Reckless In Love(50)

He tasted the relief on her lips, and hoped she could taste his love for  her on his. Even if he'd never drawn in front of anyone before, and was  honestly scared shitless. He could stand on a stage in front of tens of  thousands of people, absolutely calm and in his element. But in this  moment...

It felt like he was trying to walk the mile Francine had just walked.

"Drink your coffee," he told them. "Have a chat. Don't mind me."

His voice sounded stronger, and more confident, than he actually felt.  Then, with Charlie's warm smile on him, he began to draw. She chatted  with her mother about the new friends Francine had already made, told  her all about the group home, the Mavericks, Susan, Bob, Noah, the kids  working on the tile. She repeated the word family and by the fourth  time, he was so glad to realize she'd felt like part of his family.  Finally, she understood that she was a Maverick.

As the women talked and his pencil flashed across the page, he felt pretty good. For a while. But then...

His tension started to rise, higher by the second. The drawing wasn't  right. Wasn't perfect. He could show off Francine's bright eyes, her  childlike delight, her enthusiasm, but something about her face didn't  hit the mark. He wanted to capture the webbing of fine lines,  contrasting it with her sweet smile and illustrating the woman who was  strong enough to endure. That was the real Francine, but he couldn't do  it. Couldn't master any part of the sketch. Couldn't do Francine  justice.

You drew this crap? You drew all these pictures of me looking like shit?  His father's voice rang through his head as if Ian Montgomery had risen  from the dead and was standing right in front of him. My stupid,  worthless kid thinks he's an artist. But he's nothing. I'll show you  where your pictures belong, you little shit.

Sebastian erased the lines and started over. He would not let his father  get the best of him. But when he tried once more, the voice he couldn't  get out of his head was even louder now, and he had to erase again.

"May we see?"

Charlie's voice abruptly jolted him back to the present. To the garden  at Francine's nursing home-and the sketch he was all but erasing holes  in.

He took a breath, silently counting to four before replying. "Let's work  on this drawing later." He made himself smile for them both, feeling it  stretch too far across his face until it resembled a grimace. "I can  sketch your face from memory, Francine."

But Francine was already holding out her hand. "Please, Sebastian," she  said with a sweet, appreciative smile, "don't keep me in suspense."

He couldn't hurt Francine's feelings, would never forgive himself if he  did. So he handed over the sketch, hiding his reluctance. It was ten  brutally long seconds-he counted each and every one of them-before she  looked at him again.

"You've made me beautiful."

"Of course I did. You're very beautiful, Francine."

"I'm old, Sebastian. Old people are usually completely invisible. But  I'm not anymore. Not when I look at this wonderful picture you just  drew. Look how marvelous this is, honey."

He swallowed hard as Francine handed Charlie the sketchbook.

Whereas Francine had taken only ten seconds, Charlie had barely looked  down at it when a sheen of tears swelled in her eyes. Her smile  trembled. "This is beautiful." She held the sketch to her chest, as if  she needed it next to her heart. "The most beautiful drawing I've ever  seen."         

     



 

* * *

Charlie had begged her mother to let her keep the drawing-and Sebastian  had promised to do another of her very soon. It lay on Charlie's lap as  they drove back up Highway 880 to Sebastian's mansion on the hill. She  smoothed the edges with her fingers. "I'm going to frame it and hang it  on the wall."

"You're going to frame it?" Sebastian got that panicked look she only  ever saw when he was talking about his art-or his parents. "You've got  to let me try again. I'll make a better one."

They'd stayed late at Magnolia Gardens and now traffic was gridlocked.  But for once, Charlie appreciated it, because it meant Sebastian was her  captive audience. "You can draw my mother as many times as you want,  but you're not getting this one back. It's mine now."

Sebastian was silent for a long moment. Long enough that she prayed he finally understood just how special his gift was.

"I wanted to convey her strength of character. But I couldn't get it right."

"You did get it right," she said, frustration seeping into her voice  despite her attempts to hold it in. "This is my mother the way I  remember her when I was a child. Before the pain. You've captured her  heart as a young woman."

"That's great, but I still didn't draw what I wanted to draw."

Why was it so hard for him to believe in his own art? "You might not  have meant to sketch her like this-" She stroked her mother's jubilant  face. "-but it turned out to be magic. This drawing makes me remember  cookies baking in the kitchen and the dolls she used to knit. Can't you  see? That's what art is all about. How you make a person feel."

He kept his capable hands on the wheel, switching lanes, eyes on the road. "You love it because you love me."

She almost growled at him. She'd shamelessly tricked him into sketching  her mother, but even though she and her mother had been moved to tears,  it clearly hadn't proven anything to him.

Why could he see everyone's brilliance but his own?





CHAPTER THIRTY


Early Sunday morning, Charlie had to drag her butt down to the studio.  Between working on the house in San Jose, a Saturday afternoon barbecue  with the Mavericks, then heading straight to another event that  Sebastian was absolutely convinced could be critical to her career-she  hadn't even had the energy to make love last night. She was pretty sure  he'd carried her in from the car, undressed her, pulled the covers over  her, then given her the softest, sweetest kiss on the forehead before  whispering, "We'll take tomorrow night off. I promise."

God, she prayed that wasn't a dream. Please, please, please, not again tonight.

Utterly exhausted, she dropped down to sit on the bare concrete floor  and stared at her magnificent stallions. Once upon a time they'd been so  alive to her. Now they were mere skeletons. She just didn't feel them  anymore, and she was so tired that she couldn't get her brain to focus  on the vision she used to have.

But Sebastian was trusting her to create something truly amazing for his  building. And she'd had a powerful vision of the two of them working  side by side, showing their art together-a vision she would give  anything to see come true. With only three weeks to go before the grand  opening of his headquarters, she would get through the rest of the work  even if it killed her.

At this moment, it felt like it would. Even her teeth were tired. All  she could manage was coffee, hot and extra sweet. Just the way she liked  Sebastian, she thought, but smiling was beyond her.

"Have you eaten?"

Thinking about him must have been like a psychic telegraph message,  because there he was. Big, beautiful, sexy. Perfectly silhouetted in the  open barn doorway.

"No." She was starving. But not only was she too tired to make herself  something, she was too tired to get up and walk into his arms.

Sebastian approached, a tray balanced on his hand. "Eggs Benedict." He  sat down with her so they could eat right there on the floor, bending  over the plates on the tray. She managed half of hers, plus a piece of  toast and some freshly squeezed orange juice.

"You spoil me." The food helped. She was still tired, but now she might  actually be able to get up off the floor at some point today and start  her work.

"I love spoiling you." He leaned in for a kiss that was as delicious and sweet as the orange juice.

When he helped her up, she swore her knees creaked as if she were her  mother's age. She might be exhausted, but that didn't mean she'd given  up her plan to bring Sebastian out of his artistic shell. "I've got a  brilliant idea."         

     



 

"All your ideas are brilliant."

He was so quick to praise her. But so hard on himself. "Draw me while I'm working, Sebastian."

He frowned at her. "Charlie."

"Please."

"I have work up at the house."

She worked to bite back her frustration. Frustration that had grown  monumentally with every day that passed, because he simply wouldn't  trust her when she told him he was a great artist. "You own the company,  which means that while you might have work to do at the house, you can  probably shift the timing of it around if you really need to." She  pressed into him. Using their attraction to get him to concede might not  be fair, but... All's fair in love, she decided. "Pretty please."

"You know I prefer to draw when I'm by myself."

She wanted to kick something, not him, just something. "It doesn't have to be perfect."