Travis frowned. “Priest wanted to rent it out?”

Billie shrugged. “I guess. It said to enquire next door at The Priory, so I went and chatted with Sophie, who introduced me to her dad. I remember thinking he was the scariest-looking dude I’d ever seen, but he was lovely to me. He seemed to think it amusing that I wanted to use the building as an art gallery, but then muttered something about it being empty long enough and agreed to lease it to me anyway. I’ve been here just under a year, and it didn’t take me as long as I thought to build up my group of artists.”

Billie expected more questions, but Travis simply nodded, then kissed her again. Although talking with him was easy, the touch of his lips made her forget about the gallery, forget about everything except the taste of him.

She’d thought he’d extricate himself once he’d finished with her for the night, so she was surprised to wake up with the sun peeking through a gap in her curtains and Travis’s arm draped across her chest. Her nipples hardened at the realization, at the delicious feel of his bare arm resting on top of them. She turned her head slowly and smiled at the sight before her, experiencing an intense urge to stroke her fingers across his jawline, to touch the stubble of his beard. Yet he’d wake the moment she did so and although she liked the idea of what might follow when he did, she wanted to record this moment in more than just her memory.

She barely breathed as she slithered out from under his arm with the skill of Houdini and tiptoed across the floor so as not to wake Baxter, who’d been slumbering alongside them. Some guard dog, she thought as she escaped down the corridor with a smile.

Less than a minute later she was back with her sketch pad and box of charcoal. She perched herself on the little dresser stool she’d bought from a local secondhand shop, then opened the pad and retrieved a piece of charcoal. All the while, man and dog remained dead to the world.

For the next half hour, Billie’s fingers were busy filling the paper with the lines and contours of Travis’s amazing body and heart-stopping face. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to quite do him justice, but was still more than happy with her efforts. Lost in the world of her art, she jolted when Travis spoke.

“What are you doing?” His voice sounded gravelly, sexy from sleep, yet she didn’t know if he’d be pleased with her answer. Generally she asked her subjects’ permission before immortalizing them, but she hadn’t been able to help herself.

“Sketching.” She swallowed, her grip tightening on the charcoal. “Drawing you.”

He raised one eyebrow, and for a second her heart halted and the charcoal shook in her fingers. Would he be angry about this? But then he spoke again, and the tone of his voice and expression on his face said he was anything but. “Can I see?”

Now she was filled with a different kind of nerves. She hadn’t drawn anything for anyone else’s eyes in a very long time; hell, she’d barely even drawn at all until this last week. “It’s not very good.” She hugged the sketch pad to her chest, self-conscious about her nakedness and her art.

“Let me be the judge of that.” He pushed up into a sitting position and patted the empty space on the mattress beside him. Her mouth went dry at the sight of all his tattoos and she wondered if she’d ever get over how they made her feel. Was it just his tattoos? Or would any guy covered in ink do it for her? He was the first man she’d ever slept with that had body art.

“Come on,” he whispered encouragingly.

She realized she’d been staring and forced herself up off the stool and over to him. As she sat on the mattress, Travis pulled her over so she was right up next to him. He wrapped one arm around her and put his other hand on her bare knee as she revealed the sketch to him.

“Fuck, that’s good. You are one talented minx, aren’t you?”

She turned her head to look at the expression of awe on his face and a buzz shot through her. He meant it. “It’s just a bit of fun,” she said with a shrug. How could she tell him that he made drawing easy without giving away the fact that she was falling for him? That looking at him and being with him inspired her like nothing had before. Last night she’d lied when she told him she just wanted him for his body, but she didn’t want to scare him away.

“No.” His tone was forceful. “As much as I don’t like the idea of me hanging on the gallery wall next to a bunch of fairy-tale rabbits and dinnerware no less, this is amazing. You’ve included so much detail. And…” He paused a moment, then shrugged. “I’m not sure how to explain it, but it’s like you’ve captured my soul or something instead. Shit, listen to me. What have you done to me?”

Travis chuckled and Billie couldn’t help glowing inside and out.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to display it. This is just for me. I don’t want to share it with anyone.”

“I’m glad.” He kissed her on the lips firmly but quickly. “But promise me something?”

“What?” Her mouth went dry thinking about what he could possibly want. The way she felt right now, she’d say yes to just about anything he asked.

Moving his hand lower so it rested on the small of her naked back, he said, “Do more of this. It’s as good as, if not better than, everything else out there hanging on those walls and you could make some good money from it—a name for yourself.”

She flinched a little at the mention of money, which reminded her of her ex. “Not everything’s about money, Travis.”

“Maybe not.” He didn’t sound like he believed that. “But having money sure helps make life easier. Why not make some from doing something you love? Tell you what—I’ll commission you to draw something for me. You reckon you could do my bike in charcoal?”

“Your motorbike?”

“No, my tricycle.”

She rolled her eyes at his obvious sarcasm and leaned toward him, nudging him with her elbow. “I didn’t think you liked art.”

He dipped his head so his breath tickled her neck as he spoke. “I like your art. I think it’s only fair that you start my collection.”

“Okay then.” She bit her lower lip to stop a massive grin from exploding across her face. Whatever happened between them in the end, at least if she did this, she’d know he’d always have a part of her. Something that reminded him of her every time he looked up at his wall.

“How well do you know Lorna?” he asked, surprising her. She’d wanted to talk to him about this but had never imagined he’d be the one to bring it up.

“Not that well,” she admitted. “I met her a few weeks after I opened the gallery through one of the other artists. We chat when she brings in her paintings, but that’s about the extent of it.” It wasn’t a blatant lie—they’d met outside the gallery only a couple of times. Lorna had been welcoming when they’d first met, had made an effort to make Billie feel at home in the French Quarter.

She waited for Travis to respond, but he was deathly silent. Finally she couldn’t be patient a moment longer. “I’m guessing you were surprised to see her yesterday?”

He snorted loudly at that and looked at her like she was a comedian. “Biggest understatement of the century.”

“You want to tell me why you have such hard feelings against her?”

She didn’t actually expect him to answer, so she was shocked when he stretched back on the bed, sighed and then started talking.

“Mom was a teenager, already abusing drugs and alcohol by the time I came along. I know you know Lorna used to be an addict and I’d be damn surprised if she’s clean now.”

Billie bit her tongue, not jumping to Lorna’s defense, not wanting Travis to know she’d already heard this from his mother.

“I gave her so many chances, tried to believe there was good in her for so many years when I was growing up,” he said. “Even when we didn’t have food on the table because she was high, even when she took me into the houses of drug dealers or men she slept with for a hit, I still wanted to protect her because she was my mom. I fantasized that one day when I was old enough, I’d make her get clean. Do whatever it took to give her and me a better life.”