Sculpting Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

wasn't sure if he'd answer this late in the afternoon, but I knew that the number rang a phone in the cavernous warehouse that Onyx called his home. Half of the warehouse's huge interior was set aside for his sculpting studio, but the other half served as Onyx's personal quarters. He hid his personal space behind a large folding wooden screen on the times when I'd previously visited the warehouse, so I'd never seen his living area for myself.
    A little part of me was dying to find out what Onyx's personal living quarters looked like, but I also knew what kind of trouble I'd get into if he invited me to take a look for myself. That curiosity would end with me sweaty and naked in his bed, probably terminally dehydrated after twenty-four straight hours of lovemaking...
    Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing to find out, after all.
    As I listened to the phone ring, however, I shook my head, trying to dislodge these treacherous thoughts. Focus on the job for right now! Any wandering thoughts of what Onyx's smooth skin might feel like pressed against mine, considerations of where he could put his incredible sculpting fingers to best use, could come later.
    At fifteen rings, just as I was giving up hope and started to lower the phone from my ear, I heard a click.
    "Hello?" Onyx's rich, deep voice; he never introduced himself until he knew who was calling.
    "Hey, Onyx." A little part of me wondered, as always, whether that was really the man's name. It seemed too perfect - surely, it had to be an adopted moniker? It was the name that I put on the man's checks from the art gallery, so perhaps he'd legally changed his birth name to this single word. "It's me."
    "Ah, Rebecca." I always shivered at the way that Onyx said my name; his lips seemed to almost lovingly caress the sound as it came from his mouth. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
    "No pleasure this time," I stated, pushing down the treacherous little voice inside my head that wondered just how amazing that pleasure could possibly turn out. "Instead, I've got a couple questions about another artist."
    "Seeing another artist behind my back?" he asked, putting on a tone of mock injury. "Why, Rebecca, I'm hurt! And here I thought that we had something special between us."
    To tell the truth, I really didn't know how to describe whatever amorphous deal Onyx and I actually had between the two of us. Just like my budding relationship with Carter, dealing with Onyx was... complicated, to say the least. When I first met him, he seemed to assign himself the goal of seducing me, and he'd managed to come very close to making it all the way into my end zone on a couple different occasions.
    Of course, I knew that Onyx and I didn't have a chance of making anything long-term last between us. He drew me like a moth to a flame, and I knew that, as the moth, going into that flame would be deadly. Still, when he crooked his finger at me, heat in his eyes as he swept his hands over my body and made me come alive, I felt powerless to resist his advances...
    And that, I reminded myself, is why I'm calling him, instead of dropping by his studio in person.
    "Trust me, I'm not interested in adding another man to my life romantically," I told Onyx. "I just need to know how I can get in contact with this artist."
    Onyx sighed. "Always business with you. Who's the artist?"
    "Dean Benjamin de St. James."
    For a moment, Onyx went silent. When he spoke again, the teasing, seductive note had vanished entirely from his voice. "What about him?"
    "He's managed to catch my uncle Preston's eye, apparently," I replied. "Preston wants me to recruit him for the gallery. I tried looking him up online, but I can't seem to find any way to get in contact with the man-"
    "You won't," Onyx interrupted. "He is someone who... values his privacy, to say the least." He sighed, and I could picture him shaking his head silently at my naivete. "Look, why don't you come by tomorrow morning?"
    Even though the invitation sounded