bow tie. Lowering her voice, she said, “Where is that nude? I thought you said I wouldn’t be recognizable.”
“You aren’t, honey. Promise. Why do you ask?”
Mackenzie relayed what Tammy-Terry said.
“Oh, for crying out loud. It must be that gossip, Mrs. Thorn-Steuben. She arrived at my studio right after you left our last sitting. Did you see her? When she saw the painting I was working on, she must’ve put two and two together. It really is not noticeable that it’s you…only someone who knows your lovely back would recognize it. Go see for yourself. It’s right over there.” He nodded his head to the right. “Are you here alone?”
“Yes, my roommate dogged me at the last minute. Her new boyfriend called and— Well, you know how that is. So it’s just me tonight.”
“Well, then you must join us at our table. We have a few extra seats. Jerry and Craig weren’t able to make it, either. Table Three. Right up front.”
Mackenzie meandered through the silent auction tables, and although she hadn’t planned on bidding, she wrote her auction number on a couple of items. If she was fortunate enough to get something, she’d be excited. If not, then at least she’d have succeeded in bumping up the price and making more money for the Foundation. She saw that her two paintings and the art lessons she’d donated had several bidders already.
The live auction items were set up in the front of the room. A trip for two to Tuscany, a walk-on part in a popular sitcom, a winemaker’s dinner for twelve at a winery. Next to the display for a culinary trip to Paris was the painting of the nude.
Almost life-sized, it had been done on a large canvas using warm-hued oils applied with a palette knife. Martin was right—none of the details were very clear, and for that she was relieved. A group of people had just moved away from it and she stood there alone.
The naked figure on the canvas posed with her back to the viewer, one arm resting on the floor behind her, the other hand entwined in her hair. A gossamer cloth draped over one shoulder, pooling on the foreground in front of her backside. Just a hint of the right breast was visible and the face, turned down, was masked by a cascade of long brown hair.
Although she wasn’t recognizable in the painting, she still felt her temperature rise. Why had she worn this bare-backed dress tonight and pinned her hair to the side over one shoulder? Was everyone noticing the similarities between her back and the one in the painting?
Feeling the heat of someone’s stare, she wished she could loosen her hair and hide behind it. She was about to step away when she felt a tingling, almost a purring, flutter against her temples and the little hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She rubbed her shoulders but realized the sensation was sort of relaxing.
“It’s quite lovely.” The accented voice was deep and rich, and brought to mind dark chocolate melting on the back of her tongue. Goose bumps formed on her arms and she turned to see a man standing a few feet away.
He stood at least a head taller than her, and had dark, shoulder-length hair pulled back by a leather tie. A thick strand in the front had slipped free, as if it had been tied with the nonchalance of someone who knew perfection wasn’t important. She found herself wanting to twist it around her finger and see the tips of her nails peek out from under that thick mane. The crystalline blue of his eyes was a stark contrast to a dark fringe of lashes as he looked down at her with an air of familiarity.
God, did she know him from somewhere? Surely she’d remember meeting a man like him if she had.
Those eyes, those beautiful eyes, flanked by a few lines that suggested living rather than time, raked the inner recesses of her mind. They were gentle now, but somehow she knew they could be cruel. She took a step backward on her teetering heels, her heart hammering two staccatos—one in her head and the other in her chest.
Although his attire was more casual than the stiff tuxedos sported by most of the men in attendance, he carried himself with a grace and ease that exuded confidence. He wore a brushed silk T-shirt that draped luxuriously over tailored charcoal slacks. With a black leather coat