“Yes. This way.”
I opened the door to my studio. As I set up my sketchpad on the easel and selected several pencils I would need, footsteps and the rustling of clothing marked Titus’s movements.
Ready, I lifted my head and was so damn grateful my mouth didn’t hang open. Titus stood there in front of me. Naked.
Ten grand, ten grand, I repeated silently like a mantra.
“Lay down on the futon and choose a pose,” I said cool and calm once more. I’d already pulled the bed to the center for a better view—better view? Heck, I was getting an up close and personal view of his package.
I blew out a breath, praying my face wasn’t red.
Titus tried lying down first, but the frown on his forehead told me he wasn’t happy yet. He sat up again in a liquid movement and rested an arm on his knee.
“No. Lie on your side, raise a knee, and rest your arm on it.”
He did as I instructed, but it looked too forced. Heck, I didn’t want my painting to look like San Francisco’s top model was constipated.Thatwould shoot my chances of referrals to hell. “You need to relax.”
His gaze flicked my way. “Iamrelaxed.”
Sheesh. Seriously? I crossed to him. “Lie on your side, and move that knee—no, not like that.” I tapped on his one knee, so he dropped it down a little.
My gaze lowered and, just as fast, shot away from his groin.
Oh. Man! Was he going to get a hard-on every time we had a session?
He shrugged, appearing a little sheepish. “Sorry about that. I’m only human. You’re close, touching me…and you’re sexy.”
Really? In my paint-splashed jeans? Ugh. Yanking a clean sheet off the shelf I used for covering my work, I tossed it to him. “This would work best for the both of us. Drape it over your hips. Trust me, this painting will be more seductive without your, uh, assets revealed.”
He frowned for a second. “No. No, sheet. I want the nude, but without my penis on display.”
God, me too!
He pulled one knee up, blocking Mr. Happy.
Ten grand, I repeated. And it would ease the burden on the people I loved. With Mom’s medical bills piling up, Dad needed the help.
Going back to my easel, I picked up my pencil. Titus moved around as he changed positions, so I got various views, but he always brought the knee back up, and at one point, he even draped the sheet over his groin. I nearly shouted hallelujah.
Once the scheduled time was over, I tossed down my pencil and rolled my tense shoulders. Titus changed and strolled over. God, I hoped he was happy with what I’d done. He studied the series of sketches. Nothing showed on his face as he flipped through the sheets. Then... “They’re really good.”
Relief nearly had me landing on my backside. He settled for the one with his raised knee. Right then, I didn’t care if it had been a complete frontal. I had the job.
I walked Titus out to the front. He glanced briefly into the living room. I liked keeping my personal and professional lives separate.
“Ila?” Ray wandered into the foyer from the living room. “Man, it’s been a crazy day…” Her gaze landed on Titus, and her eyes bugged out. Of course, not everything stayed separate.
I introduced my googly-eyed, tongue-tied sibling. “Titus, my sister, Ray.”
“Hi there,” he said absently, checking his cell for messages. He disappeared out the front door without a goodbye.
I half expected Ray to faint. No, wait. A miracle. My sister was speechless. Then, a scramble of words erupted. “Was that—was that—”
“Titus Connor? Yes.”
“The-the—”
“The famous underwear model. Yep.”
