Raising Hell Read Online Free PDF

on the canvas, I don’t need you in the room while I work. You can move out then. If you want to.”
    “Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say.
    “The compensation is fair,” he continued. “And if the work is licensed for any sort of advertising purpose, then you’ll receive a royalty on top of it.”
    He looked at her, his gaze so hard and penetrating that it seemed as if he was looking at her soul. “I want this, Delilah. I want you. Tell me that you agree. Tell me that I can paint you. That I can capture your soul on canvas for all the world to see. Don’t deny yourself this opportunity. Say yes, Delilah. Say yes, and all your dreams will come true.”

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Chapter Four
    N ick kept his eyes on her face as he waited for her response. It would be yes, of course. No woman had denied him. Still, though, his body tensed with anticipation, and when her sweet lips parted, he leaned closer to hear her response.
    Her first words were a whisper, and so startling that he was certain that even with the exceptional hearing that heredity had provided him, he must have misheard. “What?” he asked. “I couldn’t quite—”
    “Will you sketch me?” She spoke almost too loud this time, her chin lifting as she voiced the query. It was exactly what he’d thought she’d said, and it was no less bewildering so many decibels louder.
    “First, yes. A few rough sketches to test poses, compositions. But that will take only a little time, and soon your image will come alive in oil on canvas.”
    She shook her head. “No, you misunderstand.” She took a sip of her wine, then lifted her eyes to meet his. Her cheeks were bright red, but from the wine or from embarrassment, he didn’t know. “Will you sketch me now?”
    “Here? Right now?” He looked around the bar, with its polished oak and equally polished people. Nothing in the room seemed real, and certainly nothing in here was worthy of his brush. Nothing, that is, except her.
    “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    The question seemed simple enough, but she took her time answering. “I want to know how it feels. If it’s worth it.”
    “If what’s worth it?”
    “Chasing dreams, I guess. Especially when this isn’t about ambition.”
    He found himself leaning closer, looking at her with interest. He told himself there was no danger in that; the better he knew her, the easier it was to grab hold of her soul. But while he wouldn’t quite let himself admit it, the truth was far more complicated. And, in a way, far more treacherous. He wanted to know what made this woman tick. Not so that he could fulfill his father’s wishes, but simply because, for the first time in his life, he wanted to know more about a woman than how she’d look in the early-morning light.
    “Isn’t everything about ambition?” he asked. His ambition was twofold. Become an even greater artist. And prove his worth to his father.
    “Maybe,” she said, her eyes lighting with her smile. “But if that’s the case, then it’s a question of choice. Am I choosing to pursue the right ambition? Because, honestly, I’d almost talked myself out of it.”
    “Out of modeling?” He couldn’t help the shock that crept into his voice. “And deprive the world of your beauty?”
    “You’re sweet,” she said. “But I didn’t come to New York because I wanted to give the world a present,” she said. “I was a little more selfish than that.”
    “Really?” Without thinking, he took her hand, tracing his finger up and down between hers. He saw her breath hitch, realized the effect he was having on her, and smiled. “I know all about selfish tendencies,” he said. “Right now, for example, I want to touch you. And I intend to pursue that goal most selfishly until you tell me not to.”
    Another shaky breath, and then she said, “I’m not saying anything.”
    “Good.” Her hand was warm in his, almost burning. “Now it’s your turn,” he said. “I told you how I am selfish. Tell me now about you.