"I can read it," he said. He was slightly annoyed.
"Of course. You're not that attractive."
Jemma cut off a shriek of laughter.
"You don't think I'm attractive?" he asked, staring at me with intense gray eyes.
"I mean you're not stupid attractive. Just stupidly attractive," I amended. "Feel free to peruse the artwork while you wait." I even did finger guns.Kill me.
The hint of a smirk played around his stupidly attractive mouth as the man slowly walked around the small historic building. I didn't have much, okayany, money really to decorate. I had done what I could with paint and old furniture I refinished. Sweat dripped down my back as the well-dressed man slowly studied my artwork.
"See anything you like?" I chirped.
His gaze swung back toward me. "Maybe."
"If you don't, I can paint you," I offered then mentally kicked myself.
He looked at me. "Paint me? Like paint on me or paint a painting of me?"
There was a creepy answer and a less creepy answer. Guess which one I went with.
"Paint on you." His eyes widened ever so slightly. "That came out wrong. Whoops! Make a painting of you. I just—you have a proportional face. I didn't mean that as some sort of innuendo. That would be creepy, and besides, I couldn't paintonyou. You're wearing too many clothes," I finished lamely.
Geez, Hazel, go right for the dial and turn the creep factor up to a hundred, why don't you?I tried to ignore him and hurried to measure out the ingredients for the drink.
"That's easily remedied," he said then turned back to the painting. It was the big collage that Jemma had been teasing me about earlier. I was acutely aware of him studying my artwork. Maybe Jemma was right and I should have hung up something a little more intellectual.
"This is the ugliest painting I've ever seen," the man declared.
I froze. Jemma looked wide-eyed between us.
"It's perfect," the man announced. "How much?"
"Wha—"
"How much for the painting?" he prodded. I gaped at him.
"A thousand dollars," Jemma answered.
"Sold," he said, walking back toward me.
"Seriously?" I sputtered and spilled some of the liquor. "Sorry," I muttered, searching for a rag. Sexy Sunglasses took the glass and slowly licked off the spilled droplets. I swallowed. He put down the drink.
"Nice cocktail," he all but purred.
"You too…"
He almost smiled. "Cock… tail?"
"What I meant was—" I swallowed. My throat was dry. "I'm sure it's very adequate."
"Adequate?"
I nodded then realized what I was doing and shook my head. "I'm sure it's the talk of the town."
"She takes credit cards," Jemma called out. Sweat dripped down under my boobs. I flapped my cropped T-shirt to try and get some air under there. His eyes followed the motion.
"Sorry, you're making me wet," I said then hastily corrected myself. "Like sweaty, not the other kind. That would be weird."
