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“I appreciate the restraint.”

I smiled despite myself. He didn’t react the way I expected him to. Most men like Richard became defensive the second a woman wasn’t impressed by them. He seemed entertained by it. His attention shifted to the portfolio beside my chair.

“Is that your work?”

“Some of it.”

“I’d like to see it sometime.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You really want to see my paintings or are you just trying to butter me up?”

“I wasn’t just interested in your paintings when I gave you my number.”

I laughed. “That might be the first honest thing you’ve said that’s actually hurt your case.”

“I said I was interested in you. The paintings are a bonus.”

I hesitated before opening my portfolio and pulling out a few photographs of my paintings.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

Richard smiled as he took them. “I’ll try not to.”

He went through them slowly, studying each painting longer than I expected. I found myself watching his face instead of the photographs, trying to figure out what he thought before he said anything.

Then he found my painting of Florence.

I’d never been there, but I’d spent enough time looking through art books and travel magazines that parts of the city had become almost familiar to me. In the painting, my mother stood near the river in Florence in a pale yellow dress, with the old city behind her.

Richard studied the photograph for a long time.

“Who’s the woman?”

“My mom.” I nodded. “She always wanted to go.”

Something in his expression softened. “Did she ever get to?”

“No.” I ran my thumb along the edge of the photograph. “She died when I was eight.”

Richard went quiet. Most people immediately apologized when I told them. They gave me that same sympathetic look I’d been getting since childhood and told me how sorry they were, even though they had never met her. Richard didn’t do that. He looked at the painting again instead.

“So you took her there.”

I swallowed. “I guess I did.”

I’d never really thought about the painting that way. I knew why I’d put her there, of course, but hearing someone else say it made the reason feel more real.

Richard leaned closer to study the details. “You’ve never been there either.”

I frowned. “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been there, and the city doesn’t look exactly like this. You’ve taken pieces from different parts of the city and put them together.” His eyes moved over the photograph again. “You built the version you wanted.”

I smiled slightly. “I’ve looked at a lot of pictures.”

“I can tell.”

“Is that an insult?”