Chesapeake Blue
Page 52

She laughed and pulled away. "I've got to go. It's after midnight. I'll come back here around eight. I'll risk your cooking."
"Great. Hey, do you want me to frame the watercolor for you?"
She beamed at him. "I can have it?"
"That depends. I'm willing to trade a painting for a painting."
"You've already finished the one of me."
"I want another."
She put on her shoes. "You've done two."
"One day, when I'm a dead, famous artist whose work is studied, and the prices of which are ridiculously jacked up, they'll call this my Drusilla period."
"Interesting. If that's what you want as payment, I'll pose again."
"Sunday."
"Yes, fine. Do you know what you're looking for with this one? What you want me to wear?"
"I know exactly what I'm looking for." He walked over, laid his hands on her shoulders and kissed her.
"And you'll be wearing rose petals."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Red rose petals. Seeing as you're a florist, you should be able to get me a supply."
"If you think I'm going to pose wearing nothing but… No."
"You want the watercolor?"
"Not enough to be blackmailed."
She turned away, but he only caught her hand, spun her back. "You admire my work enough to want to own it."
"I admire your work very much, but you're not painting me naked."
"Okay, I'll wear clothes, but you're wearing rose petals. Ssh." He tapped a finger on her lips before she could speak again. "Obviously I'm not having you pose nude so I can get you into bed because I've already gotten you into bed. And for the record, I don't use art that way. I've had this image in my head since the first time I saw you. I have to paint it."
He took her hands. "I need to paint it. But I'll make you a deal."
"What's the deal?"
"I won't show it to anyone. When it's finished, you'll decide what to do with it." He recognized the look on her face—one of mulling and consideration.
And knew he had her.
"I decide?"
"I'll trust you to be honest about it. You have to trust me to paint what I see, what I feel. Deal?"
"Red rose petals." She angled her head. "I'm going to order a lot of them." SETH WALKED whistling into the boatyard the next morning. He carried a box of doughnuts, fresh from the bakery.
Cam was already at work, drilling turnbuckles into a hull.
"She's a beauty," Seth called out as he strolled up to the prettily proportioned yawl. "You guys must've busted tail to get her this close to finished so soon."
"Yeah. She's done except for a little brightwork, some details in the cabin. Client wants to pick her up Sunday."
"Sorry I didn't give you a hand the last couple days."
"We managed."
There wasn't a sting in the tone, but there was the implication of one. "Where's everybody?"
"Phil's upstairs. Ethan and Aubrey are checking crab pots this morning. I've got Kevin coming in after school. Another week or so he'll be sprung, put in more time."
"Sprung? School'll be over already? What the hell day is it?"
"You'd keep up better if you checked in at home once in a while."
"I've been busy, Cam."
"Yeah." Cam set another turnbuckle. "So I hear."
"What're you pissed off about?" Seth tossed the bakery box onto the deck. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"You sashay in and sashay out as the mood strikes you. Decide to come swaggering in today because you finally got lucky last night?"
"What's it to you?"
"What's it to me?" Cam set the drill aside, vaulted down to the floor—a quick blur of aggravated male.
"You want to know what it is to me, you ass**le? It's a hell of a lot to me when you up and disappear for the best part of a week. You go around with some damn black cloud over your head, then hole up in your studio. It's a hell of a lot to me when I have to watch Anna worrying because you can't be bothered to tell us what the f**k's going on. You think you can just walk back in here feeling fine because you finally got Dru's skirt over her head?"
Guilt, which had begun to shimmer, exploded into a red flash of fury. Seth moved before he thought, shoving Cam back against the hull. "Don't talk about her like that. She's not some easy lay I used to scratch an itch. Don't you ever talk about her like that."
Cam knocked Seth back a full step. They were squared off now, nose to nose. Boxers who didn't give a damn about the bell. "You don't treat your family like this. Like a goddamn convenience." Temper was a vicious dog that snapped at both their throats.
"You want to go a round with me?" Cam invited as fists bunched.
"Hold it, hold it. Jesus Christ, hold it!" Phillip all but leaped between them, pushed them apart. "What the hell's going on here? I could hear the two of you all the way upstairs."
"Kid thinks he can take me." Cam replied hotly. "I'm about to let him try."
"Hell you are. You two want to pound on each other, you take it outside. As a matter of fact, Seth, you go. Cool off." Phillip pointed toward the cargo doors and the dock beyond them. "You've been scarce enough around here lately, another few minutes isn't going to matter."
"This is between me and Cam."
"This is a place of business," Phillip corrected. "Our business, so that brings me into it. Keep it up, and the first one to take a punch at you may be me. I had enough aggravation from you."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about keeping promises, remembering your responsibilities. I'm talking about having a client who expects a completed design which you agreed to do. Where the hell is it, Seth?" He opened his mouth, closed it. Drusilla's sloop. He'd forgotten it. Just, he remembered, as he'd forgotten he'd told Anna he'd pick up the mulch she wanted for a new flower bed. And the ride he'd promised Bram in his new car.
As his anger turned inward, he stalked out of the cargo doors.