One Night in A Bar Read Online Free PDF

work, don’t you think you should come and see the product you’ll be representing?” He turned on his heel and stalked away while she stood there feeling like an idiot. She picked up her jaw and hurried after him.
    “I’m sorry. I’m off balance and not being very professional. I really do want to see the pieces. And not just for work reasons. I know you didn’t believe me before, but I’m a huge fan of your work.”
    He didn’t look at her, just continued down the street in silence.
    “Where are we going?” she asked at last. They’d been walking for fifteen minutes, and her feet were beginning to ache in her high-heeled pumps.
    “My place,” he said curtly, and she shut up. She knew that his studio was at his home, and anticipation welled. She would get to see where he worked!
    He stopped in front of a condo building and produced a key. Inside, they rode the elevator up to the top floor in silence. The doors opened, and Karen couldn’t prevent a gasp.
    The elevator opened directly into the apartment, and the first thing she saw was the magnificent view from the living room windows. Floor to ceiling, the glass panes ran the length of the room and displayed the city in all its glory.
    “Dear God, how can you concentrate on work when you have this?” Her wave took in the windows and the incredible vista.
    He shrugged. “You get used to it. The studio’s through here.”
    Obediently, she followed him down a short hallway to a door at the end. The room beyond was clearly a working space. The walls were lined with shelves and cabinets, small finished and unfinished sculptures scattered amongst them. The middle of the room held a large table covered in tools and sketches, and over by the bare window were several cloth-draped objects. A door off to the right led through to an en suite bathroom, confirming her suspicion that this was supposed to be the master bedroom.
    He crossed to the window and whipped the drapes away, revealing the art beneath. Completely distracted, Karen moved to examine the pieces. They were exactly as he’d described, and yet more—absolutely gorgeous. Her fingers itched to stroke along the clean lines, and she turned to ask permission.
    “Can I—” she broke off at the sight of Daniel with a sketchpad in his hand. He frowned as he watched her, his pencil gliding over the paper. “What are you doing?” she asked, lifting a hand to smooth her hair.
    “Nothing,” he replied. “Go ahead, you can touch them.”
    She hesitated, torn, but went to see what he was drawing. He tilted the pad away from her as she neared.
    “Are you,” she paused, unsure how to ask without sounding egotistical.
    “Am I…?” He sounded distracted.
    “Are you drawing me?”
    “Yes.” He squinted at her. “You’ve tensed up. Just keep looking at the statues. You can touch them.”
    Karen swallowed. “Why—why are you drawing me?”
    He’d returned his attention to his sketchpad. “Because the look on your face called to me.” He looked from the pad to her and back again. “It’s gone.” He tossed the pad onto the table and placed a hand at the small of her back. “Come on, come and see some of the smaller pieces for the exhibit.” He steered her towards the shelves on one side of the room.
    As they passed the table, she craned her neck, trying to see what he’d drawn, but he was moving too quickly. Disappointed, she turned her attention to the sculptures in front of her. She listened as Daniel identified each one and tried to ignore the fact that he stood only inches away, his warmth bathing her.
    “You’re not really listening to me, are you?”
    She jumped. “Uh, no, I mean, yes, of course I was listening.”
    His mouth was quirked in a faint smile, his dark eyes laughing at her. “No, you weren’t. But that’s okay. What were you thinking about?”
    “Nothing! I—I mean, I was listening—”
    He chuckled, the rumbly sound sending a shudder down her spine. “Whatever you were