Jackson grinned sardonically "Nah, not really interested, maybe some other time."
She slapped his chest with both hands and laughed, "That's just mean!"
He took her hands, kissed one and said, "Lead the way, Legs." The instant the word left his lips he cursed himself. Elisabeth took a step back and looked at him quizzically. He grimaced. "I'm sorry, that was rude." He frantically thought about how to explain his comment. He couldn't very well say, 'I really am that pig you pegged me for, just trying to hide it from you, babe'.
Elisabeth touched his face. "That's sweet."
SWEET? He shook his head wondering if he would ever truly understand this woman.
They walked through to the back of the house. Where most houses would have a deck, there was a large studio, with professional lighting and lots of glass. "Wow! You must have had this built."
"No, an artist lived here previously. I really lucked out; it came on the market right before I arrived. Almost as if it was meant to be."
Jackson surveyed the room; there were canvases everywhere. "Where do I start?"
"It's a bit messy, I'm going through things. I'm having a showing next Friday."
"You are?"
"Yes, would you like to come?"
"Absolutely." He started skimming through one stack of oils. "You have a gift." Seeing her art touched him deeply. She revealed herself in her work, and he felt an intimacy with her through her art. After about a half hour of walking around trying to take everything in, Elisabeth said, "Pick one for yourself."
"Really?"
"Yes, I want you to have one."
He put a hand through his hair. "Man, I don't know if I can. They're all so beautiful, how can I choose?"
"Would you like the landscape over the mantle?"
He stared incredulously. "No, I couldn't."
"Yes you can and you will."
He smiled at her, understanding her joke. "Really Elisabeth, that's one of your favorites. I wouldn't feel right about it."
She approached him and held his hands. "There is no greater joy for an artist than to know their work is in the hands of someone who truly understands it."
"You are a brilliant artist." He kissed her gently. Her eyes were warm and inviting, yet she still pulled away. Damn,why is she so guarded? He felt like they were moving one step forward, two steps backward.
Something caught his eye in the far corner of the room, the orchid. It sat on a table, and behind it were two easels and a stool. He nodded at it. "May I?"
"Oh, it's not done yet, maybe next time." He walked toward the orchid. "Come on, I'd love to see the process." She turned bright red and cringed. Upon reaching the corner, he discovered why. One of the easels held the painting of the orchid and on the other sat a sketch of him. It differed from the one from the park. He gazed at her tenderly. "Don't be embarrassed, you have no idea how thrilled I am by this."