Sullivan's Woman Read Online Free PDF Page B

eyes and hair from your mother’s family, and your skin and bone structure from your father’s. It’s a face of contradictions you have, Cassidy St. John, and precisely what I need. Your hair must have a dozen varying shades and it looks as though you’ve just taken your head from a pillow. You’re wise not to attempt to discipline it. Your eyes go just past Celtic-blue into violet and add a touch of the exotic with the shape of them. They tend to dream. But your bones are all English aristocracy. Your mouth tips the balance again, promising a passion the cool British complexion denies. Pure skin, just a hint of rose under the ivory. You haven’t walked through life without having to scale a few walls, yet there’s a definite aura of the ingenue around you. The painting I want to do must have certain elements. I need very specific qualities in my model. You have them.” He paused and inclined his head. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
    She was staring at him, transfixed, trying to see herself as he described. Did her heritage so heavily influence her looks? “I’m not at all certain that it does,” Cassidy murmured. She sighed, then her eyes found him again. “But I’m vain enough to want Colin Sullivan to paint me and destitute enough to need the job.” She smiled. “Shall I be immortal when you’ve finished? I’ve always wanted to be.”
    Colin laughed, and the sound was warm and free in the big room. He squeezed her hands, then surprisingly brought them to his lips. “You’ll do me, Cass.”
    Cassidy’s fumbling reply was interrupted as the studio door swung open.
    â€œColin, I need to—” The woman who swirled into the room halted abruptly and fixed sharp eyes on Cassidy. “Sorry,” she said as her gaze drifted to their joined hands. “I didn’t know you were occupied.”
    â€œNo matter, Gail,” Colin returned easily. “You know I lock the door when I’m working seriously. This is Cassidy St. John, who’ll be sitting for me. Cassidy, Gail Kingsley, a very talented artist who manages The Gallery.”
    Gail Kingsley was striking. She was tall and thin as a reed with a long, triangular face set off by a spiky cap of vivid red hair. Everything about her was vital and compelling. Her eyes were piercingly green and darkly accented, her mouth was wide and slashed in uncompromising scarlet. Gold hoops poked through the spikes of vibrant hair at her ears. Her dress was flowing, without definite line, a chaotic mix of greens washed over silk. The effect was bold and breathtaking. She moved forward, and her entire body seemed charged with nervous energy. Even her movements were quick and sharp, her eyes probing as they rested on Cassidy’s face. There was something in the look that made Cassidy instantly uncomfortable. It was a purposeful intrusion while it remained completely impersonal.
    â€œGood bones,” Gail commented in a dismissing tone. “But the coloring’s rather dull, don’t you think?”
    Cassidy spoke with annoyed directness. “We can’t all be redheads.”
    â€œTrue enough,” Colin said and, lifting a brow at Cassidy, turned to Gail. “What was it you needed? I want to get back to work.”
    There is a certain aura around people who have been intimate, Cassidy thought. It shows in a look, a gesture, a tone of voice. In the moment Gail’s eyes left Cassidy to meet Colin’s, she knew they were, or had been, lovers. Cassidy felt a vague sense of disappointment. Uncomfortable, she tried vainly to pull her hands from Colin’s. She received an absentminded frown.
    â€œIt’s Higgin’s
Portrait of a Girl.
We’ve been offered five thousand, but Higgin won’t accept unless you approve. I’d like to have it firmed up today.”
    â€œWho made the offer?”
    â€œCharles Dupres.”
    â€œTell