“You didn’t meannude, did you?”
His brown brows shot up to his baseball cap brim.
“Nude what?”
“Painting?”
His lips curled into a smile. He swallowed and said, “Starting to think you got hoodwinked? Lured into the pretty-colored house by a colorful man with baked goods?”
“When you put it like that …”
He laughed with a grin. “I haven’t done nudes since art school. Although, if you’re offering, I suppose I could brush up my skills with the subject matter. The female form is universally respected as the most art-worthy.”
Imogen looked down at the powdered sugar on her plate, and for a brief moment, she pictured herself lying naked across a silk sheet on a settee with this man staring at her intently from behind a canvas with a brush in one hand.
I do not hate the visual at all.
“Maybe next time,” she replied lightly, but when she glanced up, she saw heat flare in his hazel eyes.
“You’re into it,” he said as a statement rather than a question.
“I have never done anything like that before in my life actually. As a matter of fact, as my sister said yesterday, I don’t ever date.”
“Why not?”
“Bad experience last go-round.”
“And it put you off men forever?”
“Being cheated on wasn’t my jam.”
“Sounds like you got lucky. At least you didn’t get stuck with him.”
“You are definitely right there. And I’d rather be alone than be with someone I don’t love or trust.”
“You don’t seem like the type to offer to pose naked for random artists either.”
“No, definitely not. In fact, I don’t run across many of those underwater.”
He chuckled, finished his beignet, and brushed the powdered sugar from his hands onto the plate before him.
“You want a tour?”
Imogen nodded quickly as she chewed.
“Cool. Let’s start with the kitchen. I’ll get you some water and a napkin.”
For the next twenty minutes, Imogen was caught up in a state of amazement. His home was gorgeous. Soaring ceilings, original woodwork, exposed brick walls, exquisite curving wooden staircases and railings, and then he took her to his favorite room in the house—his attic studio and the rooftop deck.
“Oh wow. The light is incredible in here.”
One wall was filled with windows and French doors, with light, sheer curtains billowing in the morning breeze. Canvases leaned everywhere against the three walls and sat in various stages of completion on multiple easels. His artwork, she had noticed as she toured his incredible home, was stunning. The canvases were covered with bright, colorful impressionist-style works that made joy bubble up from within her. If she had to describe the vibe of his artwork, she’d call ithappiness.
“I paint outside a lot. This room has the perfect setup with the rooftop deck.”
“Amazing. Like it was meant to be a studio.”
“I like to think so. It was unfinished when I inherited the house. This is the one room I finished off myself.”