end of the train was the man who had sent her head whirling.
MARC SAT grumbling to himself, his jaw tense. What the hell did David mean, hustling everybody out of the drawing class. Wasn’t “Antonio” supposed to get to know the artists who seemed the most likely suspects? Wasn’t the model guise supposed to shock someone into a fatal revelation?
Marc wanted to get back to the girl, Amanda Emerson, to talk to her, see what was in her eyes. See the color of her eyes.
He opened the art book on his lap and stared at the pages.
Angry. Still angry. He thought he had a handle on it.
He and David had gotten into a heated argument after class. He should have known they couldn’t work together on this job without squaring off at each other. Marc sighed deeply. A lot of bad history. A lot of garbage left to clear up yet.
He focused on the open book. Concentrate on which picture, which pose might trigger a revealing response.
And not on wondering whether her eyes were deep brown or inky black.
AMANDA felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She didn’t like what she was doing: watching someone who had no idea that every move was being scrutinized, every gesture analyzed. She shook herself and turned away. He drew her back.
Underneath the down parka and worn jeans was the naked body she had all but memorized earlier that evening. Wide, strong shoulders stretched above the smooth, flat pectoral planes. Powerful thighs pressed tightly against denim. The chest, firm and hard, slowly rose and fell. She remembered the nipples, the darker circles of pebbled flesh that the taut nubs sprang from.
She swallowed and looked away, feeling her body flush. She smoothed her hands over her slacks, the heat from her own thighs radiating into her moist palms. She could feel his flesh under her hands, lean muscles contracting and elongating, stretching and undulating under her firm fingers. She ironed her slacks with her palms harder, beginning to feel the heat of the Greek sun on the back of her neck.
She pressed more firmly, imagining the imprint of his naked skin pulsing against her pressing palms. Dreamily, her eyes drifted over the landscape of his body. Every inch golden toasted. Every muscle sharply defined. His body scraped clean. Except for the puff of dark, shining pubic…
At the other end of the subway car the model shifted in his seat, the muscular buttocks and powerful legs straining the fabric of his faded jeans. He glanced up from the book he was immersed in and looked right at her! Even from this distance the rich darkness of his eyes shot through Amanda with a physical force. She turned away, her hand quickly reaching to prod at her knitted winter cap. She felt instantly foolish.
What could she say to him? He would think she had followed him from class! An infatuated art student with a silly, school girl crush. She fumbled awkwardly with her portfolio, unzipping it and blankly rearranging drawings inside.
He was focused on infinity, staring vacantly in Amanda’s direction. He sighed, reached to tug at his hair and absently scratch his scalp through the tangle of black curls.
He looked back at his book.
He hadn’t even seen her.
AT THE opposite end of the car from the object of Amanda’s careful observation, a pair of steely eyes was taking their own careful note of the young woman: her tentative touches to her cap and hair, her furtive glances to keep the model in her sight through the late-evening subway crowd, her odd smiles as though responding to some inner directive. The young woman was being more carefully watched than she was watching.
Suddenly, Amanda realized she had no idea where she was. A local station whizzed by the windows of the train, the station designation meaning nothing. She must have passed her stop long ago. A wave of unsettling disorientation washed over her. She quickly looked around for a subway map.
How could she have been so foolishly distracted by a Greek Olympian, a Roman god-by naked flesh? Rising young executive Amanda Emerson was not pleased with herself. She hadn’t finally gotten away from a house full of overbearing males in Pittsburgh to get tangled up with a bare-assed New York model.
The subway train pulled into a station.
“Hi, remember me? You okay? You look lost. Can I help?”
The deep, concerned voice shot through her like a velvet cannon. Amanda whirled. The amazing model was mere inches away. Even swathed in his late winter clothes, his aura bathed her in a flush of warmth. His eyes were the deepest, darkest brown she had ever seen. And with those cheekbones he must be Northern Italian or… geography swirled in her head…Black Irish maybe.
“I forgot to get off at my stop. I don’t know where I am.” She stammered. So much for the in-charge, rising young executive.
He laughed, his teeth blindingly perfect. As well they should be in that perfect mouth…perfect lips…perfect chin…
“Welcome to the club. So did I. Good.” He chuckled. “Now I don’t feel quite so dumb myself. I don’t know where my mind was. Well, yes, I do know where my mind was,” he said with a mischievous grin. “But it obviously wasn’t on where I was going. Do you live in the Village, too? We can go back together, okay?”
“No. I’m in Chelsea. I’ve been meaning to get to the Village, but…” She took a deep breath. She needed more air.
The car doors closed on them and within seconds the train was charging deeper and deeper into the depths of Manhattan.
“No big deal. When I asked David about you tonight…” He stopped himself. For a moment his look froze, then he turned a relaxed smile on Amanda. “He said he believed you were new to the city.” He glanced at the subway map. “We can change back to the uptown train at Chambers Street.”
Next to her, his body heat was like the spring sunshine that would flood the city in a few weeks, reawakening life.
As she scrutinized his face, he seemed more mature than she had at first thought. Fine lines gathered at the corners of his dark eyes.
“I can see you back to your place if you like. Or we could stop in the Village and have a bite.” He smiled. Relaxed. At ease. “Or both. I’ll even take you on a little tour of the Village, if it’s not too late for you. I can point out the really seedy places to avoid, when you finally get down our way…or head for,” he cocked a knowing eyebrow, “if you’re feeling adventurous.” His grin was teasing.
Amanda was trying hard to remember they were deep in the bowels of present-day late-winter Manhattan, for the heat of an Olympian sun was beginning to color her cheeks again.
Farther down the car, buried in a winter great coat under a pulled-down hat, the watcher noted how warmly the two seemed to be getting on. A frown furrowed an anxious brow.
The model was pouring on the charm. “I’m offering to take you on a semi-date and I’m not even sure of your name. David seems to be taking great pains not to let me too near any of his students.” He laughed. His gaze held on her eyes for a long moment then the sweep of dark lashes shadowed his cheeks as he dropped his look to contemplate his hands, suddenly seeming ill at ease. Or shy.
“I would like very much to have a bite to eat, and a quick walk through the Village sounds terrific.” Amanda
