Read Online Games People Play by Shelby Reed - Free Book Online Page A

life in the city and leave her to her own issues. He was too much of a distraction. She should let him go and forget pleasing Max for even one more day.
    No, damn it. The paintings she was about to create would continue to support her financially and even more, she’d be doing the kind of work she really wanted to do—completely unassociated with Max for the first time. She had to see it through. And if she could say one thing about Max, it was that he was right about her work coming alive when she used live models. No more photographs. It was time to get over her fears.
    Maybe she should thank Max after all.
    When the day’s early sun streamed golden through the studio windows, a brief knock sounded at the door and Colm stuck his head in. “Good morning.”
    Sydney slid off her barstool as though she’d been caught doing something illicit. “You’re up incredibly early.”
    “I saw your lights on.”
    She offered him a wry smile. “Your enthusiasm is without measure.”
    “I like this job.”
    Warmth crept up her neck. Before she could respond with something dismissive, he said, “I need coffee. The machine in my room doesn’t work.”
    “I’ll have Hans replace it.” She studied his damp hair and thought about him standing under the showerhead just minutes before. Her gaze ran over his untucked blue shirt and jeans. There was a hole in the left knee of his Levi’s and they were terribly faded. Terribly sexy, too.
    He nodded at the small coffeemaker on the table where she kept jars and extra supplies. “I know you serve Shiraz around ten a.m., but how about Starbucks at seven?”
    Good Lord, why hadn’t she offered him her coffee yet? She was standing there like a besotted fool. “Will Folgers do?”
    “Sure.” He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, then meandered down the ramp to where she stood at her easel. “Is that drawing what you did on our first session?”
    “I kept only this one warm-up sketch. The rest are in the garbage.”
    “You should never throw away a single work you do, Sydney. I’ll take them rather than see you do that.” His hair was a darker brown when wet, the chestnut highlights muted. He smelled like Irish Spring and shampoo. If she ever smelled the same scents again, she would remember this moment when a man would fish her crappy drawings out of a trash can rather than see them go to waste.
    “What are we doing today?” he asked.
    “I haven’t decided yet.” As she went to the table that held the ancient coffeemaker and poured some in a chipped mug, she spoke more brightly. “Did you talk to your friend about modeling?”
    “I did. His name is Garrett. He’s available Wednesday night and Thursday in the morning.” He took the mug from her and sat on the edge of the platform. “He understands the nature of the project and he’s very . . . malleable.”
    “Good.” She returned to the easel and set a blank prepared canvas on it. Today she would work on a portrait of Colm since they couldn’t start on the ménage until Wednesday. She wanted to gaze at his splendid male beauty and use her finest, most honed artist’s skill to render the perfect portrait—an ever elusive goal, but the drive was stronger than ever. She glanced at the play of shadow cast from her work lamp on the left side of his face. Her pulse thudded. A long time had passed since her heart had begun painting before she did.
    “How do you need me today?” he asked, setting aside his coffee mug.
    She jerked awake. “Oh . . . just as you are.”
    “More warm-up drawings?”
    She made a face. “Not today, since they obviously warmed up a whole lot of nothing yesterday.”
    The way he smiled told her that had somehow come out wrong, but she waved his humor away.
    “You know what I mean. I want to do another study of your face and shoulders today. Maybe work on it for the next two days until our models can get here and we begin on the ménage.”
    “So I don’t need to