Page 2 of Untouchable

She had to walk over the slight hill toward the trees before she saw him throwing a Frisbee to the dog.

She sighed, thinking it would have been polite had the man waited near the entrance for her like a normal person, but the wealthy types she catered to weren’t always thinking about what was convenient for her. She swallowed her faint annoyance and walked over to him.

The dog was beautiful. Well-bred and healthy with thick fur, good lines, and a powerful run. He would make a beautiful portrait even if his owner was rather inconsiderate.

Kelly pulled out her camera and snapped a few pictures as she approached. She usually painted from photographs since that was easier for everyone—aside from the occasional client who mistakenly thought the portrait was “purer” when painted from real life. But she always got to know the animals before she painted them so she could invest the paintings with personality as well as get the visuals right.

The man saw her approaching and taking pictures of the dog, so he stopped throwing the Frisbee and waited until she reached him.

“Good morning,” she said with her professional smile. “He’s beautiful. His name is Chester?”

The man frowned. She guessed him to be in his forties. He was very attractive with a strong, lean body, dark hair, and the stance of a man who was used to being in authority. He didn’t look at all the way he’d sounded on the phone.

“No,” he said, his voice deep and cultured. “It’s not.”

Kelly gave a little start as she realized she might have made a mistake. “He’s not Chester? You’re not Mr. Verner?”

“I’m not.” He tossed the Frisbee again, and the dog ran exuberantly to catch it.

“Oh. Sorry.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m supposed to meet someone here with a German shepherd, and you’re the only one who matches that description.”

He smiled then, evidently assured she wasn’t a crazed dog stalker. “If it’s a hookup, you should get a better description of him rather than just going for the dog.”

There was amusement in his tone and a kind of teasing flirtation in his expression, making him even more attractive than before. She liked the little lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes, and she liked the warm chocolate brown of his eyes.

His body was nothing to sneer at either—his muscle development graceful and strong but not bulky.

As she’d been studying him, he’d been doing the same with her, his gaze raking from her painted toenails in her sandals to her dark gold hair in a low ponytail. It was obvious that he liked the looks of her since his gaze heated up as he drawled, “He sure won’t be disappointed in you though.”

“It’s not a hookup,” she said, feeling a familiar prickle of excitement and interest running down her spine. Who was this guy anyway? “It’s a client I’m meeting.”

“I see.” He gave her a leisurely smile, his eyes lingering at the slight cleavage exposed at the neckline of her tank top. “Well, he still won’t be disappointed.” When his dog ran up, offering the Frisbee excitedly, the man grabbed it and tossed it again.

“You move pretty fast, don’t you?” She was used to men coming on to her but usually in bars or clubs, where they were clearly both there for that purpose. It wasn’t all that common for a man to come on strong like this in normal daily interaction.

It was strangely exciting though. Her heart beat faster as she waited for his response.

He laughed softly, his eyes still lingering on her face and body in a way that felt deeply entitled. “You’re the one who approached me with a ridiculous pretense of looking for a client.”

“Hey! That wasn’t a pretense. It was an honest mistake.” She pulled out her business card and offered it to him. “See.”

The dog returned, and seeing that his owner was busy reading a business card, he flopped the Frisbee down at Kelly’s feet. She picked it up and gave it a good throw, watching the dog bound after it.

“Pet portraits?” the man asked skeptically with that same smug laughter in his eyes.

“What’s your point?”

“Nothing. You’re just that type, aren’t you?”

“What type?”

“Pet portrait artist. At one with the universe. Lover of flowers and trees and all furry creatures. Filling the world with pretty crafts and warm fuzzies. I bet they call you Blossom.” His tone was bone-dry, as if he was far above such sentiment.

He probably was. She could tell even from their brief interaction that he was too intelligent, too experienced, and too competent to have patience with anything trite or saccharine.

She liked that about him. Despite her intentionally bohemian appearance just now, she was as far from those feelings as possible herself.

“You don’t know me at all,” she said, pleased at the cool aloofness of her tone.