Dark Masterpiece (Serendipity Series 3) (7 page)

“White,” she answered. “Red is too dry for
me.”

His lips quirked. “Then you’ve never tasted a
really good red wine.”

She was surprised at his
almost playful banter. She was actually wondering why he was even
out there talking to her at all. Was he really
that
pleased with her cleaning
abilities? If that was the case then she seriously needed to
rethink her career choice. If her skills with a mop and a duster
could soften a man like Traevyn Whitelaw even a little, she could
make serious bank if she marketed on it.

She set her sketchpad on her lap and folded
her arms. “What constitutes a ‘really good red wine’ then?”

He held up his glass and swirled the
contents.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, that tells me
volumes.”

One corner of his mouth rose in a wry,
lopsided smile and he moved forward, holding the glass out to her.
“Try it.”

She blinked in bewilderment, but complied. It
went down surprisingly smooth without the harsh, bitter bite she
was used to.

“Merlot is decent, and I enjoy Cabernet
Sauvignon, but my preference is Shiraz,” he supplied. “Each vintage
is different, of course, but I find it generally enjoyable all the
way around.”

She handed the glass back to him and nodded.
“It’s good.” She gave a short, nervous laugh and pushed her hair
behind her ears in a self-conscious gesture. “I’m used to the five
dollar bottle of White Zinfandel that you get at the convenience
store.”

He made a face. “That is vile.”

She snorted. “Well excuse me for not being a
wine connoisseur. You’re lucky I drink wine at all. When you went
to SOU were you living it up at the frat parties with your glass of
Shiraz?”

A dry chuckle was torn from his lips and he
shook his head. “No. My roommate was living it up at the frat
parties with his lips suctioned onto the beer tap. I stayed in my
dorm and painted…” He slid his gaze over her with a devilish glint
in his eyes. “With my glass of Shiraz.”

She giggled and fell silent, enjoying the
conversation, but not knowing how to prolong it.

“Which is your favorite?” he questioned
suddenly.

She frowned. “Huh?”

“Out of all the classics you claim to enjoy.
Which do you like the best?”

He wandered closer to her
chair, and Evie hastily closed her sketchpad, not wanting him to
see that she had been drawing him. She thought for a moment.
“
Wuthering Heights
, I think.”

He arched an eyebrow. “The tragic romance
type, are you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I just
like brooding men.” She blushed as she realized what she had just
said.

Traevyn’s lips turned up at the corners.
“Brooding men are dangerous.”

She met his eyes and thought that he might be
half-teasing, but she couldn’t be sure. “What is your
favorite?”

“
The Phantom of the Opera
,” he
replied without hesitation.

She blinked in surprise.
“Really?” She had figured he would be more
The Old Man and the Sea
,
or
The Grapes of
Wrath
type
.
Something depressing and full
of
symbolism.

He nodded. “I think everyone can relate to
the opera ghost in some fashion. Most of us have felt an outcast at
some point in our lives. All of us have suffered the sting of
rejection.”

Evie nodded, noticing how he stared off into
nothingness as he spoke the last part of his statement. “And
everyone, regardless of what they may claim, just wants to be loved
for who they are.”

He met and held her eyes for one long second
of silence, then gave a slow nod and took another sip of wine.

She shrugged. “I would have picked the
Phantom over Raoul any day.”

He frowned. “You would have gone with the
broken, disfigured man over the dashing hero?”

“In a second.”

He fixed her with a quizzical look.
“Why?”

“Well, because,” she shot him a glance,
“Raoul was just the dashing hero, but the Phantom was
beautiful.”

Traevyn studied her for a moment. She
continued to surprise him. Evie saw things most people would look
right over. She was proving to have a depth of soul that was rare.
It was like she looked at something and saw straight into the very
core of it without even pausing to glance at the surface. His eyes
narrowed as he saw her wince and start to rub at a spot in her
shoulder. She yawned. He sighed, feeling bad that she had gone
grocery shopping early that morning, had promptly come back and
cleaned for eight hours, then made a delicious dinner and cleaned
up the kitchen alone while her brother had spent the entire day
wasting space on his couch with a video game console. She deserved
a long soak in a Jacuzzi. He sighed again and, though it went
against his nature, traveled around to the back of her chair and
placed one hand over the shoulder she was rubbing.

Evie’s eyes flew open and she tensed. Her
stomach made an uncomfortable flip as she felt his fingers gently
knead at her sore muscle.

“I imagine you have a
fondness for Pip in
Great
Expectations
as well?” he
asked.

She nodded and tried to keep her focus. Her
heart beat erratically and she felt stupid for it. “Like I said, I
seem to levitate towards the brooding, tormented men. Dangerous or
not, they’re just more interesting.”

He paused for several seconds. “You should
soak your sore muscles,” he finally suggested. “Otherwise you’ll
barely be able to move in the morning.” He dropped his hand and
came around to stand in front of her. “The tub in the guest
bathroom is horribly small. My tub has jets in it. Miss Austin,
please use my bathroom if you’d like.”

She stared up at him, stunned. The fact that
he was being nice disturbed her. Maybe it was because he was
drinking wine. Hey, she wasn’t going to complain, and she
definitely wasn’t going to turn down a soak in an enormous tub. She
stood. “Thank you. I think I will take you up on that offer. By the
way, I think it would be safe to call me by my first name. This
Miss Austin stuff is killing me.”

He nodded. “Very well. I will remain out
here or in the office until you are finished. Have a good night,
Miss Austin.”

Evie put a hand on her hip and sighed.
“Didn’t we just go over this?”

He gave a small smile. “Forgive me.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Come on,” she urged,
“you can say it. Have a good night…”

“Evie,” he answered.

For some stupid reason, she shivered again.
Trying to ignore that strange reaction to her name spoken in his
deep, velvety voice, she nodded and turned back toward the door.
“Goodnight, Mr. Whitelaw.”

He watched her go, then sighed and turned
back to the sea. He closed his eyes and let the sound of it soothe
him, momentarily easing the ache in his soul.

Chapter Six

The terrace and the office became Evie’s
favorite spots as the days dragged on. She spent most of her time
either drawing on the terrace or attempting to paint in the studio,
which never really got that far. She tended to avoid the studio
most of the time anyway since Traevyn was in there nine times out
of ten, and he made her amazingly uncomfortable. She would go in
when she knew he was elsewhere to sneak a peek at his current
projects, but she tried to be out of there before he returned. She
felt very inadequate next to his artistic genius.

She was pleasantly surprised to find that
Traevyn had become much more cordial to her. She couldn’t really
say why, but she wasn’t going to complain. He shared small snippets
of conversation with her from time to time, and that was nice. He
also joined her often when she was reading in the office. A lot of
the time neither one of them said much of anything. They both sat
in their respective corners and read until they were tired. At
times, Evie would react to something she had read, prompting
Traevyn to question her about it. It was during these quiet
evenings that she and Traevyn had the most interaction. She came to
realize that he loved discussing literature and enjoyed hearing her
opinions, as well. Some nights, they would share long conversations
on a certain character, or something that one of them thought was
particularly symbolic.

Other nights, Traevyn didn’t say much of
anything at all, but Evie enjoyed it either way. She had a theory
that it was because of these evenings spent together that he had
softened toward her somewhat.

She continued to make dinner every night,
which Traevyn was always on time for. Most of the time she didn’t
mind. There was a side of her that was very domestic. She liked to
experiment with new recipes, and it made her feel good to be needed
in some small way. Heaven knew Seth would starve if she didn’t feed
him.

“Crap!” Seth shouted suddenly.

Evie glanced over at him from where she had
been trying to read in the living room. He flung his video game
controller across the room. She rolled her eyes. “Smart, Seth.
Maybe you could aim at one of Traevyn’s expensive decorations next
time. I’m sure you’d love to work it off.”

He huffed. “I’ve fought that thing six times
and I still can’t beat it!” he cried in exasperation.

Evie raised her eyebrows. “I’m…sorry?”

“You don’t care,” he grumbled.

She smiled. “What are you going to do when
you beat all the games you brought with you?”

“Die of boredom,” he spat. “Seriously, this
is, like, the worst summer ever.”

She sighed. She did feel bad that Seth had
to just sit around all day. She could occupy herself with Traevyn’s
books and her art, but Seth wasn’t interested in things like that.
“Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight?” she suggested. “We
haven’t had pizza in a week and a half.” She flashed him a
grin.

Seth looked at her and smirked. “What about
Darth Whitelaw?” he mocked. “Won’t he cut your pay if you ditch out
on his dinner?”

“Screw that. I’ll just invite him to go
along.”

Seth frowned. “I’m sure that’ll go over
well.”

She waved his comment away. “He’ll just have
to deal one way or another. It’s not fair that you can’t go out and
do anything, and I’m sick of being cooped up in here too.” She
stood. “I bet the man hasn’t had pizza in years. I honestly wonder
what he ate before I started cooking for him.”

“The salesmen that came to the door,” Seth
said flatly.

Evie let out a rather loud burst of laughter
and shook her head. “You’re horrible. I’m going to find him and ask
him to go.”

“Doesn’t that totally defeat the purpose of
having fun?”

She scowled. “Seth, come on. Don’t be rude.
He’s not completely awful. Maybe if you spoke to him once in awhile
instead of just monopolizing his TV you’d know that.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just go and
ask the guy so we can leave soon. I’m hungry.”

Evie mounted the staircase, smiling to
herself as she heard Seth grumble something about needing to get
his driver’s license. She headed to the office, but Traevyn wasn’t
there. She checked the studio, but he wasn’t there either. That
only left his room, since he never ventured down to her end of the
house, and she had just been in the living room. Unless he was in
the dungeon of the basement, but she doubted that.

She hummed cheerily to herself as she
approached his door, but she stopped short just before knocking.
Her smile faded when she heard the distinct sound of muffled sobs.
Her heart twisted as she put her ear closer to the door and
listened while the ever-scowling, ever-poised, dark artist cried as
if his heart was breaking. She hesitated a moment, uncertain of how
to proceed. She knew she couldn’t just walk away and let him cry,
but she couldn’t let him know she had been listening, either. She
had a feeling that he wouldn’t be very thrilled to be caught in a
weakened state.

Evie turned and went back down the hallway.
She stopped at the beginning of it, counted to five and kicked the
wall hard enough to make a loud noise. “Ow!” she exclaimed, making
sure she was loud enough to be heard. That would announce her
presence if nothing else. She counted to five again, then headed
back to his room. She took a deep breath and knocked.

“Just a moment,” he called from inside, his
voice soft, but clear.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she waited,
still greatly troubled at the thought of him sobbing alone in his
bedroom.

Traevyn opened the door looking no worse for
the wear. His eyes were red, but his presence was the same. Calm,
aloof, icy. He was good at hiding his emotions. “What is it?”

She plastered a grin on her face. “Seth and
I were going to go to Monterey and get pizza tonight.”

He gave a solemn nod. “Very well. I’ll just
find something here. Have a good time.” He started to turn
away.

“Wait!” she cried. She sighed and took a step
in the room. “We wanted you to come with us.”

He stared at her for a moment before his dark
brows drew together in an almost confused frown. “Are you out of
your mind?”

She arched an eyebrow. “A little. More so
since I’ve been living here with you.”

His features softened and his lips turned up
slightly. He sighed. “Thank you for the invitation, but you go and
have fun with your brother.”

She huffed. “Oh come on!” she exclaimed.
“Please? What do you have better to do? Sit in your tower and
read?”

He raised his eyebrows. “My tower? Well, yes
actually. Perhaps I’ll weave some magic while I’m at it,” he
grumbled.

Evie smiled. It was important to her, now
more than ever, to get him to go with them. She would have let it
go originally, but not now. She couldn’t leave him alone to be at
the mercy of his ghosts and demons while she went out and had a
good time. She wouldn’t do it.