“Mm.”

“Not just color, but alphabetically and by color. I’m impressed by this level of obsessive detail.”

“I like things in order.” She grabbed her jacket and a bag. “I have snacks. Shall we go?”

“Wait. Give me a tour.”

She gave him a very fine side-eye as she sighed. “It’s a studio. This is pretty much it.”

He moved around, peering at her shelves. “What are these?”

“Sketchbooks. Books. Photo albums. The usual.”

He pulled one out and she shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “May I look?”

She licked her lips, chewing on her bottom one a moment. “Sure. They’re just sketches, nothing special.”

But they were special. Page after page of drawings. Sometimes they were of people or landscapes. Sometimes they were clearly ideas for tattoos. But they were all amazing.

“You’ve got a great deal of talent.”

“I’m okay.”

“Prolific too.” He indicated the multiple shelves.

“This is all of them. You know, since I was twelve or so. Some of the earlier ones . . . they didn’t . . . I didn’t keep those.”

“How long have you been drawing?” He led her to the sliders and then out onto the deck. The traffic in the distance was a hum, but not annoyingly so.

“Since I was six or so. We should go.”

“Your only appointment is me. And I’m right here. You’re my only appointment. No rush. Why weren’t you able to keep the ones from before you were twelve?”

“They didn’t let you bring a lot. When you moved to a new place. Later I started keeping them at school, or in my great-grandmother’s shed. But I didn’t know much the earlier years.”

He touched her then, sliding a hand through her hair, which she’d left loose around her face. “Awfully young to have to learn stuff like that. Did you lose her then? Your great-grandmother?”

“She lived until she was a hundred and one. But she”—her voice thinned but didn’t quite break—“she couldn’t care for me after I turned three. She had several strokes and she couldn’t get around well.”

“I’m sorry. Your mother?”

“Couldn’t be bothered. We should go.”

“You keep saying that. I want to know more.”

“Fuck off!” She wrenched herself back, eyes flashing. “I’m not a reality television show. I’m not your dancing monkey.”

“I never said you were. People share, that’s how they build relationships. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to know you.”

She hated how he stood there so fucking calm after he’d rooted through her memories that way. Hated too that the way he’d touched her had calmed her, how hard she’d had to fight the desire to lean in and take comfort.

“So let’s get to know you then.”

“Go on. Ask. I’ve answered all the questions you’ve asked.”

She blew out a breath and tried to go back into her place but he stood there looking so reasonable she wanted to kick him in the balls.

“Look, I said I wouldn’t fuck anyone else while I was with you. But that doesn’t mean you get a full pass into my life. Into my memories. It sucked. Growing up the way I did sucked. It was horrible and I don’t want to talk about it for a reason. You didn’t grow up like that so I get how it’s a story to you, but it happened to me. It happened to me and I’m not giving it to you on demand.”

He moved to her slowly, but he kept moving until he’d gathered her up against his chest, holding her tight.

“I’m sorry.”

She hated how he got to her. Hated how easy it was for him to waltz in and get past all the walls she’d built to defend herself.

“We should end this. You’re looking for something I can’t give you.”

He snorted. “Be quiet. Let’s go look at leaves. Bring your sketchbook. I’ll buy you a glass of wine and lunch and make you come a few times before we go to dinner.”

He turned and did that thing with her hand on his arm, leading her inside.

Of course he had a car that looked like a panther. Sleek. Powerful. Tinted windows. He escorted her to it and opened her door. When he closed it to go around to his side, all sound from outside was gone.

The seats were soft leather and it smelled a lot like he did. It wasn’t necessary but she put her sunglasses on anyway, trying to find some way to filter him out.

“I like the sunglasses.”

Of course he managed to sound suggestive. He drove calmly, but in charge. Easing into traffic like no one better get in his way. And really they didn’t.

“Are you warm enough?”

Despite it being late October, it felt a lot more like November. But she’d worn a sweater and brought her jacket and gloves.

Soon enough though, her seat got warm.

“Jeez, are these heated seats?” She tried not to sound like she’d just eaten an entire bowl of ice cream, but it made her languid. Spoiled like a cat.

“I like luxuries. We established that. So when can I get the next piece done on my back?”

“I like to wait at least two weeks between sessions. I’ll look at it the next time we’re naked to see how it’s coming along. But I want it healed before I do the next part.”

“I like how you made that fun.”

She rolled her eyes, relaxing a little when she realized he wasn’t going to push about her past.

“That’s me. More fun than a barrel of monkeys. Though, to be honest the idea of a barrel of monkeys doesn’t sound fun to me. It sounds like there’d be fleas and bites and shit involved.”

“I do think Raven fun is better than that, yes.”

“Who even thinks that stuff up? Monkeys in a barrel?”

She noted that his mouth quivered as he tried not to smile. It was a seriously sexy mouth.

“Who knows, darlin’. Maybe someone without any idea of what fun is?”

“Probably. Anyway, two weeks. Maybe three, depending on how you heal. Though I doubt your immune system would have the audacity to take more than two weeks.”

He chuckled. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean by that. I’m sure your immune system is just as stubborn as the rest of you is.”

“I come by it honestly, I’m told. My mother is just as bad.”

She snorted. She’d heard.

“I figured we’d head up around Snoqualmie. I saw a lot last year when Carrie and I went up. Work for you?”

“I’m just along for the ride. I wore shoes I could hike in, just in case.”

“Hm, a hike. After I wake up in a warm cabin and have hot sex with a willing woman covered in ink. But just as a general rule? Not gonna make you hike without telling you up front.”

“Good to know. I don’t camp much. I like hot showers too much to really get into it. Erin did con me into going to the Sleeping Lady a few years back. We’ve gone several more times. If it comes with a spa and gourmet food as well as some pretty swank accommodations, I can swing that.”

“I lived in the dorms my first year of college. I hated the communal showers. I hated wearing flip-flops.”

Imagining him in cheap flip-flops did a good job eroding her annoyance. “You lived in the dorms?”

“Don’t mock. My parents thought it would be a good experience. I met a shitload of girls. Lots of furtive, very quick fuck sessions before roommates came home. That was the good part. I got an apartment my second year when I worked at the firm part time.”

“I bet you met a lot of girls. I can’t even imagine the Jonah in his early twenties. Though, I do admit to the fairly overwhelming appeal of the Jonah in his forties. I like a man who knows what he’s about.”

“Good to know. I was more reckless then.”

“Who isn’t when they’re twenty?”

“I bet you weren’t.”

“I’m reckless now, Jonah. As for when I was twenty? I was in my own way. I was trying to figure out everything. Trying to raise myself, I suppose.”

“Trying to survive?”

“By the time I was twenty or so I knew I’d be all right. I had some skills that I could pay the rent with. I realized how much I loved to travel around that time, too.”