Brushing Off the Boss: A Half Moon Bay Novel (Entangled Bliss) (9 page)

“On second thought, don’t worry about it.” Sienna turned away and strode across to the door, her protective work boots making a satisfying clump as she walked. “I’m going back down to the kiln. I’ll lock up when I leave here.” She was almost to the door when warm fingers descended on her shoulder. She turned and looked up at Jack, knowing she was being snarky, but the unwanted feelings bubbled to the surface as the smell of his cologne surrounded her. “Thanks for checking on me anyway.”

His fingers held her lightly and her shoulder almost sizzled from the warmth of his touch. She shrugged his fingers off. “What now?”

“I was going to wait for you to finish in case your car won’t start.” He held her gaze. “Would you mind if I came down and watched you work? When you’re finished I’ll show you my pieces if you still want to see them.”

Sienna stepped back and leaned against the doorframe. Her heartbeat was picking up, and her hands were trembling a little. A strange light feeling in her arms and legs matched the fluttery feeling in her chest. The hard wood of the doorframe pressed against her back and she focused on that as she slipped her hands into the pocket of the protective apron.

She hadn’t eaten. She needed to eat.
That’s why I’m all shaky.
It’s nothing else.

Something shifted, just a little, and her resistance crumbed as all sensible thought took flight. She was tired of fighting it. Before she could stop herself, her hands came out from her pockets and she took a step toward him. Stepping up on her toes, she reached up, slid her hands up the front of his shirt, and held his face with both hands. His skin was warm beneath her fingers and the bristles of his unshaven chin rasped against her fingers.

“If we don’t get this out of the way, I’m not going to be able to focus on my work,” she whispered. She held his gaze and watched Jack’s lips head toward hers. She closed her eyes in anticipation, and the soft puff of his breath warmed her lips.

Then nothing. Apart from the touch of his forehead resting on hers.

She opened her eyes and pulled back away from him a little.

“I thought you wanted to keep us on a business level.” His voice was soft, but the husky note betrayed the way he was feeling.

Or she hoped it did. It wasn’t fair if she was the only one fighting this.

“You said no dates, so I thought that would mean no messing around, too.”

Laughter bubbled up through her chest, and Sienna didn’t fight it as the giggle spilled over. “Messing around?”

“Well, isn’t that what we were about to do?”

Sienna stepped back, relieved Jack had broken the tension building between them. “I guess it was. But you’re right. We’ll stick to what we agreed on.”

She turned on her heel and pushed the door open, and looked over her shoulder at him. “Come on, of course you can watch me work.”

Chapter Ten

A blast of warm air hit them as Sienna pushed the door open. Jack was surprised at the size of the room beneath the gallery, and his interest was piqued immediately. With a kiln room this large at his disposal, he could work around the clock if necessary to meet his deadline.

Once they sorted out who was going to work where.

Three small kilns were placed along the back wall, and two large tables ran along the center. Sculpting wax and containers of ground enamel filled a set of shelves beside the door. The tables were covered with a variety of small linear animal figures in various stages of the process. For a moment he forgot that Sienna was there as he wandered over to the table and picked up one of the small bronze figures. He held it up to the light and smiled as the colors merged into one another and deepened when he moved it around in his fingers.

“So?”

He glanced across at Sienna, and his smile grew. She was standing, hands on hips and a frown on her face.

“So what?”

“Do you think I’m kidding myself, or are they worthy of an exhibition?”

Jack held the small sculpture up to the light. It was a butterfly in the midst of flight, and its wings were enameled in a variety of blues from the palest eggshell in the middle, to a deep cobalt on the wingtips. He twirled it around. It was small and delicate, very different from his work.

“It’s beautiful. You’re very talented. But I already knew that from the frogs in the gallery.” He put it carefully back on the table and lifted his gaze to meet hers. “And I’m interested to hear about the process you use. The depth of color you’ve achieved has escaped me so far with my glazing, but my sculptures are life-size and it’s harder to get an even depth of color over the metal.”

Jack watched Sienna visibly relax beneath his gaze. She dropped her hands to her sides and rolled her shoulders. A small smile played about her lips, and the color in her cheeks deepened as a soft rosy tinge stained her skin. “Hmph…well, thanks.” If he didn’t know better, a slight lack of confidence was coming out from beneath her usual sassy exterior.

She walked to one of the kilns and turned the temperature gauge up. “Pull up a stool and you can watch me for a while.” She shot him a grin, and a jolt hit him in the solar plexus as her full lips curved upward. “Watch and learn.”

My pleasure
, thought Jack as he held her gaze. She was the first to look away as she turned to the kilns along the back wall.

Not sure about the learning, but the watching will be mighty enjoyable.

He slid onto the stool and leaned back against the counter when Sienna lifted the door of the kiln open with one fluid movement. She untied her apron and put it on the table before taking her long-sleeved shirt off and slipping the apron back on. Jack’s breath caught in his throat when she turned to the shelves next to the door and stretched high on her tiptoes to reach for a container of ground enamel. She wore a pair of shiny black leggings, which he was beginning to recognize as her signature work pants. The pants hugged her like a second skin, and the bright red sleeveless cropped T-shirt clung to her back. The heat protective apron covered her from shoulder to knee in the front, and only the ties crossed behind her.

She turned and glanced across at him as she placed the enamel on the table and slid across a crate filled with pieces of copper and bronze. His gaze lingered on her long, narrow fingers, watching her lift the pieces carefully and place them in a row along the edge of the table. After she removed the uncolored metal shapes, she lifted the crate back onto the shelves, and Jack dropped his gaze to the well-defined muscles flexing at the top of her arms. Her small biceps were sculpted, and her strength surprised him. Dozens of small frog figurines were soon laid out on the worktable.

Sienna might be petite, but she was strong, and he was beginning to realize how physically hard she worked running the gallery all day and then coming down to this hot cavern to work at night. His respect for her increased, and he wrinkled his brow in a frown. Hopefully the new assistant would lighten her work load. But she was busy now; they’d talk about her handing over more of the work later. In the meantime, he was going to enjoy watching her work. The temperature in the room increased as the kilns heated up to their baking temperature. Jack brushed away a trickle of perspiration from the back of his neck.

“
When I add the water to the enamel powder I pretend I’m making pancake batter.” The tip of her tongue poked through her lips as she focused on stirring the liquid. Her brow wrinkled with concentration when she tipped the water into the enamel powder.

“Sometimes I get impatient.” She shot him a look and laughed. “I know, that’s me. I like to work fast, but this process has taught me to slow down. I used to think, ‘I’ll just add a bit more liquid this round,’ and I’d inevitably end up with it too runny and it wouldn’t stick. I lost one whole batch a couple of weeks ago. It’s a wonder you didn’t hear me ranting all the way up in New York.”

“So what did you find was the best way?” Jack was still experimenting with the coatings on his sculptures.

“Well, it depends on the metal, but it’s a bit like cooking pancakes. It’s good to rest the enamel before you start using it, and of course it settles between uses, so always stir it if it’s been sitting for a while.”

“I’ve never cooked pancakes.”

She lifted her head and tipped it to the side as her dark gaze locked on him. “Never?”

“I don’t cook much at all.” Jack ran his hand through his hair, surprised to find it already damp from perspiration as the room heated up.

Sienna had a slight tinge of pink on her cheeks, but still looked fresh.

“Hmm. I forgot for a while you were the spoiled rich boy.”

“That’s a bit harsh.” A rare fragment of temper tugged at him. She really knew how to push his buttons, and he fought it down. “I ate out most of the time because that’s the way everyone lives in New York.”

“I thought you lived on your parents’ estate? That’s what Ana told me.”

“I had an apartment near Central Park, but I moved back home after Dad had his heart attack.”

“And I suppose you had servants to cook your pancakes?”

Jack stared at her. “Servants? We had people who were employed to help out.” His eyes narrowed as a small giggle escaped her lips, and he realized she’d been teasing him all along and he’d fallen for it.

“Well, remind me to teach you how to make pancake batter, and then you’ll have no trouble with the enameling mix.”

Her lips were full and she had the prettiest mouth. Whenever she was brushing a difficult edge, the tip of her tongue appeared as she leaned closer to the frog in her hand and focused her attention on the gentle movement of the enameling brush. Her black eyeliner was smudged from where she’d rubbed her eyes, and Jack couldn’t be sure if the smudge of shadow on the delicate skin under her eyes was from the kohl she wore, or because she was tired. All he knew was that whenever she moved, he couldn’t keep his eyes from her. He was aware of every inch of her. His gaze traveled from the short pixie haircut, down her long graceful neck, to her petite body. The snug-fitting T-shirt beneath the work apron outlined her small breasts. He deserved a medal for reminding her about their business relationship when she’d grabbed his shirt before. Looking down at her lips and not kissing her had been tough, but he didn’t want to ruin things between them.

Sienna finished the piece she was working on, and with a soft grunt of satisfaction she held it up to the light, before turning to put it on the shelf farthest from the heat. Jack swallowed when she stood on her tiptoes to put it with the other finished pieces. The form-fitting pants and T-shirt hugged her curves, and his mouth was suddenly dry.

Damn shame they had this business agreement, because all he could think about was the feel of her leaning against him and her lips against his. Jack pushed the stool back and cleared his throat. It was time to get out of here before he did something he’d regret. They’d made a deal, and he’d keep his end of it.

“Are you finished now?” He glanced down at his watch. “It’s almost midnight. You’re not going to get much sleep.”

“I’m going to sleep upstairs.” She stood back and gestured to the door. “You go and do whatever you came here for, and I’ll lock up down here.” She rubbed her arms with those long slender fingers, and he fought the longing to have them running up his chest again.

“Fine. I just need to get a couple of things to take back to your place.” He didn’t move and kept his gaze on her. “Then I’ll show you my pieces if you still want to see them.”

“I do.” She shrugged those delicate shoulders. “Are you going back upstairs?”

“Yes.” He moved to the door and turned back to her. “But I won’t go back to your place till you’re in the studio.”

“Thank you. That’s nice of you, but there’s no need to hang around. It’s safe here.”

“I’ll wait for you upstairs.” He let himself out without looking back at her and headed for the locked room to collect his gear.

…

When the door closed behind him, Sienna let her breath out with a whoosh and sat on the stool Jack had vacated. It sure was a change to have someone looking out for her, and it felt good. No matter how laid-back he was, and how much that annoyed her, Jack was a gentleman.

She’d been fully aware of his gaze fixed on her while she worked, and she’d enjoyed answering his questions. Teasing him was fun too, despite the warm shivers that skittered down her back every time he asked her something in that deep and sexy voice. She’d worked alone with her sculpting and enameling for two years now. Georgie and Ana were skilled in carpentry, but they had no knowledge of the artistic processes she’d experimented with since she’d moved to Carmel-by-the Sea. Jack’s interest had been gratifying. Knowing the process, he appreciated how hard it was to get it right.

So maybe she’d stretched a little higher and for longer than she would have if he hadn’t been there. Her thoughts scattered, she moved across to the kilns and switched them off. He’d reminded her their relationship was about business. And that’s the way it would stay, no matter what her traitorous body was trying to tell her. Listen to logic; her future depended on it.

“Shoot.” A sharp edge of one of the unfinished pieces pierced the palm of her hand when she picked up the last tray. She dropped it onto the shelf and held her fingers up. Blood was trickling down the side of her hand, and she moved across to the sink and rinsed it off. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was long, and blood seeped out even after she washed it. She curled her fingers to put pressure on the cut, and the blood stopped dripping. The first aid kit was upstairs in the kitchen. Sienna untied her apron with one hand and shrugged it off before uncurling her fingers.

Damn, the cut was still bleeding.
That’s what happens when I daydream.

She dabbed at the cut with her apron before wrapping it around her bleeding palm. Flicking the light off with her good hand, Sienna pulled the door of the kiln room shut, grateful for the light that spilled down out of the storage shed. It had rained while they were inside, and the wet cobblestones glistened in the moonlight. Ragged dark clouds scudded across the sky and the wind pushing them along brought a tang of salt air from the beach. She’d been so busy, she hadn’t been for a walk on the beach in days. Soon, she promised herself. It would help clear the cobwebs that seemed to be ensnaring the common sense that usually guided everything she did.

Getting tangled up with Jack was the least logical path she could take. She really had to brush him off. But she didn’t want to…

Jack was banging around in the storage shed, and Sienna poked her head around the door. She looked around the boxes filling the small space, and her breath caught. She raised her hand to her mouth. “Oh my goodness.”

Two huge abstract sculptures stood on either side of the piled-up moving cartons. She walked over and ran her fingers down the fluid shape of the one closest to the door. “These are yours?”

Jack’s face was shadowed, and she looked up at him, unable to read his expression.

“Yeah. The rest are still in the basement at my parents’ house.” His voice was tight, and she wondered if he was shy about his work.

She lifted her chin, caught his gaze, and challenged him to hustle her from the room. “They’re amazing. They make my pieces seem trivial.” Then all of a sudden, her confidence disappeared as unexpected doubt rushed in. His pieces were spectacular. His artistic flair showed in every curve and angle of the pieces. For a moment it made her feel as though her pieces were insignificant.

Am I kidding myself thinking I’m good enough to show my work in an exhibition? In Carmel-by-the-Sea of all places?

Sienna stepped back and put one hand behind her, feeling for the door handle. “Wait.” Her eyes met his, and all thoughts of sculptures, frogs, and shows fled and she caught her lip between her teeth as Jack followed her to the door. She could read the expression in his green eyes as clear as day. It mirrored the feelings racing through her.

He stood beside her and took her shoulders gently between his hands. Sensual intent filled his gaze, and a shiver started low in her stomach and traveled in every direction. She couldn’t look away. She couldn’t resist the feelings rampaging through her as he held her; accepting them came to her as naturally as breathing.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” He looked down at her hand, which had the apron fisted against her chest.

“Just a little cut.”

“Show me.”

He pulled her closer and unwound the apron from around her hand. “Damn. That’s a nasty gash there. What did you do?”

“I caught it on one of the rough edges when I was packing up.” At least talking about her hand dispelled the mood that had ensnared them briefly. “It’s nothing. I’ll just go clean it and put a bandage on it.” She pulled away from him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”