The Wedding Wish (Summer Grooms) - By Ginny Baird Page 0,1
it too.”
He fell into her eyes, the sky and trees swirling around him. How could she still do this to him after so much time? “Yes. I mean…” He stammered slightly. “We both did. Want to.”
“I sure did,” she said, her pretty face aglow.
Robert suddenly remembered his mission. “It’s been so great seeing you, but I’ve got to get somewhere.”
Isabel checked the time on her cell. “Me too.”
“Where are you headed?”
“To the Art Center. And you?”
His face flamed. “I’m uh…” He glanced quickly around the quad. “Going that way,” he said, pointing in the opposite direction. “Say, Isabel,” he said before she could turn to go. “Do you think we could meet up later? It would be great to grab a cup of coffee and hear what you’ve been up to.”
Her face brightened in a smile. “Coffee later sounds great.”
“Meet me at the Student Center? Three o’clock?”
“Three it is,” she said, dashing off.
Isabel took a seat before an easel and pulled a stash of pastel pencils from her backpack.
“You know what I hate about these life drawing classes?” Cindy asked from beside her. “It’s the models they get. We’re supposed to be talking body form here. Think Michelangelo’s David. But all we ever get are these little skinny dudes. Waiflike, if you can even apply that term to guys.”
“All bodies are beautiful in their own way.” She was glad she’d finally gotten a class with her best friend. This had been the first one all year. During the last session, they’d studied the female figure. Today’s focus was the male anatomy. She adjusted her newsprint on the board before her, feeling Cindy grab her arm.
“Hang on,” Cindy said under her breath. “I think we’ve just been blessed.”
Isabel slowly raised her eyes to spy the back of their tall, blond model as he slid the robe from his frame. Musculature rippled across his well-toned back and taut derriere. “O. M. G.”
“Yeah. Right,” Cindy whispered. “I’m almost scared to have him turn around.”
As he did, Isabel gasped. When she and Robert had played doctor as kids, they’d teased each other with slight glimpses of each other’s bodies, but she’d never seen as much of him as all that. Even if she had, it certainly couldn’t have competed with the way he looked now. All grown up and gorgeous.
Robert set his robe on a nearby table, then took his place on the stool at the front of the room, bathed in the spotlights’ glow. He was…absolutely…perfect. From his head down to his toes then… Oh! All the way back up again—past his buff six-pack and broad, muscled chest and that hot-as-sin sexy face that, in and of itself, could make most women moan. Isabel swallowed hard, not at all sure she could do this.
“What’s the matter?” Cindy asked, hastily beginning to sketch. “Why aren’t you starting?”
Isabel was grateful she sat at the back of the room and that the glare from the lights was in his eyes. She felt her grip on her pencil slide as her palms went moist.
“I just never thought I’d have this opportunity.”
“You and me both,” Cindy said, giving Isabel’s hand holding the pencil a nudge. “And neither of us is going to waste it.”
“No,” Isabel said, striving to remain professional. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Robert sat as still as possible, trying to distract himself from the fact that he was sitting naked before a crowded room. If he hadn’t made that deal with his buddy Alan, he’d never be here. As it was, he was stuck upholding his end of the bargain. When he’d been suddenly called out of town to New York, he’d needed someone to pick up his shift at the lab quickly. The sole volunteer in sight had been Alan—although Alan’s offer of help had come with a price. He had a freelance job he needed Robert’s help with later. Robert had easily agreed, thinking maybe Alan did part-time landscaping or something. He had no clue he’d wind up here, like Adam in need of a fig leaf.
Robert’s only sense of relief lay in believing nobody in the class knew him. He’d just caught a glimpse of their faces as he’d entered the studio, and, gratefully, none had looked familiar. Now all he had to do was stay put for the next ninety minutes, ignoring the fact that his…uh…personal attributes were on open display. The fact was, there was nothing personal about this. This was a centuries’ old practice concerning the rendering of art and