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  That he agreed to the outlandish figure shocked her. But she was starting to realize that nothing Natron did should surprise her. The man was full of surprises.

  When he returned, he handed her a tall glass of iced tea with a wedge of lemon perched along the rim. “Now, I’ve just got to convince you to go out with me.”

  Definitely full of surprises.

  Chapter Three

  Ever since Natron met Carmen the week before, he’d been trying to decide if he should pursue her or not. The girl had already rejected him flat out when he’d asked her to go out with him and his friends that evening after her show, but for some reason he couldn’t get the curvy artist out of his mind. He’d tried to convince himself that she’d really had other plans after the show, that she wasn’t making up an excuse. It had been her show after all; she must have had her own celebration to attend.

  Yet it nagged at him that she’d said no. Women, as a rule, didn’t turn him down. Natron Dakers was the toast of Dallas. Hell, he was the toast of the nation. His underwear-clad ass was plastered in Times Square, for God’s sake.

  With more money than he could spend and more fame than was good for any man, Natron never had any trouble keeping his bed warm. But the long parade of vacuous models and groupies had become lonely and unfulfilling. He longed to meet someone he could connect with, someone with interests that extended beyond commandeering his credit card.

  And he longed for someone he could take care of. He’d long been a kinky devil, but he didn’t dare show that side to any of the superficial Barbies with whom he dallied. The tabloids would have a field day with that information, and he had no intention of offering one of those bimbos a payday at his expense.

  But when he’d met Carmen, bells went off in his head. Not alarm bells, but the ‘ding ding’ kind of bells that told him he’d won the jackpot. The way her golden brown curls framed her face reminded him of a grown-up Shirley Temple.

  Carmen’s innocence contradicted her not-so-innocent body. The girl was all curves, and he much preferred that to the anorexic look that was in fashion these days. He liked a woman he could grab a hold of, not a coat hanger.

  Even though he prided himself on being a risk taker and putting it all on the line, it had taken him a while to gather the courage to contact Carmen, and even then he used her work to get an ‘in’ with her. Attempting to protect his wounded ego, he’d led with his interest in her artwork, justifying the manipulation by telling himself that, if nothing else, he’d wind up with an amazing portrait of himself. He truly appreciated her work, so if that was all he came away with, it wasn’t a bad deal.

  Now she sat here in his living room, and he wasn’t sure how to move things along between them. He was afraid to come on too strong for fear the shy little dove would fly the coop, his instincts telling him he should take things slowly with her so as not to spook her. But unfortunately, his mouth got ahead of his brain and he’d blurted out that he wanted to take her out.

  Carmen shifted her position on the couch where she sat, and he couldn’t tell if she was pleased or trying to figure out how to let him down easily.

  “I’d like that,” she said, her blue-green eyes looking up at him through silky lashes.

  “You would?” This wasn’t the answer he expected.

  She giggled. “Sure. Who wouldn’t want to go out with Natron Dakers?”

  He shrugged, thinking she hadn’t that night at the gallery, but he ate up her flattery.

  “My brothers would kill me if I passed up an opportunity like that.”

  “Oh, are they fans?”

  “The biggest.”

  “They play ball?”

  “All three of them.”

  “I’d better send them some gear, then.”

  “They would love that!” She clapped her hands together.

  “I’ll have my assistant take care of that. So where do you want to go?”

  “Gee, I don’t know. I thought you’d have that all figured out.”

  He paused. “Yeah. You know, going out, that can be kinda a madhouse. The paparazzi…”

  “I’d just as soon stay in. Order a pizza or something, that’s alright with me.”

  This was just the kind of girl he needed. Most of the women he dated wanted to go out, to be seen with him. They wanted their picture taken with him. Not Carmen; she seemed content spending time with him.

  “Sounds good. Or I have a chef. We can get him to cook something for us…”

  “Wow. That’s so cool. I didn’t realize that.”

  He nodded. “What kind of food do you like?”

  “Pretty much anything. Italian, Mexican, Chinese…”

  “My chef makes a mean lasagna.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she said, beaming.

  He called his chef and then asked if she’d like to watch a movie.

  “If you do,” she said.

  She was so easygoing that it made his heart sing. Carmen was a breath of fresh air, so different from the high-maintenance women he was used to.

  “Maybe later. Tell me about you. Are you from Dallas?”

  “Denton. How about you?”

  “Pensacola, Florida. You said you have brothers, any sisters?”

  “Nope, only brothers. They’re all in high school. Trent is seventeen and the twins Robert and Jeff are fifteen. How about you?”

  “Only child, I’m afraid.”

  She chuckled. “Why afraid?”

  “My mamma doted on me, spoiled me rotten, probably ruined me for life.” He slapped his knee.

  “Oh, wow. So you’re a mamma’s boy?” she teased.

  “Hey, now. That’s not it. Let’s just say I’m my mamma’s favorite.”

  “The only child.” She giggled. “You’re her favorite, okay. What about your dad?”

  “Never knew him.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  An awkwardness hung in the air until Carmen asked, “Tell me about football. When did you know you were going to be really good at it?”

  “Good question. You know, I didn’t even play football until I was a sophomore in high school. Before that I was a basketball player. I played soccer too, goalie. It’s all about the hands,” he said, holding up his giant palms.

  “When I was eleven, I played goalie on my soccer team and after a game my mamma was talkin’ to me about a difficult save I made, and I got to telling her how I saw it all going down, in my mind, before it happened. Like the ball, I could tell where it was going, and I visualized my hands catching it milliseconds before it got there. I’m not sure how else to describe it, but it’s always been like that for me.” He shrugged. “Easy to catch things.”

  “So how did you get into football?”

  “Oh, well, both our school’s wide receivers went down, one with mono and one with a broken wrist. They needed somebody and recruited me from the basketball team. Don’t tell anybody,” he said conspiratorially, “but at first I didn’t like getting hit. I got used to it though, and then I played college ball at a small college in South Florida, then got drafted by the Vipers.”

  “And the rest, as they say, is history,” she smiled.

  He nodded, admiring the way her breasts peeked ever so slightly over the top of the neckline to her blouse. His cock twitched as he thought of the dirty things he’d like to do to her.

  When their meal was ready, he showed her the way to the dining room. He let her go first, not only because he had good manners, but also so he could enjoy the view of her hips swaying in front of him, a slight shake to her plump, round ass.

  Carmen gave him an appreciative smile when he pulled out her chair for her, and he took the seat next to her at the head of the table. Natron’s chef came in and filled a goblet for each of them with red wine. Then he brought out their entrees, two plates of delicious-smelling meat lasagna.

  They’d talked enough about him. Over dinner he wanted to learn more about her.

  “So what about you? When did you first know you were an artist?”

  She took a bite of her food and closed her eyes, savoring the flavor. Damn, she was sensual.

  When she finished her bite she replied, “Mmm. That is delicious. Oh, you were asking me about my art. I don’t know, really. I’ve been drawing all my life, used to get in trouble at school for doodling on all my schoolwork.”

  He pictured an adorable mini-Carmen being fussed at by the teacher for drawing all over her papers. She was a rebel in her own way, and that drew him to her. He appreciated that she had a little wild side.

  “I won some awards too, some contests. By the time I got to middle school, people considered me ‘that artist girl.’ I was a geek, yeah, but most of the kids were impressed enough with my artwork that I didn’t get picked on as much as you’d think.”

  He found himself feeling protective of her; it vexed him to think about anyone bullying her. “If anyone bothers you in the future, you send them to me. I’ll have something to say about it.”

  She giggled. “Wow, I never had anybody like you stand up for me before.”

  “Well, now you do,” he said with a wink. “I’ll see to it nobody messes with you.” He measured his words and kept his gaze steady on hers. The connection, the heat between them was palpable in the air and he hoped he could convince her to stay.

  When the chef came in to take their plates, Natron was pleased to see that Carmen cleaned her plate. He found it refreshing after the carousel of girls who just picked at their food. She was no Barbie doll; she was a real flesh-and-blood woman with a passion for life that piqued his curiosity. Would he be the recipient of that passion if he kissed her? He could hardly wait to find out.

  After they’d finished their lasagna, to be polite he offered her some dessert. She groaned, saying she was stuffed. Agreeing to skip the sweets, he led her into the adjoining foyer and slowly pushed her back against the wall.

  Her eyes met his, then darted to his lips. Interpreting this as an invitation, he leaned in and touched his mouth to hers. Inhaling her, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. She smelled of honeysuckle, the wild kind that grew on backyard fences. He felt her relax, her body melting against his, creating the perfect fit.

  He let his tongue explore her waiting mouth. She responded with the fervor he’d hoped for, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her pelvis to his. Blood rushed to his cock, and he pressed his stiffness against her.

  How he wanted to pick her up and carry her to his bedroom, the couch, wherever. But he stopped himself. There was so much potential with this girl, he hoped they could build something between them, and he knew not to rush. So instead they made out like teenagers in the hallway, losing track of time, caressing each other’s skin, grinding their hips against each other. Until finally Natron pulled away.

  “Can I give you a ride home?” he asked.

  Her tousled hair made her look cuter than ever and she gazed up at him with lust-filled eyes. “Thanks, but I have my car.”

  “I’d ask you to stay, but…” His voice trailed off.

  She began to straighten her blouse and tried to smooth back her unruly curls. “No, that’s okay. I have to be going anyways.”

  Was that hurt on her face? The mood shifted from simpatico to uncomfortable.

  “Okay. When can we get started on the painting?”

  “Um,” she said, looking around for her purse. “I have another project I need to finish up first. How about next week?”

  “Works for me.”

  “Great. You can come by the studio, and we can get started. I’ll text you the address.”

  “I’ll be looking forward to it. Thanks for having dinner with me,” he said and kissed her again.

  This time it was she who pulled away first. “Thank you. It was lovely.” She said goodbye and made a hasty exit.

  He closed the door and leaned his back against it. Sinking down to the floor, he wondered what he’d done to screw things up with her already.

  Chapter Four

  Carmen yawned.

  Sleep had eluded her the past week. Her sense of reason was in a battle with her love of fantasy for control of her heart.

  She knew engaging in a fling with Natron Dakers was bound to end in heartbreak, resulting in her becoming just another one of his conquests. But she needed the money from his commission and if she screwed that up, she’d soon be dodging phone calls from creditors. And how could she pass up the opportunity to be with such an incredible guy? Even if it was only for the short timeframe, a one-night stand with him would be something she could remember forever. Maybe not exactly the kind of thing you share with your grandkids, but an experience she could treasure in any case.

  Then there was the possibility he didn’t want to be with her. When he’d asked her out, then kissed her after dinner, she’d thought he was attracted to her. But before anything more could transpire, he’d pulled away and basically sent her home. What the hell did that mean? Maybe he hadn’t liked kissing her, and that was embarrassing, humiliating even.

  Natron would be arriving at her studio any minute. Shoving her mixed feelings to the back of her mind, Carmen glanced in the mirror and applied lip gloss in a sheer coral color. She ran her fingers through her curly mop and turned to pick up some clothes she’d tossed on the floor. Not that Natron would come upstairs to her bedroom, but on the off chance…

  Carmen’s apartment consisted of a huge open space that took up most of the square footage, a tiny kitchenette to one side and a small living space upstairs. She ate at the bar of the mini kitchen and slept on a bed upstairs. She read so often that she didn’t even own a television. If she wanted to watch a program or catch up on the news, she used her computer or tablet.

  Her work space was cluttered and messy, but she was an artist, so organizational skills and tidiness were not her forte. She looked over at the kitchen sink, relieved at least that was clean and the dishes were put away.

  He’s coming over to have his portrait painted, not audition you for the job of wife.

  Just then she heard a knock at the door, and her emotions did a tap dance in her abdomen. Her hands fluttered with excitement as she moved to let him in.

  “Hey, babygirl,” Natron said, leaning casually in the door frame, his smile lighting up the already sunny loft.

  The flirty name caught her off guard, but she could feel her face strain with how hard she was smiling. So much for playing it cool.

  “Hey.” She ushered him in and offered him some bottled water.

  Natron strutted through the door and looked around. “Man, this place is fly.”

  “Thanks,” Carmen said, pulling two bottles from the refrigerator. Not exactly the luxury digs he was accustomed to, but it was perfect for her.

  She noticed him searching for a chair. “Sorry, I don’t entertain very often.” She motioned to the bar stools at the kitchenette and made a note to create a small seating area downstairs with some of the money she would earn from this commission.

  He straddled the stool and took a slug of water. “So tell me, how’s this thing gonna go down?”

  “Well, I was considering painting you from behind. I think that would make a statement.”

  The corners of his mouth curled up. “Oh, so you think I have a fine ass is what you’re sayin’.”

  She slapped at his arm playfully. “Natron! I’m thinking artistically here.”

  “I know. That’s what I’m sayin’.”

  Trying to hide her smile, she said, “Okay. We’ll do it from the front. Just like everybody else.”

  He touched her chin and winked. “I’m just playin’, babygirl. We’ll do whatever you want. You’re the artist.”

  “I know, but you’re paying me, so it’s important that you like it.”

  “I gotcha,” he nodded and pulled his shirt over his head.

  She couldn’t help but stare at the chiseled muscles underneath. His skin was as smooth and dark as the finest chocolate. Unconsciously, she licked her lips, then took a sip of water.

  “So… just the shorts?” she gulped. “You gonna leave on the shorts?”

  “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m not gonna strip naked on you,” he laughed. “At least not right now.”

  She giggled. “Do you want to be holding a football or is that too… obvious? It’s up to you.”

  “I think I need the ball. Without it, I’m just a guy.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  He tried a few different poses, most of them giving her a prime view of his well-defined muscles. The way his back rippled with sinewy strength made her knees wobble. She didn’t know a person could have so many different back muscles; the way the hard bumps contrasted with his silky black skin made her pussy cream.

  She walked around him, snapping pictures with her phone. “I’ll use these for reference. That way you won’t have to stay in the same position for hours and hours at a time.”

  He lifted a brow lazily. “Girl, you tryin’ to get rid of me?”

  She shook her head. “Of course not.” The man was like a sunshiny day; being around him lifted her spirits.

  Finally he lighted on her stairs; legs apart, he leaned over, clutching the ball powerfully between his hands.

  “That’s it!” she exclaimed.

  “What?”

  “That’s the pose right there. Don’t move.”

  He stayed put as she circled him, taking pictures from every conceivable angle. After she’d determined that she’d gotten the shots she wanted, she moved to her sketchpad. “Next I’m going to make some gesture drawings. Be sure this is the pose we want. Try to act natural and tell me about one of your favorite plays. Feel free to walk around, use your arms. Use your body to tell me the story.”

  “Oh, I like that. You’re good,” he said, waggling a finger at her.

  He began to talk, his movement as fluid and graceful as a dancer. He appeared to glide across the room, and a few times Carmen became so wrapped up in watching him that she almost forgot to draw.

  “So it was the conference championship, biggest game of the year. And the ball wasn’t even being thrown to me, but it was tipped so I went up for it anyway. Jumped as high as I could. The defender hit me in the thighs, upending me. I just remember thinking I had to focus on grabbing that ball. I felt it rather than saw it; my left hand reached out and grabbed it, pulled it in. After I flipped over, another guy hit me. I landed on the ground with both of them on top of me. When they all got up, no one could believe I had the ball. But I had it.” He held his football up in the air to show her what he’d done at the end of the play. His eyes gleamed and Carmen found herself being drawn into his world; his passion for the game was infectious.

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