The elevator doors opened, and she thanked the guard before she hurried in. Once inside, she peeked through the roses and tried to figure out what button to push. The shout of the delivery guy—“Hey, who took my ducky!”—had her taking a chance on the top floor. But before the doors could completely close, a distinguished older gentleman in an expensive gray suit slipped in.
He tapped a floor button before he glanced at his watch and shook his head. “Late again. My mother would be rolling in her grave.” He straightened his already perfectly knotted tie and finally noticed Chloe. Or not her so much as the bouquet she hid behind. “I’m going to assume that there is someone inside that rose garden.” With no other choice, Chloe shifted the ducky and peeked out. The man’s eyes widened. “Holly Golightly.”
“Excuse me?”
“My apologies,” the man said. “But your resemblance to Audrey Hepburn took me by surprise. Holly Golightly was the character she played in the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” He cocked his head and pressed his index finger to his bottom lip. “The resemblance is uncanny—same symmetrical facial features, short, dark bangs, and expressive eyes.” He lowered his hand. “Please tell me you model.”
She shook her head. Although that wasn’t exactly true. She had modeled once, and for French Kiss, but not on purpose. And she’d signed the release only because she needed the money and her entire face had been covered by a big floppy beach hat.
“That’s too bad,” the man said as he pulled a card from his pocket. “If you ever change your mind, be sure to call me. Samuel Sawyer.” Since her hands were full, he tucked the card in the roses just as the elevator doors opened. He stepped out and gave her a knowing look over his shoulder. “Maybe when you call, you can tell me why you stole the ducky.”
The top floor wasn’t nearly as purple as the lobby. The hallway carpet was a neutral beige, and the office doors a natural wood. Next to each door was a gold nameplate, and it didn’t take long to find the one she was looking for. She stared at the name and was surprised at how nervous she suddenly felt.
Grayson Romeo Beaumont held no threat for her. In fact, of all the men she had met in her life, Grayson was the least threatening. He was shy and soft-spoken, with a calming effect on women that had had Chloe nicknaming him the Woman Whisperer. Not that his whispering had worked on her. After her one and only boyfriend had been physically abusive, she didn’t trust her own instincts where men were concerned. Just the thought of Zac had her knocking on the door a little harder than necessary.
The door flew open. The man who stood there wasn’t the man she’d expected to see. This man wasn’t a clean-shaven billionaire in a designer suit that had cost more than Chloe’s yearly rent. This man had a scruffy beard and thick brown hair that fell to his shoulders. He wore a white button-up linen shirt that was covered with smudges of paint, and faded jeans with rips in the knees and tattered hems that partially covered his long, bare feet.
She lifted her gaze from his tanned toes to his purple eyes. Not the ugly purple of squashed grapes, but the deep bluish purple of the bachelor’s button flowers that grew in her grandfather’s garden. There were only three men she knew with eyes this color. One was at home with his new son, and the other was on his honeymoon. Which left one. Except this man didn’t act like the youngest Beaumont. Especially when he barked at her.
“Flower deliveries are dropped off at the front desk.” He slammed the door.
Chloe stood there for a moment in confusion before a smile lit her face. It seemed that the Woman Whisperer had finally decided to show his true colors, and not surprisingly, she was much more comfortable with this volatile Beaumont than with the shy, calm one she’d met six months ago. Without bothering to knock again, she turned the knob and walked in.
The executive suite didn’t look like an office. It looked more like a painter’s studio. A messy painter’s studio. A splattered white tarp covered the floor, a mishmash of furniture and props was piled in a corner, and canvases were stacked against one wall. The other wall held a black backdrop. In front was a purple divan like the ones in the lobby. A divan she’d seen in Grayson Romeo’s paintings. But in all his other paintings, a gorgeous naked woman had been draped over the divan. Today the long sofa held something else entirely.
Chloe squinted at the small red apple for only a second before her gaze turned to the man behind the easel. The few times she’d seen him sketch, his movements had been fluid and graceful, like his pencil was a figure skater gliding across ice. She had assumed that he would paint the same way, but she’d been wrong. His movements were brisk and brutal as he jabbed his brush into the acrylic paint palette he held before slashing it at the canvas as if he wanted to slice it in two.
“I guess painting apples is not as much fun as painting women.”
His head jerked up, and she set the ducky bouquet down on a table cluttered with paints and brushes and waggled her fingers. “Hey. Remember me?”
The paintbrush fell from his fingers and hit the floor, splattering black paint all over the hem of his jeans and his bare foot.
She smiled. “I guess you do.”
It took only a second for him to recover and for his eyes to narrow. “What do you want?”
Chloe let her smile drop. “I get it. You’re not exactly thrilled to see me. And after the way I acted on our road trip to Eden’s parents’ house, I can’t really blame you. I admit that I was a wee bit bitchy.”
“A wee bit?”
She held up her hands. “Okay, so I was a lot bitchy—especially when you were doing me a favor.”
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Madison.”
Chloe understood that. Madison could get men to do just about anything. And not just because of her voluptuous body, but also because of her kind heart and sweet nature. She was the antithesis of Chloe’s skinny body and belligerent attitude. Which probably explained why they were such good friends. Madison was the one who had introduced Grayson to Chloe. The one who had brought him to Zac’s apartment after Zac had beat the crap out of Chloe. The one who had talked him into driving Chloe to a safe place until Zac was arrested. And maybe that was why Chloe had been so mean to Grayson. She hadn’t liked that he’d seen her at her weakest. She didn’t like being weak. But she especially didn’t like people witnessing it.
“Well, anyway,” she said, “I’m sorry.”
She knew it wasn’t the best apology, but she expected some kind of acknowledgment. Instead he set down the palette before he grabbed a rag and leaned down to wipe the paint off his foot. She might’ve sworn off men, but that didn’t stop her from appreciating the view. Grayson had always had a nice body—long, lean, and well proportioned. She just hadn’t remembered his ass being so hot.
He straightened. “Is that why you came? To apologize with a ducky bouquet of roses?”
She cleared her throat, along with the image of his butt in the worn jeans from her mind. “No, the roses were being delivered to your brother. I just used them to get up here. The real reason I came is to let you know that I’ve changed my mind.” She forced a bright smile. “I’ve decided to let you paint me.”