Sullivan's Woman Read Online Free PDF

the walls. Easels were propped here and there, and a large table was scattered with paints and brushes and rags and bottles. There was a couch at the far end of the room, sitting there as if added in afterthought. Three wooden chairs were placed at odd intervals as if pushed aside by an impatient hand and left wherever they landed. There were two other stools, two inside doors, and a large goosenecked high-intensity lamp.
    â€œLook out the window,” Colin ordered abruptly. “I want a profile.”
    She obeyed. The vague annoyance she felt slipped away as she spotted a sparrow building a nest in the crook of an oak. The bird moved busily, carrying wisps of this and that in her beak. Patient and tenacious, she swooped and searched and built, then swooped again. Her wings caught the sun. Enchanted, Cassidy watched her. A quiet smile touched her lips and warmed her eyes.
    â€œWhat do you see?” Colin moved to her, and her absorption was so deep she neither jolted nor turned.
    â€œThat bird there.” She pointed as the sparrow made another quick dive. “Look how determined she is to finish that nest. The whole thing built from bits of string and grass and whatever other treasures sparrows find. We need bricks and concrete and prefabricated walls, but that little bird can build a perfectly adequate home out of next to nothing, without hands, without tools, without a union representative. Marvelous, don’t you think?” Cassidy turned her head and smiled. He was closer than she had imagined, his face near hers in order for him to follow her line of vision. As she turned, he shifted his eyes from the window and caught hers. She felt a sudden jolt, as if she had stood too quickly and lost her inner balance.
    â€œYou might be even more perfect than I had originally thought,” Colin said. He brushed her hair behind one shoulder.
    She suddenly remembered her resolve to be businesslike. “Mr. Sullivan—”
    â€œColin,” he interrupted. He continued to arrange her hair. “Or just Sullivan, if you like.”
    â€œColin, then,” she said patiently. “I had no idea who you were last night. It didn’t occur to me until I was standing outside The Gallery.” She shifted, faintly disturbed that he remained standing so close. “Of course, I’m flattered that you want to paint me, but I’d like to know what’s expected of me, and—”
    â€œYou’re expected to hold a pose for twenty minutes without fidgeting,” he began while he pushed her hair forward again, then back over her other shoulder. His fingers brushed Cassidy’s neck and caused her to frown. He appeared not to notice. “You’re expected to follow instructions and keep quiet unless I tell you otherwise. You’re expected to be on time and not to babble about leaving early so you can meet your boyfriend.”
    â€œI was on time,” Cassidy retorted and tossed her head so that his arrangement of her hair flew into confusion. “You didn’t tell me to come to the back, and I wandered around until I found the right door.”
    â€œBright, too,” he said dryly. “Your eyes darken dramatically when your Irish is up. Who named you Cassidy?”
    â€œIt’s my mother’s family name,” she said shortly. She opened her mouth to speak again.
    â€œI knew some Cassidys in Ireland,” he commented as he lifted her hands to examine them.
    â€œI don’t know any of my mother’s family,” Cassidy murmured, disconcerted by the feel of his hands on hers. “She died when I was born.”
    â€œI see.” Colin turned her palms up. “Your hands are very narrow-boned. And your father?”
    â€œHis family was from Devon. He died four years ago. I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”
    â€œIt has to do with everything.” He lifted his eyes from her hands but kept them in his. “You get your