I didn’t
respond, finding it difficult to put my discomfort into words.
“I can imagine me telling you about Madaster’s character didn’t help your uneasiness any,” Evan said.
“I’m glad you told me about him. I wish you’d talk to me more about what’s going on in your head.”
He stared down at me, his gaze thoughtful.
“I’ll show you another spot where you can paint,” he finally said firmly, as if he’d just come to a decision. “It’s not quite as picturesque as the one you’re on now, but the view is beautiful there, and trees will shield you from the tower.”
“Really?” I asked hopefully at first. Then reality hit. “But I wanted this series to all be from the same perspective.”
“Is it really that important? It doesn’t matter if one of them is from a slightly different angle or not.”
“It does matter. The concept for the series is to paint the same view at the same time period everyday, and try to show the differences in light caused by weather, cloud formations, and the gradual alteration of the sun as the season slowly changes. It’ll ruin everything to have a painting from a different perspective. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Hey,” he said gruffly, because I’d been staring at his chest while my mind spun anxiously. I looked up at him. He squeezed my shoulder. “Lauren is going to love your stuff, honey. You’re incredibly talented. I know you’re a perfectionist, but you’re going to have to trust me on this.”
I smiled, a feeling of relief penetrating my anxiety. That was the effect his praise and reassurance had on me. No one else could have soothed me about that topic. He was right. I was a perfectionist when it came to my painting.
“But what about San Francisco?” I asked.
“I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone.”
“I’ll be fine. Our security system could work for Fort Knox,” I said dryly, referring to the fancy, high tech wireless system that covered every square inch of the mansion. Despite my assurance to him, however, a vivid picture of the nightmare woman standing by our bed jumped into my mind’s eye.
I would be alone with Evan gone.
Alone with her.
I didn’t think I showed the slight shock of fear that went through me. Nevertheless, Evan resumed his casual massage on my shoulder, as if to calm me.
“How about if I ask Valeria if she can come out and stay while I’m gone?” he suggested. “That way, you can paint all weekend if you want.”
“That’d work,” I said, brightening at the idea.
He watched me for a few seconds from beneath a lowered brow.
“Maybe. I don’t know. It still makes me uncomfortable, the idea of you being here without me.”
I went up on my toes and pressed my mouth to his.
“Come on, Evan. What could possibly happen?” I whispered against his lips.
Chapter Ten
Evan planned to leave for San Francisco that Friday after lunch, but I noticed he lingered over his coffee extra long after we’d finished eating.
“Don’t you need to get on the road?” I asked him.
He shrugged and took another sip of his coffee, flipping his newspaper. I’d watched him pack a suit earlier for his meeting. But for the drive, he was dressed casually—and very attractively—in a soft-looking, light gray running shirt that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the unique color of his eyes.
I’d felt a powerful urge to run my hands all over him during our lunch, but had refrained, of course. His imminent departure weighed heavy on me, even though I was determined not to show it. It would be the first time we were separated since we’d been married.
“I’d forgotten Valeria couldn’t be here until after her class was finished. I’m not crazy about leaving you here alone with the construction crew downstairs,” he explained after a pause.
I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Evan. You know I’ll be fine. You yourself have told me that you know the supervisor—Keith Vankamp, isn’t it?—personally. You went to school with him, didn’t you?”