Villa Blue (13 page)

They scurried around, her mind ablaze with details. Wrap frames in blankets—thankfully they had a couple of extra blankets at the ready—grab stash of supplies including a hammer, nails, tape measure, a level, and extra wire just in case.

When she realized she hadn’t completely dressed, only made it as far as her pants and bra, she slipped on her shirt that’d been cast aside, and swirled her hair into its usual topknot to get it off her face.

He retrieved a shirt from his room in the villa then drove the golf cart down the scraggly trail to her studio. Together they loaded her supply bag and four paintings.

She crouched onto the seat since the frames wrapped in blankets were propped on the floorboard. “Whatever you do, drive really slowly and don’t hit any bumps if you can help it. I really hate being late. It’s unprofessional and I hate that.”

Before pulling away, he glanced over at her. “We’re not going to be late. We’ll be exactly on time. Breathe.”

“I’ll breathe once I hang these, then paint—God—six more paintings in the next two weeks, then that will make fifteen.” She massaged her temples as she spoke. “I really should’ve been done with those paintings by now.”

“Five orgasms and fifteen paintings. At least we have goals,” he told her as they started down hill.

She didn’t want to chuckle but she couldn’t help it. “Fifteen orgasms and five paintings might be an easier goal to achieve.”

At his pained face she laughed again, feeling the knots inside of her loosen. “I’m suddenly feeling inspired,” she said with a conspirators sparkle in her eyes.

Chapter Nine

Klem was there, waiting in the gallery as he said he would, wearing pressed salmon colored pants, a navy blue polo shirt, and a belt that featured a row of hand-stitched sand crabs.

His head tilted to the side as he watched Aiden and Ivy carry in the art she’d promised.

“Sorry we’re late, Klem.” Ivy lugged in the largest of the paintings, having elbowed Aiden aside when he’d tried to take it from her.

“You’re not late, hun. But you are wearing yesterday’s clothes and you have some sort of… What is that? A weed? You have a weed in your hair, honey.”

“I’m an artist. I do weird things like decorate my hair with weeds,” she said offhandedly as she slipped outside then carried in the next painting.

Aiden held the door open then carted in the last two pieces.

“You’re the most normal artist I know. And the luckiest. He’s
sexy
,” Klem whispered loudly, proud to be in what he considered
the know
.

She glanced around at the space, the surrounding art, figuring out where she wanted each of the pieces.

“So how was it?”

“How was what?”

“Sex with Mister Sexy Man.”

She spared Klem a quick fleck of her attention. “You insulted me by calling me normal. Normal is boring. No details for you.”

Immune to the rebuff, Klem didn’t budge from his lean on the front counter—it was too entertaining to watch Aiden muscle paintings to where Ivy pointed, then bend down, pick them up, and move them again. This was better than that extra hour of sleep he could’ve had, he decided. Way better.

“What do you think of this arrangement? I think if we put this one here on that wall, it’s a good opener. It has striking colors, cliffs. Dramatic so it grabs your eye as you’re walking by outside. What do you think?” Ivy asked aloud, primarily talking to herself, though Aiden stood next to her, and Klem, happy to be near Aiden, joined.

“Or,” she continued, brow tensed as she studied the art, the walls, the space on a whole. “We could put the softer scene, this one with the wildflowers from early spring, over here. I guess this might be more inviting for people. What do you think?” she asked again.

“How about this one? I like the waterfall and all that green around it. A lot of life to it. Is that somewhere here on the island?”

She nodded without looking at Aiden, her mind on its own track. “West side of the island, yeah,” she mumbled. “Okay, I like your idea, maybe we put that one up front. It has a good island vacation kind of feel to it. Klem?”

“Aiden’s not only mouth-watering, but he’s smart as well.”

“Still straight,” Aiden told him with a friendly smirk.

Klem followed with a quick, “Damn,” then strode away to nab coffee from the back room.

“All right, I like that. Good idea. Let’s hang the waterfall first, then
Sailboats at Sunrise
, then on that wall over there…” She gestured, pointing through the air. “We’ll put the wildflowers then the bold cliffs,” she finished then thought about it.

“No, that’s wrong. Waterfall then wildflowers on these two walls, then…” She trailed off even though her hands still made the motion she was meaning.

“Sailboats then cliffs?” Aiden finished.

“Yeah, that’s good.” She sucked in an inhale then let it out with a readying push. “Okay, let’s do this.”

After hanging all four of the paintings, she stood back and studied them one last time before Klem flipped the sign around for opening time.

“Look okay?” she asked the two men who stood behind her. Her mind had honed into that place of productivity and creativity. Hanging her art, her work, made her feel rooted, especially after spending the early morning soaring with a man arguably still considered a stranger.

Not wanting to focus on Aiden—she could do that later—she answered herself as she hadn’t heard either of the men’s responses. “Yes, I like it. Just like this.”

Ivy reached into her supply bag and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here’s a price sheet I worked up.” She handed it to Klem. “Let me know if you need anything else and thank you so much. I really appreciate it. I’m not sure if I say it enough, but I truly am grateful that you guys feature my art here. You’ve been so good to me.” Her eyes swam with soft sentimentality.

“You going to cry, honey?” Klem asked.

“I’m just appreciative. And tired.”

“Sex will do that.”

“Jesus, Klem.”

“Call it like I see it. Not that I saw it but—”

“Bye, Klem!” Ivy interrupted before he could say anymore, kissed his cheek.

“See you, man,” Aiden added then held the door for Ivy to walk through.

Klem fanned himself. “Damn that’s one sexy beast.” Then he lowered his voice and set his face in what he considered a cool-guy look, mimicking Aiden. “See you, man.”

“Breakfast?”

Ivy frowned at Aiden as she climbed into the golf cart. “Did you say something? Sorry, I was in a zone.”

“I can see that. That’s not our cart.”

She glanced around, confused, then got out. “Guess I really was in a zone.”

“What were you thinking about?” He reached for her hand, figuring he wouldn’t wait for a response on breakfast, and simply walked her toward the rich scents of morning food that rode alongside the swirls of sea air.

“Oh, I was in my imagination. I was thinking about the waterfall. I was actually thinking, well,
seeing
I guess, how I’d do the next painting there. I think I’ll tape off the water area of the painting then paint around it, so then the water will be clean white after taking the tape off. Kind of a crisp, refreshing feeling. Then the trees crowding in around it... Wait, where are we going?”

“Breakfast,” he told her as they continued down the promenade. “What will you do with the trees?” he asked before she could think too much about it and decide she wanted to get back to work before eating.

He was starting to understand her, he thought. Pleased with the idea, he spotted the restaurant where the smells of bacon and hash browns originated, and kept ahold of her hand, clasping her fingers with his.

“This place has great omelets. You should eat here, but I really need to get to work.”

He gave himself points for having anticipated her.

Aiden stopped outside the restaurant, faced her. “Let’s eat breakfast then we’ll go back to the villa, grab bathing suits, then you take the day off and we’ll head to the waterfall together.”

“No, definitely not. Not only do I need to make sure I work for at least eight hours today, I have to figure out what to do about my mother and sister being here. I don’t have time.”

He watched her begin to fidget, knowing he had her right where he wanted her. “Then at least have breakfast while you figure out what to do with your day. That way you won’t have to stop later to eat.”

“Hmm. That’s actually a good idea. Okay, I can’t take the day off, but I guess I can do breakfast.” She walked in through the door he held open then pivoted, poked a finger in his chest. “Hey, wait. You tricked me.”

He winked at her and strode toward the hostess stand.

“You’re a tricky one.” Ivy told him as they slid into a booth that overlooked the harbor. “Distract me with a big ticket item then easily sell the little item. You’re a sneaky businessman, Aiden James.”

“I’m a man who wants some breakfast. And coffee.”

“Oh God, coffee, yes.”

The hostess overheard and brought over two fat white mugs filled with coffee. “Your waitress will be right here.”

“Thank you,” she said to the girl then looked to Aiden. “And thank you for this morning. I couldn’t have done it without you. Well, I could have, but it would’ve been a lot harder, taken a lot longer by myself.”

He drank from his coffee then leaned back in the booth, taking in the view of the woman and the water behind her. “You’re welcome. Sex is more fun than masturbating.”

Closing her eyes, she held in the hot gulp of coffee, using great restraint to swallow and prevent it from spraying out of her mouth.

“You all right there?” he asked playfully.

Finally able to laugh without spitting out her coffee, she opened her eyes. “You’re right about that. Usually. And I was talking about your help at the gallery—getting the paintings together, getting them hung. That was really kind of you.”

“Glad I was here to help.” He frowned as he said it and glanced up to see her looking out to the boats that swayed with the waves. She would’ve told him his face had changed again because this time he felt it. He was glad he was there to help, but something about the statement sounded so temporary.

He liked temporary, fleeting fun, spontaneous adventures that featured no ties to anyone, anywhere. He liked going places, doing things, meeting people without being held to one location. He’d built his life around his desire for freedom.

Reminding himself of that felt hollow somehow. Empty. What exactly did he want to be free of?

“What can I get you two kids?” the waitress with curly gray hair, purple eye shadow, and a series of miniature bells around her wrist asked.

What the hell
did
he want? He’d always known the answer to that but his mind tripped on something.

The phone in his pocket rang and he pulled it out as Ivy began her order.

“I’ve got to take this. Order for me? I don’t care what it is, whatever you pick is great.”

Before she could ask him if there was anything he didn’t like, he’d already slipped out of the booth and was headed toward the door.

Ivy exchanged a look with the waitress. “What would you order for him?”

“What kind of food does the man like? Steak and eggs? Ham? French toast?”

Ivy glanced at the menu. “I have no clue what he likes. Sweet? Savory?”

“Well he likes you. You can tell by the way a man looks at you, and he looks at you like, well, like he’s looking into your
soul
, you know?” The waitress jingled the bells around her wrist.

Ivy took a moment, considered the woman’s words, then dismissed them as lightheartedly silly, and continued. “In that case, I guess I should know what the man eats then, shouldn’t I?”

“How long have you two been in love?”

Ivy coughed out a stunned chuckle. “Oh we’re not… We’re just…”

The waitress patted Ivy on the shoulder. “Just go with the bacon and cheddar omelet. It’s a safe bet. Men like bacon and cheese.”

Ivy grinned humbly, her insides having jumped into a tizzy. “That’s perfect.”

“Coming up,” the waitress announced then wandered off, jingling with every step.

Scanning the maze of boats moored in the harbor for the weekend—the tidy white shapes floating in dark blue waters, all beneath a leisurely pastel sky—Ivy tried to distract herself with images but it only served to fuel the flutter, illuminating what the waitress had said.

The man had been inside of her. She’d felt his power, his presence in his movements within her, hadn’t she? But it certainly wasn’t love. She may have little dating experience, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think sex was anything more than just that. Sex.

Even so, she wondered what the waitress had seen. She prided herself on being observant, understanding, having a keen eye. But she’d just boarded the wrong golf cart hadn’t she? What else had she missed?

Not that it mattered; he was a guest visiting Villa Blue, a man on a business trip. And wasn’t it strange that he couldn’t tell her what business, exactly, that he was there for? He didn’t seem terribly focused on it. Or maybe it was effortless and she just hadn’t noticed.

Effortless, she thought again. She did paint so much more freely when effort stopped and something else entirely took over. Maybe he was the same way. Or maybe she was just focused on her own work so she hadn’t seen his.

Or, she thought as she poured another brown packet of raw sugar into her coffee, maybe he was a spy. Maybe he was there for covert reasons, a real hush-hush scenario, she decided, amused. He did have a look about him that made him appear as though he could belong anywhere.

She entertained herself by envisioning him running down streets in Istanbul, hiding in pockets of cafes in Paris, descending from ceilings in high-tech banks to catch crooks in Hong Kong.

She loved living in her imagination. It had been her sanctuary throughout childhood, through the first dash of adulthood, and now, wasn’t it nice to share it with someone? Even if it was only for a small, single scoop of time.

And when she began to imagine a scoop of time in the flavor of mint chocolate chip, she decided she was glad they’d stopped for food. Her brain was getting loopy.

“Sorry about that.” Aiden scooted back into the booth.

“No problem. I amused myself by imagining you as a spy.”

His eyebrows raised above eyes that’d gone from bottle green to a dusky moss color. “A spy, huh?”

“What’s wrong?”

He scrubbed his hands on his face that was rough from not having shaved. “Nothing, just business.”