Read Between the Lines (Business of Love #6) - Ali Parker Page 0,2
a rough but safe hostel in order to afford to do all the things I wanted.
“I feel like royalty now,” I told Grace as we moved into the living room to sit for a few minutes with our wine before dinner. I curled up in my usual corner of our powder gray sectional sofa and looked around. Everything was the same. Our white brick fireplace stood out against navy blue accent walls. The rest of the walls were such a light shade of gray they almost seemed white. Fixtures, lighting, and accents were done in brass or black. The townhouse, despite its age, felt modern inside thanks to Grace’s keen eye for design.
It was as I was admiring how beautiful our home was that I noticed a third place setting on the dining room table. “Is someone joining us for dinner?”
Grace’s eyes flicked to the table before she averted them to her wine glass. “Um, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
She pulled her full bottom lip into her mouth. “I probably should have told you during one of our calls that I, um, I had to get a third roommate in order to cover the rent while you were gone.”
“Oh.”
“Are you upset?”
“No,” I said hurriedly.
Was I? I had no right to be. I’d been the one to up and leave with three day’s notice. I’d paid two months worth of rent before Grace told me I didn’t have to since I wasn’t coming home anytime soon. I supposed it had been kind of naïve of me to assume she could afford to pay the full rent, which wasn’t cheap by any means in Manhattan, without any support.
“I should have told you,” Grace said again.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said earnestly.
“You don’t like strangers and you’ve been surrounded by them while you were traveling. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you.”
“It’s fine.”
Grace licked her lips. “She’s really nice, if that makes a difference. And professional. She cooks, cleans, and has respect for the home.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” I lied. “Seriously, Grace, I’m not upset. I understand completely why someone moved in. Just… you know it takes me a bit to warm up to new people.”
“I know.”
“What’s her name?”
“Juliette. She’s a marriage counselor.”
“A professional,” I mused. In other words, my opposite.
“Yes. You two will get along I think.”
I sipped my wine. One could hope. I was done sharing rooms and hostels with strangers. Now that I was home, I wanted to pull into my little antisocial shell and focus on making money so I could hop on a plane and begin anew.
I eyed my friend. “That’s why you bought the slippers and the cute outfit, isn’t it? You were buttering me up.”
“Maybe,” Grace admitted, trying to hide her smile.
“You sly fox.”
Chapter 2
Walker
My model, Aayla Rose, sat posed the same way I’d instructed her to for our previous two live painting sessions. She was angled toward me and sitting atop a chaise lounge. Correction, she wasn’t sitting per se but rather draped over it like she’d been poured onto the chair out of a pitcher. One long leg stretched out to the end of the chaise while the other was drawn up, knee bent, to create interesting angles. Her right arm dangled off the edge, the tips of her fingers nearly grazing the floor, and she held the other up and over her head.
At present, it was that hand I was painting.
Aayla Rose was a beautiful young woman from Jamaica. She’d responded to the invitation on my website to send headshots and photos to be paid for live modeling sessions and serve as my inspiration. As soon as I’d clicked on the headshot she emailed me, I knew I wanted to work with her. She had a unique look that invited a person to stare a little longer than might be considered appropriate. I, for one, had admired the picture for over six minutes before I managed to take my eyes from the screen.
Her smooth, even skin was a deep dark brown that seemed to glow and glisten under the intentional lighting of my studio. Her hair was buzzed short, hardly a shadow of black over her scalp, making it impossible to miss the sharp rise of her cheekbones, the edge of her jaw, and the dramatic arch of her brows. Her eyelids were heavy and her gaze sultry as she pouted out her bottom lip and cast her gaze my direction so I could capture the sharp hazel of her irises.