One Summer In New York. Trish Wylie

have several meetings today. Can you manage the shopping on your own?”

      She snickered. “I’ve been doing the grocery shopping since I was seven years old. I think I can handle a New York City supermarket.”

      “I am the one who would have trouble.”

      “But after that I’ll need you for the painting. I have the canvas size I want. And I’ll use acrylic so it will dry quickly. We’ll hang it later this afternoon, and no one will be any the wiser that I only painted it today.”

      With a busy day ahead, he’d selectively forgotten that he had agreed to her doing a painting of him. He had no time for posing. Although a painting by her would be a very eye-catching and convincing symbol that they were really a couple.

      Plus, it would put him in proximity with her from midday. Which he had to admit he’d be looking forward to.

      He mentally reprimanded himself for that thought.

      In front of the building, Ethan watched Holly walk down the block while Leonard held the car door open for him. Her glossy hair swung to and fro. It was another gloomy day, but dry at the moment. Her jeans and that black leather jacket she seemed to favor would be sufficient for her shopping trip. Why he was concerned with how she was dressed for the weather was baffling. And disturbing.

      But what would a Florida girl know about winter? She might catch cold...

      Leonard ferried him from one appointment to the next. The low-income housing project in the Bronx was behind schedule and over budget. He pored over blueprints with the architect until they found a way to enlarge the kitchens for the exterior-facing units. The architect was feuding with the contractor over the selection of materials, but that always seemed to be the case. Ethan was able to smooth some ruffled feathers.

      He stopped at the hotel where the shareholders’ gala would be held on Saturday. Gave his authorization for the layout of the ballroom. Visualizing the room full of formally dressed people, he could picture them raising their champagne glasses as Aunt Louise offered a toast to him and Holly. His bride-to-be would charm the crowd with her engaging smile and shimmering gown...

      In the silence of the empty ballroom, Ethan’s heart pleaded for something he couldn’t fully grasp. A dull ache thudded in the center of his chest.

      Swiftly shoving those confusing feelings aside, he hurried out through the hotel doors to Leonard’s car and his next meeting.

      The multi-use development in Chelsea had come a long way since he’d last seen it. As he strode through he offered dozens of hellos to the many workers laboring on the project’s five buildings. It was for this large venture that he’d offered Holly the commission to do the artwork. The opportunity that had sealed the negotiations for her to agree to pose as his fiancée.

      Ethan’s interior designer had been intrigued to hear about the up-and-coming artist from Florida he had brought onto the job. He had provided Stella with Holly’s website address.

      Midday, he returned to the apartment. Holly must not have had any trouble with the slow cooker, because the aroma of cooking meat practically had him salivating.

      “My, my...” he said as he removed his coat and hung it on the rack.

      The open area by the living room window had been turned into a temporary artist’s studio.

      “I’ve been working.”

      “I can see.”

      The easel they had bought yesterday was unpacked and in use. A side table with a tarp thrown over it for protection had become a paint station. Another tarp covered the area’s floor.

      “What have you done with my apartment?”

      “Hey, I thought it was my apartment.”

      “Tonight it will be our apartment.”

      “Don’t worry. I’ll clean it all up after I do the painting of you.”

      “What do we have here?”

      Three pastel drawings on paper lay on the floor. Moving vehicles was their theme. One was a bright yellow taxi done in abstracted horizontal lines that made it look as if it was in motion. Ditto for a blue city bus motoring along. And likewise for a silver train car that appeared to be whizzing by.

      “I was working out some ideas. Will there be a valet and transportation station at the Chelsea development?”

      Of course. He nodded with immediate understanding. Paintings like this would be stylish and hip, and convey the movement of the city. They’d be perfect. Even if their marriage arrangement proved to be the wrong move, Ethan was at least sure he’d hired an artist who would produce what he needed for the multi-million-dollar project.

      “Excellent.”

      “We’d better not waste any time. When can you be ready to sit for me?”

      A grin tried to crack at his mouth. “Let me just wash up. Dinner smells delicious.”

      Minutes later, he stepped onto the tarp of her studio area.

      “I am ready for you,” he said bravely, with arms outstretched.

      In reality, he didn’t know what to expect. Was not at all comfortable with how Holly might portray him. He reminded himself that this was ultimately for the good of Aunt Louise. He could put up with a little uneasiness for the sake of her wellbeing.

      “I’ll have you sitting on the stool.” Holly, all business, gestured for him to take his place.

      She studied him intently. Backed away to get one perspective. Inched to the side for another. Then came in close. So close he could feel the heat of her body, which made him want to do anything but sit still.

      “What are you deciding on?”

      “The perspective. I think I’ll do it at an angle that’s a partial profile.”

      “Will it be only my face?”

      She ran a finger across his upper chest from shoulder to shoulder to illustrate the cut-off point. Blood pumped double-time to every inch of him she touched. He instinctively leaned away.

      “Don’t worry. I won’t bite.”

      His voice came out a jagged growl. “It was not you I was worried about.”

      She smiled quizzically for several beats. His chest muscles continued to vibrate from her touch.

      It occurred to him that for all the questions they’d asked each other about favorite things and childhood memories, they hadn’t talked about past relationships.

      Had a man broken her heart? Had she broken someone’s? Was she looking for love?

      Did she wonder about him?

      Love wasn’t on the bargaining table in their business deal. He’d never loved. Didn’t love. Wouldn’t love. That was a contract signed a long time ago.

      Holly programmed some upbeat music into her phone and began. She wanted to do a preliminary pencil drawing on paper, and when she was satisfied with that move on to paint and canvas.

      With a last adjustment to his angle, she requested, “Try not to move.”

      “Do I need to be silent?”

      “I’ll let you know when I’m sketching your mouth. Just keep your head still when you talk.”

      With his face turned toward the window, it was odd to feel her eyes on him when he couldn’t see her face. Odd, but spine-tingling. And erotic. He wished he could rip off his clothes and have her paint him in the nude.

      Holly made him want to let go of the well-bred and well-mannered businessman he was. With her, he wanted to howl naked under the moonlight. And to ravage her with the savage passion he kept tightly caged inside him.

      “Can you soften your facial expression?” she asked,