She stopped herself just in time. She had almost leaned in to discover whether it had a concentrated sandalwood scent to it. Tugging at the hem of her T-shirt, she smoothed it over the top of her hips as she attempted to collect her wits.
“I…I love it actually.” She wanted to lie. To tell him it was terrible, but she couldn’t. “It’s bold. A little reckless perhaps, even defiant. Skirting the rules somewhat, but not quite without abandon.” She took a step forward, resting her hand on the back of his chair and leaned close. She couldn’t help herself. “It’s got a certain je ne sais quoi about it, Mr. Serrano, if you want to know what I really feel.”
Slowly, and with the self-assurance of a man who knows what he wants and probably often gets it, he swiveled to face her.
She forgot about the rest of her students for a moment as her arm slipped from his chair back and glanced off his shoulder. With a warm hand, he clasped hers before it could fall to her side.
Looking down at his face, she saw the soft sparkle of his eyes and wanted to run her fingers along the square of his jaw. His mouth twisted into that playful smile she’d seen several times before and had dreamed about at night, and she suddenly realized she was positioned in the juncture of his legs. She couldn’t remember how to breathe.
“What a detailed assessment of my little sketch. You do have a beautiful way with words. I’m truly flattered. Thank you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Mister?”
Clearing her throat to buy herself an extra speck of time, she tried pulling away but he wouldn’t release her. She searched her brain for a clever comeback, a fitting reply. Nothing. She felt jumbled inside. “You’re welcome. Dom. It really is quite good. It…it makes me smile.” He softened his grip, but she wasn’t really relieved when she was able to pull away.
“Teacher?” She tried her best to copy his flippant tone.
After class, everyone helped stack the easels against the wall, but one student struggled to get his folded up. Before she could move to help him, Dom was at his side.
“These are rather sticky. Can I have a try at it?” With a twist, he loosened the thumb screws, collapsed the legs and handed the folded easel back. Dom rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder, the gesture almost fatherly, and the two spoke quietly for a moment. Then they both laughed. “Me, too,” she heard Dom say.
She was surprised. In previous terms the boy had been uncommunicative and rarely asked for or accepted help. As she shuffled through her papers and drawing samples, she wondered what Dom had said to make him feel so comfortable. She finished putting away all the supplies and turned to go.
“Good class.” Dom was close behind her as they walked out the door, and the thrill of his nearness raised goose bumps on her arms.
“Thanks. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, though.”
“What are you talking about?”
“First of all, you can’t just waltz in anywhere you want to. I was teaching a class. These people paid good money to take it. They don’t need their teacher distracted by…by an unexpected visitor.”
“I distract you?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Actually, I am a student. At the silent auction, I was the highest bidder on this.” He waved a piece of paper with the City Art School logo. “Lucky me. Again.” Despite herself, she felt her face heat. “You donated a six-week session of art classes, remember?”
“Of course I remember,” she snapped. Okay, now it made sense. When she’d checked to see how much money her donations had raised, she’d noticed someone had filled out the buy-now price on this item. It was him. She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or pissed off.
“I didn’t plan on taking the classes, but—”
“Then why did you buy it if you didn’t intend to use it?”
He shrugged. “It was an impulse purchase. Besides, many people buy certificates at auctions with no intention of ever using them. They simply consider it a donation.”
The temperature of her blood shot up. She didn’t care that he’d paid much more for the classes than what they were worth. Damn the Alzheimer’s Foundation.
“So when you left the tape measure, I thought I’d drop it off. Besides, I enjoyed our conversation. The way you describe things is…intriguing.”
“Intriguing?” Her anger began to fizzle. She didn’t remember exactly