Picture Me Naked (Stoddard Art School Series) (12 page)

Tears pinched the backs of Zee’s eyes. How sad. Her heart ached for the man. It ached for his son. It was obvious how much he missed him. “I think I would have liked your father, too.”

The van grew quiet. So did Jagger. Zee looked out her window at the dark, wet road passing by and swiped at a tear. He was being so open. It was one of the things she admired about him. It was how he was. Open, caring, and carefree all at the same time. Sharing something so private and personal… The intimacy was not lost on her. It tugged at her heart.

When she looked ahead, she realized the ride was almost over. Her building was only a block away. Jagger stopped at the end of Highland Street and turned to her. The glow from the dashboard lights bathed his handsome face. The rain had stopped. It was quiet.

“You’re almost there.” Her voice sounded hushed in the dark. Was she talking about home? Paris? Or her?

Chapter Fourteen

“You did not! Now, you’re making stuff up.”

“It was part of the job.”

“You shaved the bearded lady?”

“Donna. Every Sunday after the matinee. She always had a date Sunday night. We’d break down the show. By the time we traveled to the next town and set up on Friday, it’d be grown back. She was a furry little beast that one. But sweet and funny. ’Course, I refused to wax her back. I do have my pride.”

Zee stopped between stairs and laughed.

“Come on, don’t stop now. Quit your giggling. Up ye go.”

She turned on the step to face him. “You really don’t have to do this. It’s five flights.”

“You’ve got too much stuff to make it in one trip. Just lead the way.”

“But…” With her on a higher step, she was at the perfect height to pull in for a kiss. If he wasn’t carrying twenty pounds of cat food, he’d have attempted that.

“I swear, I’ll drop your things at your doorstep and be on my way. It’s fine. I can add pack yak to my resume along with bearded lady shaver.”

Zee laughed again and kept climbing. She practically jogged up the stairs. Jagger considered himself in great shape, but he was breathing like he was in the middle of a raucous romp. She did this every day? “Now I know why you have such a killer ass.” Said “killer” was nicely at eye level. Maybe it wasn’t the climb that was affecting his breathing. Very nice.

“I do?” She looked back at him over one shoulder.

“It’s from all these bloody stairs. How did you ever move all your stuff up here?”

“Oh, there’s an elevator.” She trotted up to the next landing.

He stopped mid flight. “Wait. There is? You’re trying to kill me.”

“Just the opposite. It’s one of those rattley, death-trap, freight elevators. Scary as hell. It creaks and shudders and there’s a good chance you’ll get stuck between floors for hours.”

They reached the fifth floor. He pulled air into his lungs. “That could be fun with the right person.” Meaning her.

“Not me. I’m claustrophobic.” Zee unlocked her door. “You don’t have to rush off, Jagger. Catch your breath. Let me get you a dry shirt.”

“I promised to drop and run.”
Fool.
“But I wouldn’t say no to something dry. There’s a bit of a frost here at the top of Mount Everest.”

She flashed him that dimple. “Come on in. I’m sure I have a sweatshirt that will fit.” She flipped on a light and indicated the table. “You can just put Bella’s food there. I’ll be right back.”

When she disappeared down a short hallway he took a look around. Nice place. You could tell an artist lived there. Easels and paint tubes claimed the corner of the dining room. Decorated coffee cans held dozens of brushes. Sketches were everywhere.

The living room was cozy. It had a great lived-in feel. Zee had a long red couch littered with pillows in every color. A yellow rocking chair sat near a bright blue table covered with more drawings. Of him. He smiled. He liked being in her space, even if it was only on paper.

A black and white cat rubbed around his ankles looked up at him with pea green eyes and gave him a loud meow. “You have to be Isabella Rossellini.” He scooped up the cat and scratched her behind one ear. The cat practically melted in his arms and began purring. If only he could have the same effect on her owner.

Carrying the pile of purring fur, he walked around the living room. Most of the art on the walls was Zee’s. There were a couple of wild abstracts that were signed LM. They had to be Leah’s.

A tiny fireplace held dusty logs. A pink rock, a silver bell, and two tall blue bottles decorated the mantel. Next to the fireplace sat an overstuffed bookcase with a dozen teacups littering its top. Jagger looked over a small collection of framed photos tucked among the books. No photos of men. None of Ed. One of a bit of a girl in braids that had to be Zee. He recognized the dimple. She was standing with an older woman with a lovely smile. The woman had her head resting on the top of Zee’s and they both had their arms wrapped around each other.

There was a small photo of Zee and Leah at the beach. Leah was barely wearing a red and white checkered bikini. Was that Bugs Bunny tattooed on her hip? Zee wore a black suit and one of those wraps around her hips, and a hat that could shade half the beach.

Jagger picked up a third photo of Zee with a strange looking woman in a fringed vest and flowered jeans flashing a peace sign at the camera. From Zee’s description, this had to be her mother. What was it with quirky mothers?

Tonight was the first time he’d talked about his mum in months. He couldn’t believe he’d told Zee so much about Da, either. It wasn’t something he shared. It was still hard for him to talk about Da’s death. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was trying not to think about a dripping Zee in his van less than three feet from a perfectly good bed.

Talking about his family and his trip had kept him from pulling over to the side of the road, climbing into the back with her, and helping them both out of their wet clinging clothes.

“I see you’ve met Isabella.” Zee stood behind him toweling her hair, no more clinging jeans. She wore a pair of loose fitting sweats and a sweater. In her free hand, she held a sweatshirt and another towel. “She’s not usually so trusting of strangers.”

“Guess I know how to make her purr.” He smiled at Zee as he put the cat down onto an overstuffed polka-dot chair.

“Oh, no. Now you’re wet, and covered with hair.”

“No worries.” He reached back, grabbed his shirt and pulled if off in one move. Zee handed him the towel and sweatshirt. She watched as he ran the towel over his arms and chest. Her own towel slipped from her hand. Zee snatched it off the floor and turned away.

Jagger tugged on the sweatshirt. It may have been a men’s garment, but it sure as hell didn’t smell like one. How did sheilas make everything smell so sweet? “You’ve got a nice place here, Zee. It suits you.” He lifted an old chipped tea cup from the top of the bookcase. “You’ve got some interesting things. Rough tea party?”

Zee looked like she wanted to snatch it away from him. “I’ll have you know, that’s a priceless heirloom. It belonged to my Nana.” Zee’s fingers reached out and traced the ragged rim. She was close enough for him to see the coppery threads drying in her hair. “When I was little, we would play grownup and Nana would make us tea and tiny sandwiches. I chose a different cup each time, but Nana always drank from that one. I broke it about five years ago and didn’t have the heart to throw it away, so it’s glued and wouldn’t hold tea if it tried.” Zee took the cup from Jagger. “I should probably get rid of it, but… I like having special things around.”

The cold pinked her cheeks and lips. Why had he promised to “drop and run?”

“Do you like having me around?”

Her eyes flew to his. “What?”

Jagger jerked his head toward the sketches scattered about. “I’ve invaded your space.”

“Oh, right.” She scrambled to tidy up the drawings. “This is just…work.”

He’d flustered her again. Jagger smiled. He liked watching the chinks fall out of her armor. “What’s out there?” He pointed to the dark void beyond a set of sliding doors.

She followed the direction of his gaze. “Oh, that’s just my roof.”

“You have a roof? That’s so cool.”

“Not that cool. It’s really just wasted space.” Zee walked past him, flipped on the exterior light and stood looking out. “Nothing exciting out there.” The rain had started again and splashed in wide puddles on the shining asphalt surface.

“How is the view?” He moved to her side.

Zee shrugged. “Just more roofs, but with the leaves off the trees you can make out a tiny bit of Highland Lake. We’re two stories taller than most of the old mill buildings around here.”

“It must be great to lie out and sun bake. I’m thinking you, me, and nothing but a bottle of suntan oil.” He winked at her.

Zee reached to shut off the light. She looked up into his eyes. If she just took a tiny step closer, all he’d have to do is tip her chin. She chewed her lip. “I’m never sure if you’re teasing me or if you really—”

“I’m not teasing.”

Zee shook her head and stepped away. “Trust me. You don’t want me. You don’t even know me.” She gathered up a few more drawings. “We have nothing in common other than class.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “I mean, you—you’re adventurous. Carefree. You’re every color on the wheel.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m fussy and neurotic. I’m every shade of beige. You’re Paris and the Riviera. I’m Stoddard, New Hampshire.”

“I like Stoddard.” He reached out and tugged on a coppery curl. He shook his head. “Look around, you’re anything but beige.”

“Don’t let the couch fool you. I am. It’s the truth. I’m flattered you want to spend time with me, take me to lunch, lie in the sun, but I’m not that girl. I’m an uptight workaholic painter who wouldn’t know carefree if it bit her.”

“I don’t bite.” Jagger raised an eyebrow. “Not hard.”

“Jagger, please.”

“I understand. I’m just work.”

“Yes. No. You make it sound so cold. I like you, I do. You’re fun and sweet and kind. You saved me tonight, and I am so grateful. I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“Zee, I get it. But I think you’re beautiful and drop-dead sexy. I’m not asking for a white dress and a mortgage here. I’m asking for a couple of months of getting to know you better. Share a meal or two. Take in a movie. Spend some time with you. No pressure. No strings. Easy.”

“And you could do that? Keep it easy?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m standing here thinking about spreading oil all over your body. I’m a red-blooded male after all, but if you want to keep things simple, I’ll sign up for that. I won’t stop wanting you in my bed, and I won’t promise not to try to change your mind. But I’ll play by your rules.” He handed her back her towel. “So, it’s up to you. Think about it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Zee looked at him in surprise. “Oh, okay.” Had she expected him to push things? He heard Leah when she told him to take things slow. If he ever wanted to have Zee, he’d do it her way even if it was killing him not to find out what kissing that mouth felt like. What it was like to hold her and push his hand into that spicy hair and taste her lips.
Slow. Easy.
He needed to get out of there before he forgot the meaning of the words.

“I’ll be back around eight and we’ll get George straightened out.” He zipped the sweatshirt up tight and moved to leave.

“Jagger.”
Dammit girl, you’re making this tough
. She was smiling. The dimple was back. “Thank you. For everything. Really.” She handed him back his damp fleece jacket.

“I couldn’t leave you stranded in the rain, lovey.”

“Yes, for that, and for sharing your father with me. I never knew mine. Zee shrugged. “Your da sounds like he was a fine man.”

“He was.” Jagger hooked a thumb into his pocket to keep from reaching out to her. “I was right, too.” He put a hand on the doorknob. “He would have liked you a lot. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chapter Fifteen

Next morning Zee was up, dressed, and ready to go before seven. She’d walk down to meet Jagger. No sense in him climbing five flights.

Just the thought of him coming over made Zee’s heart skip.
I won’t stop wanting you in my bed.
His honesty last night threw her. It certainly made his intentions crystal clear. Her feelings were equally clear—clear as mud!

At 7:50 there was a knock on the door. Zee flew to open it.

“I was just coming down. You didn’t need to climb all—Ed. What the hell are you doing here?”
Damn Mrs. Oglethorpe!

His polo shirt was blinding white and he smelled of too much Brut cologne. “I’m being nice. Isn’t that what you wanted? I saw your shit-box sitting in the school parking lot last night. I figured I’d come by and see if you needed help.”

“How do you know it’s been there all night?”

“So suspicious. I was coming home late, and I saw the heap.”

A nagging feeling told Zee he was lying, but arguing with him wasn’t something she planned on this morning. “Well, I don’t need your help, thank you anyway.”

“How did you get home?”

“A friend. In fact, I’m waiting for them now. We’re heading back to see about the car.”

Ed laughed. “Does this
friend
own a tow truck?”

“No, they don’t, but if we need one, I’m sure we can handle it. I’ve got to ask you to leave, though. I have to finish getting ready. I don’t want to keep them waiting.” Zee tried to close the door.

Ed’s hand shot out and stopped it from closing. “So what’s wrong with it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Then how can you fix it?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Why don’t you just admit it? I’m right about your junker. I can fix the damn thing. Face it, you need me.”

“No, I don’t need anything. Not from you, Ed. You have to leave.”

His hand held fast to the door. “Do you always have to be the single most aggravating bitch on the planet? Are you that mule-ass stubborn or just plain stupid? I came all the way over here—”

“Zee, darlin’, if you’re done with this bloke, we should be going.”

Ed spun around at the sound of Jagger’s voice.

Relief and something else washed over Zee. “Oh. You’re here.”
Bless you, Mrs. Oglethorpe!
Mrs. O. was giving her whiplash.