Wishing Beach - Heather Burch Page 0,77

was emotion and passion in every stroke of the brush. Leaves were more than leaves, branches, more than branches, and when I stepped away from the painting, I felt like it had given me something. Like I’d shared something with it.” Where had all that come from? Angela was breathless.

Marco’s smile was slow and mesmerizing. “Angela.” Her name rolled off his tongue as if he were savoring it. “You understand all that art is.” He had a faint accent that suggested island living. It was not unpleasant to her ears. “Are you familiar with my other paintings?”

“I looked through your brochure. I am quite interested in commissioning some work.” Angela turned away from him lest she forget the purpose of his visit. She stopped in the center of the spacious living room.

Marco raised his brows. “You enjoyed my brochure?” A smile played at the corners of his mouth. The twinkle in his eyes told her what he hadn’t said, You like the back cover?

Ignoring the innuendo, Angela continued. “The Wishing Beach painting was a favorite. You know that spot is right out here.” She stopped at her massive window and gestured toward the water.

“You have a keen eye.”

“I’ve always loved art, especially oil paintings.”

“Angela.” Her name again, rolling off his tongue as if this time he’d test it to see if it was a good fit for her. Finally, he said, “Ah, yes, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” It was said as a matter of fact in his mind now, not as flattery.

And that, she was fast learning, was Marco. He said what he thought, honestly and sincerely. She guessed that was what Willow meant when she said, he doesn’t play you.

Different ... but interesting, Angela thought. Although it had been so long since Angela had been in the singles world, everything was interesting and different to her.

The next hour went by quickly. A good share of it in conversation about art in general, the styles, the techniques, the old masters, the new kids on the block. Marco was the first one she’d crossed paths with in years, who loved art as much as she. By ten thirty, Angela decided on the work she wanted created, with Marco’s professional input. “I love the Wishing Beach scene. I would like something similar for my main piece in the room. But I’d like it done in an impressionistic, even surreal style, with a limited, subdued color palette. You know, all color and movement.” She was swishing her hands and her body, gently swaying back and forth. “Nothing defined.”

Marco studied her. He frowned in deep thought, his head in vague motion following her as she swayed. Finally, he spoke. “I believe I know who you are. I’ve caught your spirit.” He met her gaze with his serious, glinting dark eyes.

Angela was impressed.

“But first, I’ll make a small test canvas for your approval.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “That sounds good.”

“When I come back with it, we will then do some measuring for the exact sizes. I’ll be photographing the beach in all kinds of weather and at all times of the day. So, don’t be alarmed if you see me down there.”

When Angela closed the door behind Marco, she was extremely happy about the way the meeting had gone. He was confident and professional. Marco was everything his brochure had promised.

Friday couldn’t come soon enough for Angela. She and Ryan had decided on two o’clock. Angela was ringing his doorbell right on time. When Ryan answered and she stepped inside there was no hesitation on either part to fall into each other’s arms. It just seemed natural. The kiss that followed … well, it just seemed right.

“I missed you so much.” She could hear the smile in Ryan’s voice as he rocked her back and forth in his tight hug.

Angela sighed. “I missed you too.”

“Good! That’s what I like to hear.” He let her go, taking her hand. “Come on in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us something to drink.” Letting go of her hand he started in the direction of the kitchen. “You want iced tea or fruit spritzer?”

“Tea is fine, thank you.” She followed him into the kitchen. “I can help.”

“Well, it’s not hard.” Ryan reached in the cupboard for two glasses. “I’ll let you in on my secret, either choice comes in a can.” He proceeded to fill the glasses with ice.

Angela knew that if she could see into his beautiful eyes behind the sunglasses, there would be a twinkle,