The Lottery (8 page)

“Whatever. If I own you then why not leave for a while longer. Do
what you want. I’m busy up here painting anyway and you are disturbing me, so I
would appreciate the peace and quiet after the events of this morning.” She
moved back to the painting, her back to him.

“
So
sorry. I would hate
to be a
bother
.”

Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind and she raced back to the
metal rail. “Hey, if I own you, and I can tell you to do anything,” she called
down to him as he was resting one strong hand on the handle to the sliding
door.

“Just about anything.” He turned back to her with a slight frown furrowing
his brow.

“Okay, then. Just leave. Don’t come back.” It couldn’t be that
simple could it? Nothing in her life ever was, but she paused in her work,
hoping that his response would be her salvation from this larger than life
problem.

Eyes opened wide in shock, he stood before the door, looking up
at her. His lips moved silently, no words came but she thought she saw the
mental gears shifting. “I’m contracted to be here a year. I’d be in breech if I
left and never came back.”

With that, he slid open the door and walked through, slamming it
on his way out.

****

Bailey was propped up on pillows, trying to feed herself the
pitiful looking hospital food when Ethan walked in. He sat down along the edge
of her bed and easily pried the spoon from her fingers.

“I’m not a child, Ethan. I really can feed myself. You may have
to do this after the surgery, and will get tired of it.”

“You look like you don’t have the energy to do so. Just let me
pamper you a bit, it will make me feel better.”

“Only if you promise to tell me about the woman.”

“What woman?”

Bailey rolled her eyes and smiled. “You know what woman. You can
feed me if you tell me all about the person you are going to spend the next
year with. I just want to know you aren’t going through Hell for me.”

Scooping up a load of broth, Ethan moved the spoon towards her
mouth, thinking of what he could say to put Bailey at ease. “She is a painter,
a pretty good one, not that my opinion counts. She lives in a loft that has a
studio and only one bedroom. She has paint all over her clothes and in her
hair.”

“And?”

“And what?” Another scoop headed towards her mouth, Ethan trying
to not spill the contents of the spoon all over her. She refused it, looking
him squarely in the eye. “And there has to be more. What does she look like,
how old is she, is she nice? Tell me everything.”

As she finally took the bite of food, he sighed. “Honestly
Bailey, I really haven’t spent a whole lot of time with her yet. She looked
surprised for me to even be there, which seemed odd. And then, when I suggested
we share the only bed, she freaked and let me have the room saying she was
going to take the couch. Once she showed me the room, she took off and started
painting. That’s where I left her. And to top it off, she told me when I left
to come see you, to not come back.”

“That
is
odd. Why would
a woman spend that much on a ticket and then act so strange when she won? It’s
completely pointless. I assumed she would throw herself at you.”

“I was expecting pretty much the same.”

“Maybe she is one of those crazy drama types who get off on
fighting and then making up. What do you think?”

“Geez, Bailey, you must be feeling better if you are needling me
this much.” He smiled at her, and she returned it. Seeing a little bit of her
fire returning, in her gestures, her actions, and even her barrage of
questions, the sparkle in her eyes he had always loved was visible and gave him
hope. This surgery had to work. It just had to.

“The neural transference is actually helping a little. Dr. Reding
said it would make me feel a little stronger as some of the pathways were being
redirected away from the damaged tissues. Which will help me get through the
surgery, as well. So, while I am feeling good and strong, tell me what I wanna
know, or I may have to kick your butt.”

“Okay, okay. She’s about my age, maybe a couple of years in
either direction. Pretty tall for a female, I’d say five foot nine or ten. Blonde
hair, pulled back in a ponytail, sloppy paint covered clothes that were so
baggy I couldn’t tell anything about her body. There, does that make you feel
better? Although I don’t know why you feel the need to know so much.”

“I’m stuck in this awful room, with nothing to do, so I’m being a
little nosey. Why not have her come with you tomorrow so I can meet her and
ensure she takes care of my brother.”

“Ohhhh, no. Not happening. I am not allowing her into my private
life. I am staying completely neutral with this woman. The less she knows about
my life, the better.”

Bailey pouted. “I guess I understand. But I hope you reconsider. I
would feel better if I knew her. You know I have always been a good judge of
character, and I would know by meeting her if she was okay.”

“Well, you’ll just have to take my word for it. It will be fine. I
have certainly dealt with worse in the past. I’m a big boy, and I can take care
of myself. I have for a very long time.”

****

Approaching the door to Karlyn’s studio, Ethan paused in front of
it, not knowing what he should do. He was technically living there, but it was
her house. Should he knock or just walk in? Deciding that he might incur her
wrath for bothering her again while she was painting, he let himself in.

He looked around the open space, but he didn’t see or hear her
moving about the studio, nor was she in the spacious living area or
kitchenette. Glancing around the room, he realized he loved her sense of style.
As large as it was, it easily could have felt empty and cold. But she filled it
with bright colorful canvases, lots of green plants and eclectic collections of
small statues and other pieces of art.

The large overstuffed couch rested on a beautiful, albeit worn,
Persian rug. It looked comfortable, maybe even more so then the bed, and he
considered the possibility of trading with her. He walked over and flopped down
to test it out, sighing at its comfort. He would definitely have to renegotiate
the sleeping arrangements.

Pushing himself off the comfortable furniture, he walked into the
bedroom, trying to figure out where he should store his bags so they wouldn’t
be in the way. He figured he might have to negotiate some storage space as well
as the use of the couch. Bending down, he rooted around in his bags looking for
the e-reader that held the novel he wanted to start reading; he might as well
waste time as he waited for Karlyn.

Suddenly, a door opened and a little steam escaped. A naked and
wet Karlyn stepped through the fog, toweling her hair. He stopped in his tracks
as he perused her body, realizing immediately that maybe this wouldn’t be so
bad after all. Her body was curvy, a real woman’s body, and her breasts were
large and swayed seductively as she moved, obviously natural. Her hips were a
tad wide, but that would allow her to ride him easily. Feeling a stirring in
his loins, he tried to stand and carefully exit before she stopped toweling her
hair to avoid embarrassing her.

As he raised himself up, she pulled the towel from her head and
looked him straight in the eyes for the first time. His gut clenched and he
felt as though he was rooted to the floor as he saw her, truly saw her for the
first time, and was lost in her pale blue eyes. They were the most beautiful
eyes he had ever seen. Fierce need swirled through him, a need to claim her in
a base way, to make her his own. Seeing his own need reflected back at him, as
well as a touch of sadness, it touched his very soul. Trapped in that moment, he
just stared in shock at her for several moments.

Karlyn quickly covered herself with the towel in her hand, as if
she finally realized her immodesty. “Damn it, man, couldn’t you have called out
that you were back?”

“I’m
sorry
, I was
afraid I would get
yelled
at again
for bothering your work, so I let myself back in quietly.” He snapped a little
too quickly, taking offense to her sharp tone. She stiffened at his sarcasm,
“Can you please stop staring at me and give me enough privacy so I can get
dressed?”

Thankful for the e-reader in his hands, he lowered it to hide his
burgeoning erection. Still ensnared in her eyes, he finally relented and just
smiled at her as he squinted his eyes, walking backwards from the room. “I wish
I could stop looking.”

Chapter Seven

 
Why did he become an angry
little beast every time he was around her? It wasn’t her fault that his sister
was sick. It wasn’t her fault that they needed this money desperately. It
wasn’t her fault Ophelia had had him blacklisted. The actor in him had
evidently died off in the four years he was out of the practice of pleasuring a
woman. He needed to find that part of him and woo her like he was being paid to
do. But every time he got near her, it seemed anger prevailed.

He needed to find the middle ground, he could not get emotionally
involved, one way or the other. This anger that kept surfacing, was he using
her as a scapegoat? But she was not Ophelia and did not deserve the wrath he
had saved for that woman. And Karlyn’s underwhelming response to winning him
made his ire lessen. She had made it apparent that she didn’t want him there.

But the year was just beginning. He knew she would eventually show
her hand and he would see what she was really up to. No one spent the kind of
money on a lottery ticket only to throw the prize out the door. It didn’t make
any sense. For now, he would work on being nicer to the woman, if that was
possible, until he saw the side of her he thought existed somewhere under that
paint coated exterior.

****

“Sam showed me some of your art when we were there for the dinner
party. I was enthralled by the piece of
Times Square
.
The life, the energy, the fire, it is remarkable work,” said her smiling, new
client on the vid screen.

Karlyn blushed a bit, not used to such high praise. She nodded at
the woman. “Thank you very much, Miss Paul.”

“Oh, psshh, call me Michelle. We are designing a new community
center uptown, and I would like to add some of your cityscapes to the walls. We
open in about three months, so would there be enough time to get four to five
large paintings?”

“Four?”
FOUR OR FIVE? Remind
me to kiss Sam later.
“The Times Square painting that you enjoyed has two
sisters, one of Broadway and another of
Greenwich Village
.”
Pulling them into view, she continued, “And just last week I began a fun
Central Park
piece.” She pulled the tarp off of the
canvas she had started the day of her birthday. It was nearly complete, and
hopefully exactly what was needed.

 
“Breathtaking! I love it. Two
more like those works and we will be in business. I love the
New York
theme you have going on, so I want
that same feeling in the new pieces. Now tell me what your price is for the
complete works. The paintings will be my donation to the center. Your work will
really brighten up the space.”

Karlyn thought over a price, and decided to be a little more
daring in setting it. This may be her chance to break into a new upscale
community and she couldn’t undervalue her work, but she had to be practical as
well. “Five million for the set.” She held her breath, scared the woman might
laugh at her.

Without batting an eye the woman answered. “Done. Give me a
banking IP address, and I will transfer you half now. Upon completion, I’ll
give you the rest.”

Karlyn let out the breath she had been holding. She couldn’t
believe it had been that easy.
Heck,
maybe I should have asked for more as easily as the woman agreed.
She gave
Michelle the banking information and pressed her thumb to the screen to
authorize the transfer. Two and a half million dollars immediately flowed into
her nearly bare account. It would be enough to pay six months mortgage and
hopefully cover the cost of food and supplies for herself and her new roomie.
When she was through, she should be in decent shape. She had a couple of
smaller jobs planned, but nothing of this magnitude. But between them all, she
was sure that she could probably survive the next year financially intact.

Once she finished up the transaction, she slipped down the stairs
gleefully, excited about this new opportunity. Her stomach rumbled, reminding
her she had skipped breakfast, and it was well past dinner time. Once she
reached the bottom, she spied Ethan cooking in the kitchenette. She had
detected a delectable aroma as she came down, but as she approached the smell
became even stronger, making her mouth water.

His back was to her, and as she walked into the kitchenette area,
she grasped the handle of the fridge unit and peered inside. She really didn’t
want to occupy the same space with him, but she was tired after a long day, and
she would grab something quick and snuggle into the couch for some much needed
rest.

“Hungry?”

Karlyn peered over the door at him. “Yes, that’s usually why
someone looks in the fridge unit. I haven’t eaten all day.”

“I suspected as much, and I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but it
sounded like you were conducting business upstairs, and you were painting all afternoon.
I figured I’d start us something for dinner since you were busy.”

“Us?”

“Yes, for both of us.”

 
“Why would you be nice all
of a sudden after showing me you have been inconceivably rude all day? The food
isn’t poisoned is it?”

His brows furrowed as he looked down into the pan, and she
thought she saw anger in the way he began pushing the food around it, but then
he flashed her a ten kilowatt smile, discrediting her initial reaction. “Well,
since
we
both have to eat, and there
is no one here to cook our meals, and since you obviously have been too occupied
to start something yourself, one of us had to cook. Should I have poisoned it?”