Wyatt.”
He opened his mouth as if to reply then closed it, shook his head and turned away to look out over the water. When at last he started to sway as if he was going to topple over, Chance took the bottle and stood. “Come on.” She extended her hand to him.
He looked up and after a moment took her hand. With his arm draped over her shoulder they made their way to the house. Chance thought she was going to collapse under his weight but she finally got him in the house and upstairs.
Wyatt fell face first on the bed and was out cold before he hit the mattress. Chance took off his shoes and spread a blanket over him then went downstairs. She wrapped up in a thick quilt and lay down on the couch. After a very long time she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Three
The first rays of sun were streaking across the sky when Chance awoke. The room was chilly as the fire had long since died down. She took a couple of logs from the rack beside the fireplace, stirred the glowing embers and placed the wood on top of the coals.
She quietly tiptoed upstairs. Wyatt was still asleep with one arm thrown across his face. Chance went back downstairs to the kitchen. She looked around and found the coffee. She prepared a pot then wandered around the house.
It wasn’t a big place. Aside from the den and kitchen downstairs there was a bathroom beneath the loft area and a small sitting area piled with books.
In the rear of the house on the opposite side of the kitchen were two doors. She opened the first one and saw the room was crammed with weights and exercise equipment. She closed that door and she walked down the short hall to the last room.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she opened the door and looked around. One wall was dominated with a big picture window. Beneath the window sat a large drawing table on which a completed picture lay.
Chance looked at the picture and realized it was an illustration for a book cover. She had known all her life that Wyatt liked to doodle and draw but she never imagined he was that good. She studied the illustration for a few minutes and realized that the style was familiar.
She turned from the drawing table and looked around at the pictures that were tacked on the opposite wall. They were all excellent, but some were disturbing—scenes of violence and darkness. As she admired his work, she sat down at the chair in front of the drawing table. After a little while she turned the chair and looked around the room.
An old two-drawer file cabinet in the corner drew her attention. She went to it and knelt down, opening the top drawer. It was crammed full of sketchbooks. At first she was hesitant to look inside them. But with Wyatt asleep upstairs he would never know. And her curiosity was in control. She lifted out a stack, sat down on the floor and started looking through them.
The first couple were of scenes he had apparently sketched while in the Navy. There were faces of people from Africa to Alaska. In each picture the eyes of the people seemed to be alive. Wyatt had the ability to capture the soul of his subject in his work. Chance could almost feel the hearts of the people she saw in the drawings.
When she opened the next pad, a gasp of surprise escaped her lips. The book was filled with sketches and drawings of her. She flipped through the pages, marveling at what she saw. There were images of her at all ages. It was like seeing an album of her childhood.
She reached the last page and stopped to stare in complete amazement. The face was hers but she didn’t think she could ever look that sensual. It showed the form of a woman lying on her back on a large, slightly curved rock. The woman’s hair cascaded down over the stone in a shining wave. Her face was turned forward and there was a look of such sensuality in the eyes they seemed to call like a siren, drawing the viewer inside the picture.
The woman’s arms were crossed over her breasts, pushing the full mounds up together. Sunlight
He opened his mouth as if to reply then closed it, shook his head and turned away to look out over the water. When at last he started to sway as if he was going to topple over, Chance took the bottle and stood. “Come on.” She extended her hand to him.
He looked up and after a moment took her hand. With his arm draped over her shoulder they made their way to the house. Chance thought she was going to collapse under his weight but she finally got him in the house and upstairs.
Wyatt fell face first on the bed and was out cold before he hit the mattress. Chance took off his shoes and spread a blanket over him then went downstairs. She wrapped up in a thick quilt and lay down on the couch. After a very long time she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Three
The first rays of sun were streaking across the sky when Chance awoke. The room was chilly as the fire had long since died down. She took a couple of logs from the rack beside the fireplace, stirred the glowing embers and placed the wood on top of the coals.
She quietly tiptoed upstairs. Wyatt was still asleep with one arm thrown across his face. Chance went back downstairs to the kitchen. She looked around and found the coffee. She prepared a pot then wandered around the house.
It wasn’t a big place. Aside from the den and kitchen downstairs there was a bathroom beneath the loft area and a small sitting area piled with books.
In the rear of the house on the opposite side of the kitchen were two doors. She opened the first one and saw the room was crammed with weights and exercise equipment. She closed that door and she walked down the short hall to the last room.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she opened the door and looked around. One wall was dominated with a big picture window. Beneath the window sat a large drawing table on which a completed picture lay.
Chance looked at the picture and realized it was an illustration for a book cover. She had known all her life that Wyatt liked to doodle and draw but she never imagined he was that good. She studied the illustration for a few minutes and realized that the style was familiar.
She turned from the drawing table and looked around at the pictures that were tacked on the opposite wall. They were all excellent, but some were disturbing—scenes of violence and darkness. As she admired his work, she sat down at the chair in front of the drawing table. After a little while she turned the chair and looked around the room.
An old two-drawer file cabinet in the corner drew her attention. She went to it and knelt down, opening the top drawer. It was crammed full of sketchbooks. At first she was hesitant to look inside them. But with Wyatt asleep upstairs he would never know. And her curiosity was in control. She lifted out a stack, sat down on the floor and started looking through them.
The first couple were of scenes he had apparently sketched while in the Navy. There were faces of people from Africa to Alaska. In each picture the eyes of the people seemed to be alive. Wyatt had the ability to capture the soul of his subject in his work. Chance could almost feel the hearts of the people she saw in the drawings.
When she opened the next pad, a gasp of surprise escaped her lips. The book was filled with sketches and drawings of her. She flipped through the pages, marveling at what she saw. There were images of her at all ages. It was like seeing an album of her childhood.
She reached the last page and stopped to stare in complete amazement. The face was hers but she didn’t think she could ever look that sensual. It showed the form of a woman lying on her back on a large, slightly curved rock. The woman’s hair cascaded down over the stone in a shining wave. Her face was turned forward and there was a look of such sensuality in the eyes they seemed to call like a siren, drawing the viewer inside the picture.
The woman’s arms were crossed over her breasts, pushing the full mounds up together. Sunlight
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