Sculpting Rose (2 page)

He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek, then murmured, “I’m glad. I’d hate this to be all one-sided.”

Rose swallowed around a lump in her throat, then without another word, he led the way out of the huge elaborate party hall. They moved quickly down the large marble steps to his car. He let go of her hand while he put her into his black Jaguar, then took hold of her again after he was behind the wheel and on the road.

She liked his hand. It was big and strong. Secure.
Rose glanced over at him, wondering what he was thinking. In the darkness, she swore she saw him smile. It was a feral and wicked expression, and her stomach jumped.

This was either going to be the biggest mistake of her life, or the most exciting thing she’d ever done.

Chapter Two

He’d taken her to a bar? Stranger still, Rose was actually having fun. With a man no less! That hadn’t happened in a very long time. To top it off, he seemed to be somewhat enraptured by her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, or him.

They were in a little dive of a place on the other side of town. He must have been a frequent customer, because he knew the bartender by name and asked for his usual, which, as it turned out, was a light beer. She ordered the same, and they sat at a little booth. She didn’t need to look around to know the patrons were staring at her. She was one of the few women in the place who wasn’t wearing jeans and a T-shirt. She must have stuck out like a sore thumb in her expensive black dress. Not that it mattered, she was just glad to be out with a man who wasn’t belittling her. Besides, after being alone for the past seven months, it was way past time for some excitement. She’d damn well earned it.

As Rose sipped her cold beer, she had the feeling Colin was thinking about her, and his thoughts weren’t pure in nature either. Then again, Colin McQuaid was no angel. Anyone could see that by his art.

His intense blue eyes focused on her as if she were the only person in the room. It was a thrilling notion. What would it be like to make love to someone like him?
Pure heaven, no doubt.

Rose
imagined a candlelit room where the only piece of furniture was an enormous cherry wood four-poster bed. They would both be nude. In his strong, callused hands, he held a leather whip and multicolored silk scarves. He’d approach the bed, she’d be sprawled out for him, and he’d use the scarves to secure her. Then he’d drag the soft leather over her skin, making her eager and nervous at the same time.

She shook her head and forced her mind back to reality. Who was she trying to kid? Her one relationship had ended up in an engagement, then one year later a break up. It’d been a mediocre relationship that had led to a bitter end. What did she know about sexual delights?

She stopped her mental musings and looked across the table, then realized she wasn’t being a very good date. Colin’s gaze was warm, tender, and she wondered what he was thinking in that moment.

“So, Mr.
McQuaid, what made you want to leave a party being held in your honor?” She propped her head on her fist. “I should think you’d want to celebrate.”

“I am celebrating.
With you.” He winked and Rose nearly melted. “And please, call me Colin.” He stroked his thumb across the back of her hand, the hand he still hadn’t surrendered.

“So, what brought you to my party,
Rose?”

He said her name like a caress, and
Rose had to remind herself to breathe. She looked down at the table, mesmerized at the feel of his thumb stroking over her palm. Once more Rose wondered what it would be like to have him touching more than her hand. She blinked and looked back up at him and realized he’d asked her a question.

“Margaret, the woman I came with, insists I need to get out more. Plus, I admit I was a little curious about the man behind the statues.” She felt her face heat. To hide her embarrassment she took a sip of her beer.

“Well, I’m very glad Margaret insisted,” Colin murmured. “The party was pretty boring until I saw you.” Colin’s fingers drifted over the inside of her wrist, and she shivered. “Tell me, Rose, what do you think of my work?”

His manner might have been polite, but
Rose had the feeling he could be very demanding. “I think what you do is very impressive. I enjoy the flowing lines and curves of your statues.” She frowned, thinking of the focus of his work. “You sculpt people in such intimate positions. Why erotic art? Why not something less X-rated?” She was curious to know where he got his inspiration. His smile was intimate, and it affected her as nothing else ever had.

“It fascinates me. Men and women making love in passionate ways is a joy to create.” His voice dropped an octave. “Women are interesting creatures in and of themselves. You have the joy of procreation.
To bring another life into the world. I don’t see it X-rated to sculpt such an extraordinary thing. Without love, without passion, where would we be? We need it, as badly as we need water. Passion is what makes us good at our job. It makes us good at what’s important. To me the nude form, be it male or female, is beauty. Pure and simple. Thankfully Marie, my agent, feels the same way.” Then he angled his head slightly and asked, “Do you find making love vulgar, Rose? Does the nude form put you off or is it a thing to cherish?”

She was speechless. He was so fervent about his work, so deep. She had no idea.
Rose sat up a little straighter. “I find making love an intimate thing, to be shared between two people deeply in love. That love should be handled with care. Otherwise, someone invariably gets hurt.”

He was quiet for a moment as if absorbing her words; then he asked, “Has someone hurt you,
Rose?”

His question put her on the defensive. “Hasn’t everyone been hurt a time or two? It happens. You move on.”

“Yes, it happens, but that doesn’t make it any less harmful.” Colin’s face hardened. “You don’t deserve to be hurt. You deserve to be cherished. Like my statues, you have beauty in you.” He paused and then, “I’d like to sculpt you.” Rose’s eyes widened, but Colin only smiled. “Would you let me? I want to see your passion, Rose.”

She was stunned. “You want me to pose? Nude?”

“I would be honored.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.”

She should have been appalled by the idea. She wasn’t. Famous artist and sculptor
Colin McQuaid wanted her to pose for his next incredible work of art. Well, she had wanted to do something to liven up her life, hadn’t she? This was her chance.

“Yes,”
Rose rushed out. He smiled, and it made her think of a panther who’d just caught dinner. Her insides quivered.

“We’ll start tonight,” he announced, then rose from the booth. After placing some bills on the table, he took her hand, led her out of the bar. Then his words sank in, and she tugged him to a stop.

He turned, a frown creasing his brow. “What?”

“Tonight?”

Colin winked. “I don’t want to wait.” Then he started walking again. She pulled on him once more, and he turned a questioning look her way.

“
Colin, I can’t just go home with you and pose. We’ve only just met!”

Colin
’s gaze darkened. “We may have only just met, Rose, but I felt a connection to you the minute I saw you. If you fear me, don’t. I promise not to do anything to make you uncomfortable. We can go as slow as you like,” he assured.

She was beginning to feel a little silly. “I’m not afraid,” she avowed. “It’s just that…will you want me nude? I don’t think I could do that.”

He reached up and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, then whispered, “We won’t do anything that feels wrong to you, okay?”

She should tell him they could meet sometime during the day, make an appointment for the sittings, or something along those lines. That would be the smart thing to do.
The responsible thing.

“Okay.”

It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. Butterflies played in her stomach. If only her mother and sister were there to see. They’d both have heart failure! Neither of them was used to their spinsterish Rose being spontaneous, or doing
anything
risky for that matter.

Colin
McQuaid placed her once again inside his sexy Jag, and Rose squirmed with a rush of joy. This was bound to be one for the record books.

The bronze statue stood three feet tall on a shiny black pedestal. It depicted a man and woman making love. It was reminiscent of
Colin’s other works. With this one, the man was standing, and he was holding the woman in his lap. She had her legs wrapped around his waist. It was titled: Tortured Heart. Curious name for a pair of lovers.

“They’re obviously in love, why the name?”

“Are they?” Colin’s brow quirked up. “Look again, Rose, and tell me what you see.”

He stared at her, waiting for her answer. She looked back at the statue again.

“The woman’s very tall, very thin. Painfully so. The way her hipbones protrude, it looks agonizing. And her face…” She stopped and stared at the woman’s expression.

“Go on,” he gently urged. “What about her face?”

“She’s…sad, which seems strange to me.”

“Why?”

“Shouldn’t she be excited? Swept away by the sheer joy of it? And her hands.” She narrowed her eyes. “They’re clutching onto him, digging into his flesh. It looks like it would hurt. It’s as if she’s afraid he’ll drop her, but he’s so powerful and strong. She must be as light as air. She’s making love, but…”

“But?”

“It looks like she doesn’t trust him not to drop her.” She looked over at
Colin. “He’s giving her himself completely, but she won’t even give him her trust. He’s the tortured heart.”

Colin
was silent. He stared at her for so long, she was afraid she had offended him. How was she to know what artists were like? Then he grinned, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“What did you know?” He was making her very uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze.

“That you had passion,” he replied simply. “You are the first person to see this sculpture for what it truly is.”

Then he took her into another room.

Colin
’s house was not what she would have expected of such a wealthy man. He seemed to be living below his means while everyone else struggled to live far above theirs. His home, situated well outside of Cleveland, Ohio, was set far off the road on a long, winding gravel driveway. He had total privacy. All anyone would be able to see of it at the road was several hundred feet of trees. They hid his home like a fortress. When the car had inched closer, she was able to see his home wasn’t the mansion she’d envisioned.

It was a sturdy stone and wood two-story with a three-car garage. The wood appeared to be barn siding. It was probably an expensive, treated wood. The house was enchanting with its wraparound porch and privacy. The porch swing stole her heart though. She pictured dozing there on a lazy afternoon, or even cozying up to a good book on a warm summer day.

Rose snatched herself back to the present and concentrated on not smacking into Colin’s back. His strides were much longer than hers, and she was having a hard time keeping up. He walked down a narrow hallway then turned into a room to their right. He flicked a light switch and Rose gasped.

With great cathedral ceilings and a huge wall of windows, the room was breathtaking. At least three times the size of the living room in her apartment. She fell in love with it on sight.

The only light came from a soft muted lamp on an end table. It was difficult to see details. Still, she could make out the gigantic couch situated along the far wall. How could anyone miss
that
? 

She had no idea they even made couches so big. The soft, black suede cushions would swallow her up. The matching chair was nothing to sneeze at either. Then again,
Rose figured a man as big as Colin would need giant-sized furniture.

As her gaze roamed around the room, she spotted a tall wooden stool set directly in front of an artist’s easel. That’s where she would pose. The floor to ceiling windows behind the easel probably gave him wonderful light during the day. Then a thought struck. He’d brought her to his studio. Relief swamped her as she realized he did indeed intend to keep things professional.

Then her eyes caught sight of something that seemed out of place. An octagon-shaped ottoman softly padded. The purple was like a splash of red on a black and white photo it stood out so much. What would he need that for? Different positions maybe?

Before she could ponder the stools uses, the room was flooded in light and a gentle, sexy music filled the air.
Rose quickly forgot about the stool. When she turned, Colin slowly shut the door. A wicked smile played at the corners of his mouth. A wild need to escape his overwhelming presence engulfed her whole being.

***

Colin watched Rose attempt to figure out the ottoman. Since he’d had the thing designed specifically for his own needs, there was no way for her to know its real use. As he pictured Rose spread out on the soft, purple fabric, naked, waiting submissively for him to pleasure her, a fire started up in his loins. He needed to get his body under control or he’d only succeed in scaring her away. That was the last thing he wanted. If he played his cards right, he’d have her open and eager very soon. Ready for anything. He ached for her total surrender. Colin vowed to unlock her hidden passion. Breach all her barriers. One major hurdle was her asshole ex-fiancé.