Never Love a Naked P.I.

tonight, youknow there’s no more there than meets the eye. But it’s great eye candy. You think because this Marc stud treats you like Little Miss Princess he’s gonna keep treating you that way when the wedding cake gets cold. Get real.”

Cissy’s tight features took on a look of true concern. “GoodLord, Christine, you sound like you’ve been treatedvery badly along the way. Maybe, if you were a little more subtle with your make-up?”

Amanda cleared her throat in shocked warning.

A moment’s hesitation and Christine laughed raucously.

“Cissy-belle, I gotta hand it to you. You’re either naive as cotton candy or you’ve got more guts than I give you credit for, to take on an old war horse like me. I know I’m painted like a fun-loving merry widow, but it keeps the uninitiated out of my life. I’m no teacher at this stage of the game.”

“But I thought you and Nathan…” Christine whirled on Amanda, stopping the words in her throat.

“I have… my weaknesses.” The look of pain startled both the other women as Christine downed the rest of her martini.

“You mean thattacky, self-centered, young…” Cissy’s harsh comment trailed off. Her face instantly softened into a look of motherly concern. “Oh,honey, youknow better.”

Christine woefully nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“Oh Lord, he would make your lifemiserable.”

Christine again nodded dejectedly. “Has made. But he’s such a great talent and he’s throwing it away.” She looked angrily at Amanda. “On those god-awfulthings you publish. It’s okay for old Angeli to blow what talent he’s got left, but Nathan… You should see the stuff he’s got on his walls.”

At Amanda and Cissy’s surprised reactions, her false lashes dipped and her chin lifted proudly. “Yeah. I’ve been in his bedroom. Yeah. We did it. Yeah, I’m carrying a damned torch ‘cause we’ll probably never do it again.” Her eyes brimmed. “He was… so gentle. I felt fifteen. As if I remembered fifteen.”

The tears overflowed. Cissy was instantly at her side, her arms enfolding the shuddering shoulders with protective youthful assurance, a tissue at Christine’s eyes, cooing soothing counsels of understanding.

Amanda watched, amazed at the revelations.

Christine sighed deeply, dabbed at her face and gave Cissy a thankful pat.

“At least I’ve got that night to remember. I had this goddamned foolish thing about being his… muse. You should see his stuff, Amanda. I swear it’s as good as the drawings I’ve seen hanging in the Met. Like old masters. I went home and did some of the best sketches I’ve ever done, I was so absolutely inspired.” She gave a self- deprecating guffaw. “Yeah, right. By his art. You know anything about art, Cis?”

“Well, I…”

“To have gone to bed with a kid that can put pen to paper like that. I guess I can die happy. But I ain’t happy…” The tears started again. Cissy was again at her side, spreading soothing understanding and commiseration.

Amanda sat stunned.

Nathan.

…And maybe Christine.

The life class at the Art Students League was starting to get tense.

DAVID Parkerson entered jauntily, a few minutes late, surprised that young “Antonio” hadn’t already shown up to pose for the session. He assumed the young model would be along shortly and proceeded to extol to the class his extraordinary good fortune in being chosen to assist in the new Metropolitan exhibit.

He had a particular expertise in the field of art the exhibition covered, he noted modestly without going into further detail and knew the class would find the it most interesting when it opened.

“We would like to find this class most interesting,” Christine noted tartly. “Where is our handsome hunk?”

Amanda felt a wave of apprehension. Where was Marc? She knew how he was looking forward to this evening’s session. Maybe stuck in the subway. Surely not in a cab accident.

She forced herself to remain calm.

“You haven’t perhaps set us up for a let-down have you?” Professor Angeli was being unusually tart. “Young Antonio is not to appear tonight and you are making a feeble attempt to assuage the situation.”

Mr. Wilde pulled himself up to his full imposing height. “I say, that would be unthinkable, Parkerson.”

“Mention using those damned plaster casts again and I’m outta here.” Nathan seemed the most sullen of all.

Amanda had the sinking feeling he was on something again. He had arrived hyped and excited and had grown increasingly short-tempered as it seemed more and more likely that Antonio might not show.

Their teacher’s patience was growing thin. “You’re here to sketch, to learn life drawing. It’s presumptuous of you to be demanding. It’s I who am demanding of you to do your best work with or without a model.”

“That’s outrageous,” Professor Angeli seethed. “How dare you speak to professionals in that tone of voice. We’ve put up with your superior attitude in no small measure. And the foolish examples of humanity you’ve given us to work from…”

“Let’s hear it for paunchy Maurice.” Nathan flung a drawing pad into the air. “And the overabundant Pauline!”

Mr. Wilde clattered his watercolor brush on his easel as the rest of the class joined in the bedlam.

David Parkerson waded into the center of his rebellious students, smartly slapping his hand against easels and rapping drawing pads for attention. “I am your instructor! You will not question my motives and my expertise.”

He spun on Nathan. “If you are so feeble as to not be able to draw without proper inspiration, then go to the posing area and we’ll draw you!” He shoved the compact young man roughly in the direction of the platform.

Amanda gasped. The entire scene had become surreal. She couldn’t believe serious artists were allowing themselves to become drawn into the mob mentality.

“You gave us a great model and you’ve taken him away”, someone in the class called out.

“We have every right to be angry,” another voice added.

Nathan whirled and shoved the large teacher back. “Keep your untalented hands off me, buddy. The Met may think you’re hot stuff but we’re the ones who do the work here.”

“Stop that!”

“Slug him, Nathan!”

“Serves the stuck-up bastard right…!”

A cacophony of violent voices rose in harsh agitation.

Christine waded in. “Don’t you touch Nathan!” She swung at Parkerson who backed into an easel, sending the flimsy wooden contraption clattering to the floor followed by drawing papers, pencils and crayons.

Chaos broke out. Pushing, shoving, shouting. Frustration burst forth, unleashed from all sides. Above it all Mr. Wilde bellowed for civility and calm.

Amanda hovered against a back wall with several other students, shocked and frozen into inaction.

Marc! Dear God, Marc, where are you?

THE PRIVATE investigator’s head swam. He couldn’t believe he had been so lax as to allow himself to be mugged in his own apartment.Man, this being in love stuff can get a guy killed.

Being in love?Yeah, he had to admit to himself, he was bonkers for the babe.Okay, let’s see if I can salvage any of this battered body with which to tempt my lady love.

He shook his head hard to snap away the excruciating pain. He could still see and focus, though it was a little fuzzy, so there appeared to be no major neural damage. He reached to feel if blood flowed and felt his hand sharply grabbed, pulled back, and roughly held against his other.

A large menacing shape loomed behind him, wrapping his wrists in tape. Marc slowly revolved his head to see his tormentor, incrementally realizing the rest of his body was also constrained. His ankles were taped to the legs of one of the dining chairs.

“Okay, pretty boy, where’s the other bozo? The Italian job. You’re teaching him that art stuff, right? Damn, how