Happy reading!

6

Angela lightly clearing her throat finally gets me to move from where I'd melted into the floor. He's still smiling at me, softer now, a glow of mischief in those green eyes that still haunted me. They looked different today, brighter, the color of a deep emerald. Still breathtaking and I had to remind myself to inhale.

"We meet again." I put my hands behind my back, intertwining my fingers to keep myself grounded. There was something about Edward Cullen that left me off kilter, like a ship lost at sea. I had no idea how to act around him without making an utter fool of myself.

"Well, I am in need of some art." He takes a step in my direction, still about a foot away, but I swear it felt like he'd swallowed the room whole. Everything was centered on him. "Although, I would be lying if I said that was the only reason I came."

A squeak comes from behind me and I shoot Angela a look, but her back is to us as she rigorously scrubs the glass counter top around the register. She isn't fooling anyone.

I look back at Edward, taking a small step in his direction. "You have come to the right place. We have a lot of art. I don't know if I can help you with the other reason you came, though." I play coy, taking another small step toward him. His presence was magnetic, I couldn't help but gravitate toward him, wanting to be in his orbit.

He leans closer, voice low as he says, "You already have."

"Oh," is the only thing I can say in response. I've never been pursued before, and the fact that it was this man that was doing it, only made it better. I clear my throat, getting myself together. "Did you have anything specific in mind?" I asked, feeling hot. It was suddenly twenty thousand degrees in here.

"I have lots of things in mind." He smiles at me and it feels suggestive. "But I think I want to look around and see if anything calls to me."

"Okay," I motion around to the paintings on the walls. "we have a few up here, as you can see. These are mostly landscapes and abstracts. Most of our inventory is in the back, though." Did I mention we really needed to move to a larger space?

"Lead the way." He could get any girl he wanted with a smile like that.

Angela looks like she's about to explode when we walk by her, fanning herself as she mouths 'so hot'. I give her look, mouthing back 'cool it'. Only one of us could freak out right now, and I call dibs.

"You really do have a lot of art." He takes in the paintings leaning against the walls and shelves that went as high as the ceiling. It wasn't the best organization, but we were working with limited space at this point. I'd been particularly prolific lately.

I watch as he walks over to a painting of a woman whose face is obscured in shadows, her dress blending into the mist that surrounds her. He traces his finger softly down the side of her face, and I swear I can feel it.

"Bella," he shakes his head as he goes on to the next, one of a field of blooming flowers blowing in the wind, two children running down the side of the hill leading down to the valley. "These are impeccable." The awe in his voice makes goosebumps form on my arms.

"Thank you." I shuffle on my feet as he looks over each painting with a care that almost rivals my own. He's not just observing them, he's taking them in, taking the time to understand each piece. That made him that much more attractive.

"How long have you been painting?" He looks over at me, stopping me in my tracks. When he looked at me, I swear he was looking right to through to the heart of me, and it stunned me every time.

I shrug, "My whole life." I can't remember a specific moment that I started painting. When I think back, it's always there, an ever present friend that got me through a lot of things through out my life, including my parents' divorce. It had gotten ugly and painting was my escape. "I can't remember a time I didn't paint."

"You've definitely found your calling. These don't even look like paintings."

After I recovered from his admiration, I showed him other paintings based on what he told me liked. Mostly landscapes, which surprised considering their office space was so modern, but then again, that may have been more Jane's doing than his.

"I love this one." He points to the painting that I'd just brought over from home. The one I started the day I ran into him in Starbucks. "It really reminds me of my home town. There were trees everywhere." He hasn't been able to take his eyes off the painting, making my heart beat wildly. What were the chances he'd pick this one?

"So, is this the one, then?"

"Hm," he studies the piece a few moments more before shaking his head. "No, I think I want something original."

"But you just talked about how much you loved this one."

"I know." He looks at me with an almost smile. "But if I take this one, I won't have seeing you to look forward to.

I opened my mouth to say something, but no wards came out. I had no idea how the hell to respond to that.

"Although," he steps toward me, fully closing the distance between us. The tips of his sneakers touching mine. "There is a solution to that."

"What's that?" I swallow. He's so close I can feel his body heat.

"I could take you out on a date."

Anyone else doing a happy dance that he finally asked her out?

See you next time!