When the Wind Chimes - Mary Ting Page 0,18

well, I had to take my mind out of that naughty place.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing.” I could probably die right here, right now.

I should definitely die right now.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to start today over. I wanted him to yell at me or say something, but he’d kept quiet. All I’d wanted was to take my mind off things, to do something I loved. Didn’t I at least deserve that?

“You.” He squinted, his voice soft. “You were in ... the cab.”

He remembers me? And that voice, his smooth baritone sparked fireflies in my stomach, and made me feel so alive that it scared the living daylights out of me. How could this stranger inflict such want in so few words?

I bit my bottom lip and ran a hand down my hair. Oh, that wasn’t good. I hunched my shoulders.

His eyes grew bigger. “You got paint in your ... hair.”

I said nothing, unable to meet his gaze, and nodded frantically—my way of thanking him for letting me know.

“You got some on your face.” He extended his hand toward my cheek but dropped it instead.

Please leave before I make a complete fool of myself. Well, too late for that, but maybe just leave before I do worse.

He kept glancing between the colorful canvas and back to me.

I finally met his eyes, eyes that looked intently back at me. His stare gave me the shivers, stripping me bare. I didn’t know what it was about him, but his presence made me nervous. He sucked up all the air in the room—in a good way—and I couldn’t breathe.

I let my eyes roam about his face, memorizing the details—my artist’s habit, or so I told myself. I wanted to run my fingers along his dark brooding eyebrows, down his perfect nose, curve around his high cheekbones, and caress those kissable lips. I had the urge to create a sculpture of this perfect Mr. Medici. This flawless being that looked and stood like a Greek god.

His impressive physique made me imagine him as Zeus, or perhaps Poseidon, who had walked straight out of a romantic fantasy novel, with a taste for mortal women.

I really needed to stop reading those books.

I took a step back, composing myself with the little dignity I had left. “Mr. Medici, how may I help you?”

He stood silent, just examining me. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he broke away.

“I think you did enough.” He pivoted sharply, his dress shoes tapping against the tile.

I shook my head in disbelief as I watched him strut out the door. I was the unicorn and he was the skeleton. He’d just eaten me alive, taken all my glitter power and magic with him. I didn’t know why I cared.

Oh, yes I do. He might be one of Abby’s biggest customers. This could cost her.

“Mr. Medici. Wait.” I sprinted after him, but he was already out the front door.

A warm breeze wrapped around me like a cozy blanket and the door closed. Wind chimes tinkled faintly—soft and soothing, like the caress of an invisible hand on my back.

I rubbed my arms. Funny, I’d never noticed the door chime. I’d almost swear the chime hadn’t sounded when I’d walked in.

I released a long heavy sigh, almost forgetting about Stella at the desk, as the peaceful melody lingered on the air.

Stella looked away from the computer screen to me with her mouth open and her gray eyes glistening. “What happened? And what happened to you? What did you guys do?”

I wanted to ask myself the same question, but a laugh burst out of her as if she’d held it a bit too long. Then I joined her because, why not?

“I got paint on him. Did you see?” I eased on the sofa in the center and extended palms out, careful not to touch anything.

“I did.” She snorted. “He looked like he had been attacked by an artistic octopus. And so do you. Or it looks like you two were having some fun together.” She waggled her eyebrows.

I flushed. “Oh, no. Not what happened.” I almost shoved my hands to my face but stopped myself. “I should wash this off. Please tell me he’s not one of Abby’s big clients.”

“If I told you that, I would be lying. This is my second time seeing him, but then again, I’ve only been working here for two months. Abby said something about Mr. Medici stopping by once a month to check