’re not a child.
I won’t sit here and pretend I don’t live a different kind of
lifestyle than I do.” His gray eyes seemed colder and the muscles
tensed along his jawline.
    “ I just think you could do
better. You are wasting yourself, waiting for someone else to give
you something that you have to achieve on your own. Sammy and her
cronies don’t give a damn about you. You’re just a prize to be
flaunted and then discarded.”
    “ I don’t want to get into a
moral discussion with you.”
    I could see the topic was closed by the
stern look on his face.
    I sat staring into the
black pool of coffee swirling in my mug. My heart felt about as
black as the coffee, and was probably just as bitter. David tore
into the second roll and didn’t speak until he had finished every
bite.
    Then he sighed, breaking
the tension between us. “I don’t want you to be angry with me. I
feel like you’re the only person I can talk to in this town.” He
reached across the table and patted my hand. “Enough about my droll
life. I thought we came to talk about you.” His demeanor cheered
and the heavy atmosphere around the table lifted.
    I shook my head. “Compared
to you, I’m a complete bore.”
    “ I don’t believe that.
You’re smart, funny, easy to talk to, and damned attractive. I
can’t believe there aren’t men lining up from all parts of town to
date you.”
    “ Please, dating is
comparable to torture in my book. The same boring conversations
about what his parents do and what my father does. What he is
majoring in and what I am majoring in…blah, blah, blah.”
    David leaned his elbows on
the table. “It’s called getting to know one another.”
    “ Well, I gave it up for
Lent.” I sat back in