an hour later, her fingers were still poised over a blank sheet. A thread of fear feathered her nape. Had she lost her muse for ever?
Elise forced herself to breathe. Eyes shut, she traced the pencil over the blank sheet. She knew the subject of her sketch the moment her fingers began to move.
Almost trancelike, she sketched Alejandro’s profile. Proud and regal, the image of him staring out of his office window at the view of Lake Michigan felt so real, her fingers trembled as she traced the fine lines, lingering with almost sinful delight over the curve of his lips. He was out of bounds to her for many reasons. But there was no reason she couldn’t have this.
Except this was a dangerous pastime, one she couldn’t afford to indulge in unless she wanted to invite a whole new set of problems for herself. She finished Alejandro’s sketch and returned to her manga story. The first image appeared within minutes.
Relief punched through her as the next image unfolded, followed by another.
Elise worked until her muscles grew stiff and her eyes began to droop. Setting aside the papers and easel with a deep sense of awe and accomplishment, she released the clip from her hair, and slid down into the comfortable bed. The ironic thought that the man she was so desperate to keep her guard up around was the same one who’d turned out to be her creative muse was the last she had as the hum of the plane lulled her into a floating sleep.
Only to be awaked by a wildly jarring movement.
Blinking, she sat up. The shades on the windows had been pulled halfway down, and a soft lamp turned low, leaving the room in a golden glow.
In the chaise, Alejandro sat nursing a cognac.
‘Uh...hi,’ she murmured.
Intense eyes drifted to her as he took a sip. ‘I left the light on so you wouldn’t think I’m sitting here in the dark watching you sleep like some sort of creep,’ he drawled.
His presence was inducing a myriad of feelings, but creepiness wasn’t one of them.
She licked her lower lip and surreptitiously smoothed her hair. ‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘Five hours. I imagine you would’ve slept for longer had we not flown into turbulence. The pilot tells me it’ll go on for a while. I thought you might appreciate a friendly face in case you’re a timid flyer,’ he mocked gently.
Her gaze darted to the windows, although there wasn’t much to see. She shrugged. ‘I’m the no-point-in-panicking-until-there’s-something-to-really-panic-about type of flyer.’
He smiled into his drink. ‘How fatalistic of you.’ Rising, he crossed to the bar and poured a mineral water. Elise tried to avert her gaze as he headed for her, but her eyes refused to cooperate. Breathless once more, she watched him advance with a lithe, powerful prowl.
As he held out the water the plane bounced again, spilling it onto her outstretched hand. Alejandro placed the glass on the bedside table, grabbed a tissue and dabbed drops from her hand, his eyes on her face the whole time.
‘Not as many shadows. I trust you slept better than you did last night?’
The deep timbre of his voice vibrated through her. ‘Yes. Thanks for offering me your bed.’
Nice, Elise. Fighting not to cringe or blush, she started to reach for the water.
The plane bounced again.
Glancing at the distance between the top of Alejandro’s head and the low ceiling, she smirked. ‘Maybe you should sit down before your head makes a hole in the ceiling and you doom us all?’
His mouth twitched as he perched at the foot of the bed. ‘You seem in a better mood, too.’ His gaze flicked to the zipped-up portfolio case that held her drawings. ‘Does this have something to do with it?’
She tensed slightly, unable to stem the ingrained wariness about her art. When his eyes reflected nothing but genuine interest, she nodded. ‘It hasn’t for a while but it helped today, yes.’
He nodded, his gaze resting speculatively on the case. When it flicked back to her, her heart tripped.
‘Are you going to make me beg to see them, Elise?’ he murmured.
Her fingers toyed with a corner of the sheet, her nerves jumping in time to the turbulence. ‘I don’t know...maybe?’
Eyes gleaming with intent traced her face before reconnecting with hers. ‘Por favor. I would be honoured to see your art.’
She grimaced. ‘Damn. You don’t play fair.’
A ghost of a smile curved his mouth. ‘No. I don’t.’
She reached for the case to extract her sketchbook, an absurd part of her acknowledging she would be totally crushed if he didn’t like it. Calling herself all kinds of a fool, she held it out to him.
Alejandro opened it. Surprise flickered in his eyes, then both eyebrows gradually spiked with each page he perused. Finally, when she didn’t think she would be able to stand the tension, he raised his head. ‘Que están más allá de magnífica,’ he rasped.
‘Translation, please,’ she whispered.
‘Magnificent.’
Pleasure shot through her, her smile powered by a thousand bulbs of happiness. ‘Thank you.’
He stared at her for a beat before returning his attention to the pages. ‘This is what you intend to do when you’re done with Jameson?’
‘It’s what I’ve wanted to do for a long time, but...’
‘But?’
‘I was afraid I’d lost...something. My work has felt stilted for a long time now.’
He regarded her steadily. ‘You had other things on your mind.’
Slowly she nodded. ‘Yes.’
Deft fingers leafed through the pages with escalating speed. ‘And your parents have a problem with this?’
Her fist knotted on the sheet. ‘My parents have a problem with most things I do. Or more accurately, what I don’t—’ She bit her tongue to stop words she didn’t want to spill.
His head lifted from the pages, green eyes narrowed. ‘What do they want?’
She shook her head. ‘I’d prefer not to—’
‘Your talent is undeniable. So tell me why they’d choose not to support you,’ he pressed.
‘Do your parents support you in everything you do?’
His face froze, a darkly forbidding look blanketing his features. ‘We’re not talking about me.’
‘Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.’
For a long minute, she thought he wouldn’t respond. ‘I haven’t sought my parents’ approval and they haven’t been in a position to give it because I haven’t spoken to them in almost fifteen years,’ he clipped out. ‘Now you.’
Elise closed the mouth that had dropped open and tried to stem the rising dread. ‘I don’t like talking about them.’
His jaw tensed for a second. ‘Because I erroneously likened you to them?’
The plane jarred her stomach into free fall for a second but her gaze didn’t leave his face. ‘Maybe. You have me as your captive audience at thirty-four thousand feet. Tell me what you’d have said differently.’
‘I wouldn’t have thrown your parents’ reputation in your face, for a start. I, more than anyone, should know that genetically we’re formed from their blueprints, but we’re not the sum total of our parents’ beliefs and actions.’
A sudden lump in her throat made it hard to breathe or speak. She tried anyway. ‘I... Thanks.’ She