Picture Me Naked (Stoddard Art School Series) (2 page)

Zee rolled her eyes and stifled a groan. He was tall, but next to Zee, most everyone was. If he wasn’t six foot, he was damn close. His hair was the color of dark honey with sunned streaks of platinum. He wore baggy, torn-at-the-knee jeans and a black tee shirt that hugged the tops of nicely shaped arms. No jacket.
He must be freezing.

Zee tugged on the zipper of her oversized, gray hooded sweatshirt zipping it all the way to the top. She shivered. Hadn’t he read the Stoddard travel brochure? They were in the middle of slush season for goodness sakes. Summer didn’t hit this area until mid July, and lasted about a week. The cockiness of mirrored sunglasses stuck in the neck of his shirt and flip-flops on his feet seemed almost reckless.

Madeline Sullivan, the class’s moderator, greeted him and turned. “Artists, let me introduce Mr. Jagger Jones. He’ll be with us for the next several weeks. Make him feel welcome, shall we? It’s his first time, let’s be gentle.”
Did Madeline just giggle?
“Jagger, there is a men’s room down the hall, third door on the right. You can change there.” She tipped her hand and checked her oversized watch. “We appear to be running a smidge behind schedule this morning, so if you’d like to get us started, we’re ready for you.”

“Won’t be needin’ the men’s room, Maddie, darlin’. Can be naked in a blink of your lovely baby blues.” Jagger smiled, dropped a beaten canvas book bag near the model stage, and kicked off his sandals. Madeline giggled again.

Zee glanced at Leah. She was drooling. “Mmmmm. Yum-mee. Don’t you just love his accent?” Leah whispered. “What a cool name.”

“Charming,” Zee muttered, trying to shut out the Australian lilt. She re-sharpened and organized her already-sharpened, organized pencils. Next to her, she heard Leah gasp and exclaim under her breath, “Mercy.”

Zee slid her gaze back to the model’s dais.
Oh… my...
Flip-flops or not, Mr. Jones was a beautiful example of the male form. His tall frame made his physique long and lean, yet his muscles were chiseled and well-defined. She only had a view of his backside but it was one of the finest backsides Zee had ever seen.

And then Jagger Jones turned around.

Chapter Two

“He looks like a Greek statue, but that ain’t no fig leaf,” Leah whispered.

“Shhh.” Zee forced herself to be professional and remove her gaze from Jagger’s…considerable charms. A warm flush washed over her and pooled in her thighs.
Wow!

“I’m going to need a bigger sketchpad,” murmured Leah.

“Behave yourself,” Zee hissed.

Madeline announced the first groupings were to be five, one-minute poses to warm up.

“I’m plenty warm already,” Leah said under her breath. Her hips did a little sashay.

Zee shot her a look. Leah just smiled and made her eyebrows dance.

Jagger struck one pose after another. In those brief five minutes, it became quite apparent he wasn’t just some pretty face. He was conscious of his body and how best to display it.

Zee worked with quick practiced strokes. After the warm up, they worked at a ten-minute, then a twenty-minute sketch. Jagger’s longer poses continued to impress her. He was good. A timer signaled their first break.

Slipping into his jeans and shirt, Jagger reached into his bag, pulled out an apple and proceeded to munch as he took a stroll about the room looking at all their drawings. Conversation was minimal. Most of the artists were quiet as they continued working.

Zee was unhappy with a line that tried to capture the slight flair of Jagger’s hip before sweeping into the strength of his thigh. She erased it and dropped the line in once more. Using the pad of her ring finger, she smudged the black dust of the charcoal into a blended shadow. She frowned. It still wasn’t quite right.

“G’day ladies.” Jagger voice gave her a start. Zee tucked her chin and kept working.

“Good morning, Jagger. That is such a great name,” Leah gushed like a Vegas fountain.

“Thanks. My mum’s a huge Rollin’ Stones fan. Sis’s name is Mick.”

“Really? That’s wild.”

Zee refused to look, but could imagine Leah batting her eyelashes at Mr. Down Under.

“What do they call you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Leah, Leah Moynihan, and my studious friend here is Zee Lambert.”

“Pleasure to meet you both. Zee, is it now? Is that short for something? Zoey? Zelda? Zena? Like the Warrior Princess?”

“No.” Zee answered the question she’d answered countless times before. She looked up impatiently from her drawing. She’d messed with that one troublesome line so much the sketch was ruined. Frustrated, she crumpled the page in a fist.

The softness of Jagger’s brown eyes halted the snotty response she was about to shoot in his direction. She hadn’t realized how close he was standing. He smiled at her. One corner of his mouth crookedly tipped before the other revealing straight, white teeth. Her breath caught. Wasn’t she going to say something?

“No,” piped Leah, “Her name is Z period, Z period Lambert. Her mom’s a bit eccentric.”

“She was stoned.” Zee threw the crumpled sheet of newsprint into the beat-up metal trashcan next to the sink.

Jagger chuckled. “I know what having a wonky name has done for me.” He leaned forward and got closer to Zee. She could smell the apple on his breath. “Maybe after class you and I should get together. We can make a list of all the crazy names we’ll give our kids.”

“I beg your pardon?” Zee couldn’t tell if he was joking.

Leah almost choked on her coffee. “Go, Jagger.”

“I-I’m busy after class. I booked studio time.”

“Shame.” He took another bite of his apple. Zee couldn’t help but watch his mouth work. It was a great mouth. She had a sudden urge for a Macintosh flavored kiss. One corner of Jagger’s mouth tipped in a smirk. Zee’s eyes shot to his. He’d caught her staring.

He moved a bit closer. “You have a smudge on your cheek, Z. Z. Lambert.”

“Oh.” Zee wiped at her face with the back of her hand. He was too close. Her face blazed. Alarm bells went off in her head. Her stomach felt like a canary in a box.

“Other side.” He smiled at her as she blindly swiped at her face. She was convinced she was only spreading it around and she was seconds away from doing one of those “I’ve walked into a spider web” freak dances. “Here, let me.” He picked a clean rag off her worktable and wiped at her jaw. His eyes held hers and he smiled his crooked smile again.

“Thanks,” whispered Zee. The ten-year-old in her head twittered about never washing that side of her face again.

“You’re welcome.” He winked at her.

Winked? She pictured him clicking his tongue and giving her two thumbs-up. She watched him walk away. Had she really gone all gooey inside for a winker? Next thing you know he’d call her Babe.

She shut up the ten-year-old in her head. Zee’d never listened to her before, anyway. She smothered the canary. What was wrong with her?

Madeline signaled the end of the break, and Jagger stripped off his clothing as he moved back to the model’s dais.

Leah tipped toward her and sing-songed like they were in kindergarten. “He likes you, he likes you.”

“He does not. He was joking around.”

“Then why are you the color of Dorothy’s ruby slippers?”

“I am not!”

****

By the time class ended, Zee had more than a dozen great sketches of the flirty, winking Mr. Jones. After his last pose he thanked everyone, tossed on his clothes, grabbed another apple from his bag and left. Once he was out of earshot, appreciative comments flew from almost everyone.

“I can’t believe you told him you were busy,” chided Leah. “Studio time? Really? Are you crazy?”

“He wanted to pick out weird names for our children.”

“I heard. What a great line.”

“Now who’s crazy? The man winks like that guy on the infomercial selling car wax.”

“So, he winks. The man is beyond steamy. He melted my socks.” Leah puffed. “My Ted is going to be one lucky man tonight.”

“Won’t he be upset to learn it was Jagger Jones that got you all hot and bothered?” asked Zee as she packed her tools away.

“Ted?” Leah chuckled. “Are you kidding? He’s an animal. He’ll be thrilled.” She fiddled with a row of mismatched studs that traced her left ear and gave Zee a sassy look. “Always says he doesn’t care where I get my appetite as long as I come home for dinner.”

Zee laughed and shook her head. “You can have Ted and the tasty Jagger Jones. Haven’t you heard? I’m on a no-man diet.”

“Ted
and
Jagger? Oh, don’t tempt me.” Leah gave a throaty sigh. She fanned herself. “So if men are off the menu, what are you doing Saturday? How about a girl’s night? We haven’t had one of those in forever.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been a lousy friend. It’s only been a few weeks since I broke things off with Ed and he’s still driving me nuts. I’m rotten company. Even little Isabella doesn’t want to hang out with me.”

“It’s bad when your own cat doesn’t want to be with you.”

Zee laughed again. “She should be happy. She hated Ed.”

“Animals are great judges of character. Why are you still moping around, anyway?” Leah continued. “Breaking things off with that bastard was the best move you ever made. Besides, you could not,
could not
end up with a guy with the last name of Zeigler.”

“Mom thinks Z. Z. Zeigler would be a fabulous artist name. Doesn’t realize my initials would be a snore. She still insists Ed is perfect for me. He has a stable job, decent looks, isn’t a Republican, and his moon rises in Leo. After mapping our star charts you would have thought she’d found my soul mate. She thinks all he needs is to have his chakras aligned.”

“He needs something aligned, all right. Did she ever hear his vile mouth?”

“He wasn’t like that at first. Remember when we met him? He was helping with that Christmas toy drive.”

“Yes, I remember. He put a teddy bear in a head lock just before he punched it.”

“He was helping underpriviledged kids.” Zee shrugged. “And he’s always so clean.”

“I’m sorry, did you say clean?” Leah’s eyebrow lifted.

“Haven’t you noticed? How can a man who has his hands in car engines all day stay so spotless?” Zee looked down at her paint-smudged clothing. “Who knew beneath all that clean was so nasty?”

“Clean or not, you’re much better off.” Leah slipped on her cherry-red, down jacket that would have made Zee look like the top of an ice cream sundae. On Leah it looked perfect.

“Maybe he had a few valid points.” Zee was still looking down at her sweatshirt. Her lack of feminine assets was more than obvious. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I mean I’m not perfect either.”

“Why are you defending him?”

“I’m not. All I’m saying is he didn’t get much from his side of the bargain.” Zee shook her head. “You know. I’m no good with all that…that stuff.”

“You can say sex, it’s okay. Besides, you’re being too hard on yourself. All you need to do is—”

“Please.” Zee raised her hand to stop her. “The last time we had this discussion I ended up with stitches. ‘Do something he won’t expect. He’ll love it. Pull down his zipper with your teeth. It’ll make him crazy.’ I got my lip caught in his fly and bled all over him. You were right, though. All that blood made him nuts.” Zee fingered her bottom lip. “I still have the scar.”

Leah put her hand over her own mouth and grimaced. “You can barely see it.”

Zee finished packing up her stuff. “Trust me, from what I’ve learned from my
vast
sexual experience, I’m not missing anything.”

“You’re only saying that because Ed’s got you believing all his crap. You need a
nice
guy. Maybe a sexy, Australian guy? With wavy blond hair and a huge…”

Zee stopped her again. “No, thanks.”

“And you call me crazy.”

“We could still get together and drink wine. I have a box of chillable red in my fridge and a half a dozen Godiva G’s I’m saving for a special occasion. Or my next breakdown.”

Leah laughed. “Cheap wine and expensive chocolates. We could make that work.” She pulled the purple scrunchie from her hair. Zee watched as it fell like a mink waterfall. Okay, so she had hair envy, too. Zee knew better than to “release the beast” of her own hair without a chair and a whip.

“Saturday, then. It’s a date.”

****

Zee moved all her things into one of the school’s private studios on the first floor. Large easels were scattered around the room. In one corner was prop storage that held everything from vases with silk flowers, drapes of velvet and satin, mirrored balls, driftwood, spotlight and light deflectors. You name it. Unfinished sculptures stood wrapped in plastic. Paintings waited to be framed. Works in process awaited their artists.

Today, Zee was finishing a painting of their last model, Georgia. She was lovely woman with rich, lush Rubenesque curves. This painting showed Georgia from the back, reclined, her chin turned to one shoulder. The sweep of her back flared into the fullness of her behind. It was a classic pose with a tapestry pillow tucked at her side and a drape of purple velvet over one leg.

“Very nice,” a low voice said behind her.

Zee’s brush clattered to the floor. When she spun around, Jagger stood watching her from the doorway. “You startled me.”

“Sorry. I’m in search of Madeline’s office.” He held up a handful of papers. “Told me she needed these and I buggered off in such a rush I near forgot.”

Zee picked up her brush and wiped the tip. Evidently she hadn’t killed that canary. His smile was making her stomach flutter. “End of the hall. Can’t miss it.”

“All right then. Good ’nuf.” He nodded toward the painting. “Back to work. Maybe I’ll come back around and watch for a bit. I do fancy a sexy sheila with a fine backside.” His eyes swept over Zee, and he smiled again before continuing down the corridor.

A fine backside? Was he talking about the painting, or her? She ran a hand over one denimed cheek.
He can’t be talking about me.
Zee twisted around and tried to look at her butt before glaring back at the doorway.
Dammit, get a grip. He’s just messing with you.

Zee picked up some more paint on her brush and tried to concentrate on her work again. A few minutes later she sensed him back in the doorway. She didn’t turn around. If he liked her backside so much, he could get a good look. She took a slow, exaggerated bend to retrieve a dropped rag. Two could play this game. She smoothed the back of her jeans as she straightened. “If you’re going to keep interrupting my work to stare at my
fine backside
, the least you could do is strip off your clothes and strike a pose.”