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“I…” She looked down at his hands. She put one hand over his.
“I want to spend the rest of the day…and tonight with you. Don’t brush me off, Paris. We …we could just talk.”
She laughed. “Like we’re going to do just that. Dan…I…this may be moving too fast for me.”
“Says the girl who loves speed.” Lifting her hand, he toyed with her fingers. “Tell you what, we’ll build a huge fire, get out some whisky—the good stuff, not your dad’s. It is getting cold at night. We’ll sit and watch a movie. That work for you?”
“Give me two hours to get my work done and you’re on. That’ll give you and Michael time to cut some woods.” She kissed his cheek—and Dominic gave a groan. The things he was doing for this woman!
Chapter Eleven
Two hours barely gave Dominic enough time to soak in the tub after Michael finished teaching him how to split wood. He’d used muscles he’d never thought he’d had. And Michael had rolled his eyes over Dominic’s lack of skills with an axe.
“Pansy artist,” Michael had muttered loud enough for Dominic to hear.
“Hillbilly redneck,” Dominic muttered back. Michael had grinned and they’d gone on to swap insults.
Thankfully, after an hour, Michael deemed they had enough wood—and he had to get dinner cooking. Dominic went to his room to clean up. He soaked, changed into a dark blue sweater and loose sweats. He wasn’t up to tight jeans tonight, or anything fancy. He slipped on a pair of Italian loafers. They looked too pricy for an artist, but they were damn comfortable.
Coming downstairs he found Paris in the main lounge, set up with something that smelled great, a big screen TV and an array of DVDs. “I didn’t know what you liked.”
Dominic spread his hands. “I’m a guy right, so anything with cars or explosions is good.”
“How do you feel about sheep and English lawns?”
They argued over film choices and finally settled on a comedy—an older movie. Paris put it in and Dominic served up soup into the bowls. He cut into the crusty bread, and spread butter lavishly on it—after cutting wood, he felt like he’d earned the calories.
Once Paris had the movie going, she curled up on the leather couch next to him. He handed her one bowl and bread. She sat with her hair curling damp around her face—she’d washed too, and she smelled like flowers and like her soap. Dominic watched her instead of the show.
Her face came alive as she watched—she showed every emotion. Tension, laughter, a hint of tears at the sappy ending. She watched like a kid, totally involved in the show and the moment. He envied her that gift.
Turning to him, she put a hand on his thigh. “Popcorn—and now you can get your movie with cars and big bangs.”
“Sounds perfect to me.”
She came back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of whisky. Macallan’s. He lifted his eyebrows when he saw the label. “Your private stock?” he asked.
She sat down next to him. She was barefoot, in jeans and a ratty sweatshirt. She grinned. “You bet.” Pouring two glasses she handed him one and clinked her glass against his. “Bottom’s up.”
“Uh…aren’t we supposed to drink to something more than bottoms? Not that I’m not a fan of yours.”
Her cheeks pinked. “Okay, what do we drink to? I know—to your art!”
He touched his glass to hers. “To getting what our heart truly desires.”
She smiled at him. “Poet, too? You never told me what you paint. Landscapes? Modern stuff? Abstract.”
“Portraits. I generally sketch naked.” Her cheeks pinked again. He liked that he could make her blush. “That means I’m naked not my subject.”
She laughed and batted at his arm. “You’re teasing me.”
“I am. And…uh, yeah, I do very modern stuff.”
She nodded. “As long as it’s not soup cans. Or a solid black with a red dot i
n the center. I saw that once in a magazine—some rich guy named Dominic McCarthy paid like two million for it.” Dominic almost choked on his whisky. He knew the painting. The artist had a great reputation and Dominic had bought the painting as soon as it came up for sale. It had already appreciated fifty percent. He coughed and Paris pounded his back. “You okay?” she asked.
Throat burning, he nodded. “Went down the wrong pipe. What about that second movie?”
