Chapter 6
Chapter Six
F ifteen minutes later, Nick gazed around the apartment. Taking in the limited size as well as the eclectic mix of furniture and decoration, he satisfied many hours of curiosity about its adorable resident. It suited her.
With one wall painted the reddish-orange of a fall leaf, the room had personality.
He looked closely at three small pastel works framed and hanging on one wall.
They were similar in subject and style—bright details of flowers in a whimsical style that practically moved on the paper.
A fabric tapestry dominated another wall, and above the sofa hung a landscape of rolling hills and colorful sky. No doubt an artist lived here.
He smiled inside. Kat Andrews was such an intriguing surprise.
He knew she came from money, but nothing about the apartment screamed wealth.
Relieved, he glanced back her direction.
Sure, he’d found her attractive when they met at her parents’ house, but tonight…
he felt a tug deep in his gut. She looked like a model, or maybe a ballerina, with her hair swept up in a haphazard fashion that left delicate wisps of honey-colored curls along her beautiful, swan-like neck.
He hadn’t noticed the graceful flow of her neck into her shoulders before.
Tonight, she was stunning in a deep rose dress and textured tights.
The flats she’d worn in Denver were replaced with short boots sporting three-inch heels.
The cute Midwestern girl he’d met earlier had been replaced by a sophisticated city-girl bombshell.
The scooped front of her dress exposed delicate pink flesh, and a row of tiny buttons drew attention to the shadow of cleavage peeking just above them.
He’d hardly been able to do anything but stare at her throughout dinner.
His visual tour of the apartment was interrupted when a large orange tabby appeared at his legs.
“You don’t mind cats, do you?” Kat asked.
“Not at all. Who’s this?”
“Winslow.”
With a chuckle, Nick kneeled to scratch the cat. “Great name. One of my favorite artists.”
“Mine, too,” she told him.
He gestured around the room. “Cozy place. Which of these pictures are yours?”
“I did them all, except for the quilt.”
He moved in for a closer look at the landscape. “This is great. “You’re going to be famous someday.”
“You mean someday after I’m dead? That’s how it works, right?”
Grinning, Nick walked toward her. He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“In your case, I certainly hope not.” Impulsively, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.
When she didn’t step away, he moved his arm to her back, and his lips found hers.
She rested her hands on his chest, and he thought she must be able to feel his heart pounding like crazy.
Pulling back, he pushed a strand of hair away from her face and looked deeply into her eyes to gauge her reaction.
He wanted to know if she felt the same spark.
He wasn’t disappointed. Her full lips were slightly parted, and a soft light shone in her eyes.
“I’ve been thinking about that all week,” he murmured.
“And I’ve been wondering what that beard would feel like,” she told him.
“Not too scratchy?”
“No.”
“Good.” He tipped her chin and went back for seconds, deepening the kiss. A long moment later, he lifted his head, feeling slightly dazed.
She ran a hand down his arm and sent him a sweet smile before turning toward the kitchen.
He followed behind. The small kitchen was clean and simple with white countertops and cupboards.
A wire bowl of lemons added color to the table, and two whimsical prints of lemons and grapefruit hung above the sink.
The bright and cheery atmosphere was exactly what he expected.
Talent and personality—an intoxicating combination.
Kat’s face warmed. She’d been a little more honest than she intended—might as well have said she’d been mooning over him.
“What would you like to drink?” she called over her shoulder, trying to regain some composure.
“I think I’ll have a cup of tea. I have beer or wine. Or I could make some coffee.”
“Coffee would be great, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Of course not. How do you take it?”
“Black and strong.”
“I could add some Bailey’s Irish Cream or hazelnut liqueur.” She sometimes added the hazelnut to her chai tea for a nice warm drink to help her wind down.
“Thanks, but I’d better stick with the basic stuff.”
“Coming right up. Why don’t you have a seat?”
Instead, he perched against the square table that separated the kitchen area from the living space. “I’m good here.”
She finished preparing the coffee and leaned against the sink, facing him.
He nodded toward the other room where her naked easel stood in the corner. “Is this where all the masterpieces come together?”
“No. I paint here sometimes, but I have a studio space with some other people in an old warehouse not far from here.”
“Nice. I’d love to see it sometime.”
Meaning he’d be in the city again? She couldn’t help asking. “Are you in New York often?”
His gaze rested on her during the awkward pause that followed her question.
“Not usually,” he said, finally.
An interestingly vague answer. As the coffee machine gurgled and hiccupped to signal the brew was ready, Kat reached for a mug. She poured a cup and handed it to him.
Nick took the heavy hand-spun mug then settled onto the sofa.
Kat hesitated a beat before taking the seat beside him. Kicking off her boots, she curled up and tucked her feet underneath her. “What about you? Tell me about your place.”
“It used to be a garage. Now it’s a small apartment-studio combo. Nothing fancy.”
“But convenient.”
He chuckled. “Most of the time. But it can make it hard to get a break, too. The workspace is always there ready to kick my butt if I slack off.”
“And you do seem like such a slacker,” she teased.
She hardly knew him, but there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he came with an impeccable work ethic.
How else could he maintain a shop, show up for client meetings on time and finish beautiful custom projects plus volunteer for Habitat for Humanity?
Smiling eyes met hers over the mug.
“What’s the story on the quilt?” He nodded toward the wall.
“My grandmother made it for me when I was born. My mother didn’t like it, so she never used it.
When I was in high school, I hung it in my room and painted my walls yellow and pumpkin orange to match it.
You can imagine how much Mom loved that.
” Her mother found the bright colors and asymmetrical design garish.
“So, you get your artistic talents from your grandmother. That doesn’t look like something a grandmother would make.”
Kat smiled. “Nana Kitty is amazing. I hate to think where I’d be without her. She’s the one who encouraged me to follow my interests and pursue art. Mom and Dad just didn’t get it. Everyone else in the family has gone into law or business and finance. I’m the black sheep.”
He shook his head. “You’re the one with the style and personality. Did they try to steer you in other directions?”
“Oh, yes. Poor Mom tried to get me to go to science camps and get into DECA and student council. When I was initiated into the National Art Honor Society, she got online and researched it. She couldn’t imagine it was legitimate.”
“When did she finally give in?”
Kat hooted. “Excuse me? Give in? You’ve met my mother, right?”
A lazy smile spread across Nick’s face enveloping Kat in its cozy warmth.
“I’m not seeing a diplomatic way to answer that.”
Standing, Kat slipped the mug from Nick’s grasp. “You’re a quick learner.”
“Sooo, your grandmother is Kitty, and you’re Kat?”
She heard the humor in his voice. A common reaction. She refilled his mug and returned to the sofa, smiling. “That’s right. I started going by Kat in high school. When I graduated, I officially changed my name from Katherine to Katlyn. It fits me better.”
“More unique,” he added softly.
“Have you made any plans for tomorrow after the interview? Sightseeing or anything?”
His eyes met hers. “Nothing definite, but thought I might take a tour of the Museum of Modern Art.”
Kat’s heart stuttered. Oh, yeah. They were on the same page . “That’s too bad,” she told him with an airy tone. “I was thinking of skipping out on the Museum of Modern Art tomorrow afternoon.”
Nick caught her hand. “I like the way you think. Will a last-minute schedule change work for you?”
She quickly went through her calendar in her head. If she could get a few things checked off her list in the morning, taking the afternoon off shouldn’t be a problem. She could go in Saturday if necessary.
“Almost positive. I’ll text you if there’s an issue.”
“Do you happen to have a camera other than your phone? We could get to work on that photo shoot.”
Kat glanced around the apartment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d used it. “I do have a nice camera, somewhere. I’ll have to dig it up and charge the battery. Are you sure that’s how you want to spend your only free time in New York? I’d feel bad–”
He held up a hand to cut her off. “Kat, I’d love to. Probably wouldn’t take more than an hour, anyway.”
“Okay, why don’t you meet me at the museum whenever you’re done at the studio?”
“Sounds good. Be thinking about some locations.” He stood and sauntered to the kitchen. He rinsed the mug then held it up. “This go in the dishwasher?”
My, my, what a thoughtful guest. “It does. Thanks.”
“Guess I better get going. Big day tomorrow, you know.”
Reluctantly, she uncurled from the sofa. “I know. I think I’m more nervous than you are.”
Nick shrugged. “Well, thanks for that, but I’ve got this. Hey, if they don’t recognize the talent in front of them, it’s their loss, right?”
Kat sputtered a laugh. “Okay, then. I see your ego has this well in hand.”
He pulled her toward him. “Pretty sure a good-luck kiss would seal the deal.”