Free Miss You Mad: a psychological romance novel by Thea Atkinson Page A

plate. "It's not as if I'm trying to smother you."
    "I know. I know."
    "So tell me."
    "It all has to do with my painting. I see things, I have to recreate them---although, its not really recreating. It's more exploration. But anyway, it's quite a demanding passion. I could be standing in a grocery line, and all of a sudden, the light washing over a grocery clerk brings to life shadows in her cheek. I'm transfixed."
    I knew the feeling. While I might not have the poetic soul she did, I totally understood that sense of being frozen by beauty. I wanted to reach beneath the table and stick my hand between her legs. Instead, I forced my fingers curl around the water glass.
    "I get stuck sometimes," she said. "There I am in the grocery line and the person behind starts pushing me forward and I've lost track of how long I'd been standing there." Hannah paused long enough to butter her roll before she continued.
    "Most artists are interested in light. Light is their life force. Their grammar, their Madonna. Do you have any idea how harsh full light can be? It sharpens angles, washes out colour. It's not flattering."
    "Like Moses," I said.
    "What's that?"
    "Moses. When he was on Mount Sinai and God had allowed himself to be seen as he passed by."
    She furrowed her pretty brows. "I'm not familiar."
    I leaned back in my seat, pleased to know something she didn't.
    "The light was so strong that Moses glowed when he came down. Nobody could stand looking at him and he had to wear a veil."
    "Interesting," she said but her tone suggested otherwise. I realized she was preoccupied.
    "I'd rather study shadows," she said. "It's the shadows that make light its most stunning."
    I couldn't help smiling. "That explains your interest in me."
    She grinned, too. It was good to see. "Yes, that explains you." She stretched her hand across the table and cupped mine. "Actually, it explains a lot."
    Then I did reach beneath the table, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to slip my fingers between her legs. Instead it landed on her knee and squeezed. She gave me a trembling smile that gave me enough courage to lean across and kiss her on the corner of the mouth.
    Someone in the room ordered coffee. The aroma settled around our table and cocooned us. It smelled fabulous. I decided to order a cup, not to drink, really, just to wrap my hands around.
    "None of that explains why you look so spooked."
    She cocked her head sideways as though she thought I hadn't been listening at all.
    "My love of shadows has everything to do with it Shadows are kind of like the other side of the psyche, don't you think? You can hide in a shadow, and things can be hidden from you."
    "That's pretty cliche'," I heard myself saying and expected a frown to appear on her face.
    "Good point," she said. "I guess that's what I'm exploring in my art. My paintings all have shadows as the subject." Hannah slurped at the edge of her spoon, oblivious to what I might think of her manners. Strangely, I kind of liked it.
    "So you like shadows." I ran my thumb along the webbing between her thumb and forefinger. "Doesn't sound so frightening."
    She carefully extracted her hand from mine and tasty Palm on the table, splaying fingers.
    "I have a series of paintings I called the shadow series." She lifted each finger off the surface of the table as though she were counting. "The first one is a forest scene. Each tree trunk is made up of faces or pieces of faces staring out from the shadows created by dappled light. I rather liked it, but in some ways, it turned out to be a disaster."
    "I know exactly what disaster means," I actually could sympathise with her there. I felt a bond attach itself to us across the chowder bowls. It made me smile.
    "Oh yes?" She leaned back, inviting me to share, all I could think was that the billion ants that had crawled into my crotch came from the way her breasts swelled as she did so. At least I told myself that was the reason.
    "There is darkness there," she