Lost & Found Love. Laura Browning

glanced around the studio. “I—I can do that.” She glanced back at him, and Joseph nearly took a step back at the loneliness he saw in the depths of her gaze. “Would you—do you have time—I mean I know it’s Sunday, and you’ve probably got another service later, but could you sit for me again? Just for an hour?”

      “Sure.” When he saw the relief in her expression, he knew he would do almost anything to keep that haunted look off her face. Together they began to straighten the mess. Joseph noticed she was careful to avoid showing him any of her other paintings, but big deal. Some people were superstitious about that kind of thing.

      “Would you sing to me again?” she asked as she set her jar of brushes back on the table next to her now upright easel.

      “Yes,” he replied in a voice suddenly gone husky. All day and all night, if need be.

      They parted ways on the second floor, Tabby to her room and Joe to the back stairs leading into the kitchen. A few minutes later, Joe glanced around the airy room as he finished the scrambled cheese and tofu he’d sautéed with mushrooms and basil.

      It had taken no more than a quick glance in her refrigerator to figure out she didn’t eat meat…. And he had tried to tempt her with burgers on the grill. Way to go, Taylor. For a man who truly appreciated the finer points of a good cheeseburger, this could be a problem. Tabby leaned against the counter nearby, watching him cook.

      They took their plates to the kitchen table, the occasional tinkle of utensils against dishes the only sound.

      “Where is your cat? I never see her when you’re around.”

      Tabby shrugged. “Here and there,” she said vaguely. “Probably perched in a tree. Katie Scarlett is an observer of the world. She was dropped at the shelter. I think she’d been abused.”

      “You named your cat after Scarlett O’Hara?” Joe asked with a chuckle.

      Tabby grinned. “I had an old tom I picked up off the streets. He had one eye and a rather rakish air about him, so I named him Rhett.” She shrugged. “It seemed to fit.”

      “Shadow might be as fitting for her, as invisible as she always seems to be.”

      Tabby smiled slightly. “Katie is a creature of the night.”

      “Like her mistress?” Joe asked, arching a thick brow. “I see you burning a lot of midnight oil.”

      Tabby shifted, suddenly seeming a little ill at ease. Joe was sorry for that. “I paint when the mood strikes me.” She jumped up and put their plates into the sink. “Speaking of which, you promised to sit…and sing.”

      He followed her upstairs, his gaze locked appreciatively on the gentle sway of her hips beneath the filmy mid-calf length skirt she had on. Her hair hung loose, still damp from her shower, falling sleek and straight to just below her waist. Such long hair was rare these days. Most women chopped it off short. Joe gulped, wondering what it would feel like spread out over him.

      When they reached the studio, she casually replaced her painting of him on the easel before she picked up a portion of canvas frame they must have missed. When she caught him watching her, she blushed.

      “I’m sorry you saw this. I would have eventually stripped them and painted over them.”

      “Tabby, the one I saw was very, very good,” he commented.

      She paused and looked at him steadily. “They would never be for sale. They were personal. Call them therapy if you like. It helps me work out things, you know? And this,” she threw out, swinging her elegant hand in an arc to encompass the ruined pictures, “was simply the final part of that therapy.”

      He could see the subject was closed. He had yet to gain her trust, but he got that. “Where do you want me?”

      She glanced up from where she was already mixing colors on her palette. “The stool where you were the other day is fine.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulders and began to fill in the canvas with broad strokes. She stared at him intently, but not in a way that made him uncomfortable. “Sing for me,” she prompted softly. “I want to hear angels.”

      He felt himself blush and she laughed. It was a beautiful sound, and the effect on her expression was startling, turning her classic beauty into something earthy and sensual. Joe could only stare.

      After an hour, she smiled. “Thank you. I don’t want to keep you any longer. You must have evening service to prepare for.”

      “I do. Can I ask you a stupid question?”

      Tabby smiled quizzically. “Sure.”

      “Just what were you going to eat last night if you had stayed at Evan and Jenny’s house? I mean, it’s obvious you’re a vegetarian.”

      Tabby shrugged. “Salad, potatoes…then as soon as I got home a big bowl of hummus and crackers.”

      “Hummus?”

      She laughed. “It’s a mixture of chick peas, sesame paste, and a few other ingredients all mashed together. Lots of protein and healthy fat.”

      “Mmm. Kinda partial to cheeseburgers, myself.”

      Tabby tilted her head. “You did all right with the tofu earlier.”

      “I was trying to impress you, and I didn’t want my halo to slip.” He was unrolling his sleeves and trying to button his cuffs again when she put down her palette and came around to help him.

      “Here,” she offered quietly, “let me.”

      He watched her bent head as she quickly fastened his cuffs. Acting on instinct and the urge overwhelming him, Joe lifted her chin with his fingers, but while his eyes lingered on her soft lips, he simply leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her forehead. Slowly, he reminded himself.

      “Thanks,” he murmured. She nodded and turned away from him to go back to her painting. He puffed his lips in frustration, unable to tell if it had affected her at all. But why should it? All he’d done was kiss her forehead. Smooth. He watched her a moment longer. Tabby was back in her own world. Was it even a place she would allow someone else to see?

      He shook his head and walked quickly down the steps. When he stepped out onto the veranda, Katie Scarlett opened her eyes from her resting place on his suit coat, uttered one last purr, and leaped down onto the porch to rub gently around his legs. Joe smiled at the cat as he picked up his coat and tie. The nagging feeling he was being watched made him glance toward the street where two ladies in flowered dresses now scurried down the sidewalk. Joe closed his eyes briefly and groaned. It looked like the church ladies were already on full alert.

      * * * *

      Tabby stared at the emerging portrait of Joseph and smiled. It did almost appear that he had a halo. She hadn’t seen Joe at all on Monday but chalked it up to him already having plans for Labor Day. For her part, it gave her time to work on his painting as well as go over her lesson plans for the upcoming week. She would be at the elementary school all day on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and the other three days of the week would be split between middle and high school classes since both shared the same campus.

      Nerves made it difficult to get to sleep Monday night. Her student teaching hadn’t been nearly as nerve-wracking because she’d always worked with a veteran teacher, but now she was on her own. What if the kids didn’t like her? Tabby shook her head. That was silly. She had gotten along just fine with the students during her student teaching, particularly the younger ones. Everything would be fine.

      But everything was not fine. When she hurried outside in the morning, her car wouldn’t start. It was too far to walk. She looked at her bike and her watch. She had time to ride. It would mean being on time instead of early. With a resigned sigh, she ran back upstairs, pulled on her cycling pants, stuffed her no wrinkle skirt into her backpack, grabbed her helmet, and rode her bicycle to school. Since there was no bicycle rack at the elementary school, Tabby had to go in and ask the principal if it was permissible