PaintedPassion Read Online Free Page A

mentioned coffee?”
    “Coffee? Yes. In the kitchen.” Somehow, she managed to wade
through the thick haze of lust and regain her composure. “I’ll let you dress.”
She left, closing the door behind her with a definitive click .
    Trella slumped against the wall. The man deserved to be in a
magazine or a calendar. She’d love to paint him. Defined yet not overly
muscular, his body promised sheer strength.
    She peeled herself from the wall and concentrated on putting
one foot in front of the other. In the kitchen, she poured a cup of coffee,
grabbed a bagel and her sketchpad then darted to the patio. Why are you
running away? At this point, she required sanity, and that meant distancing
herself from Carlos.
    Trella sat on one of the half-moon benches that curved along
the concrete walk. A gecko scurried past her feet, probably intent on
discovering a place to hide.
    She sipped her coffee. She had to put this thing with Carlos
into perspective. If she didn’t pull herself together, she’d embarrass them
both. He was an exemplary friend. Always had been. Her reaction to him was
nothing more than a case of ridiculously inappropriate lust.
    Sure, she could rationalize her behavior, but how to explain
his? She tapped a pencil against her bottom lip. As much as she wanted to
flatter herself into believing his reaction to her was something more, his
physical response to her in the bedroom a few minutes ago was probably the
effect of having a woman stare at him.
    She needed to clear her thoughts of him if she wanted to
accomplish any work today. Opening her pad, she allowed the memory of a naked
Carlos to fill her mind. One look at him and her nipples responded as if he’d
palmed them with his large hands. She smiled as the charcoal pencil brought him
to life on paper.
    Thank goodness he was leaving today.
    * * * * *
    Carlos stared out the kitchen window as Trella worked,
seemingly oblivious to the stirrings of the morning around her. Dressed in
clingy black pants and a white t-shirt, she sketched furiously, as if getting
rid of extra energy. He knew the feeling. A breeze ruffled her hair around her
shoulders. She didn’t appear fazed by the heat, while unfulfilled desire burned
him up inside.
    When she’d surprised him in the bedroom, his brain had shut
down, and not from the rush of blood flowing below his waist either. He’d been
afraid she would notice her top lying amid the pillows.
    But she hadn’t, not the way her gaze had been glued to him.
If he were honest, he didn’t mind the fact she’d seen him nude. He regularly
worked out, and her response to his body stroked his ego. He prayed she
attributed his erection to the fact a beautiful woman studied him and not
because he wanted her.
    Madre de Dios . Every searching sweep of her gaze had
ignited his desire into a flame, the wondrous look in her eyes inviting him to
touch her. Instead, he’d summoned the self-control necessary to extinguish the
fire threatening to explode beyond its boundary.
    After this morning’s incident, he dreaded facing her again.
He delayed leaving the bedroom, running a comb through his hair so many times
it was a wonder he had any left. When he spotted her outside, he’d used the
opportunity to return her top to the laundry room.
    Engrossed in reliving the morning’s events, he didn’t hear
anyone come into the kitchen until a familiar voice broke the silence.
    “Planning to stare her skin off?”
    Carlos whirled around. Miguel lowered his bulk into a chair
at the table. An artery-clogging breakfast of assorted doughnuts and Danishes
plus two cartons of milk sat before him.
    Carlos had confessed Louis’ dying request only to his
cousin. As a result, Miguel had passed on an opportunity to work a young
Hollywood celebrity’s bodyguard and had gone to work for Trella, instead.
    “Seen anyone watching the house?” Carlos asked. “Any cars
driving by slowly?”
    His mouth full, Miguel shook his head. A full minute passed
before he