Free Sculpting Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 2) by Samantha Westlake Page A

it really just says 'social medias'. I think." I tried peering closer at the list, struggling with de St. James' chicken scratch handwriting.
    Portia shrugged. "Okay. Social media stuff. Whatever that might be, I guess it's not too hard. You said that he's older, right?"
    "Yep. Probably in his fifties or so."
    "So he probably doesn't know how to use a computer." She reached out for her wine glass, tilting it back - and then frowning when there wasn't any wine left in the glass. "Is he sexy?"
    "Ugh, no." I quickly turned my attention back to the list. "Okay, item two: find new models. New models of what?"
    "Ooh, I know this one!" Across from me, Portia raised her hand up in the air, waving it back and forth like we were back in grade school. "He means models!"
    "Yeah, that really helps me out here," I complained sarcastically.
    "You know, for statues! You said that he carves stuff, doesn't he?"
    "Sure, but it's all abstract, and then he paints it with colors! How do you model for that?"
    Portia crossed her arms in front of her small but still well-accentuated bust. "I'm just saying, that's what he means. He needs you to find someone to model for him." Her eyes sparkled. "Ooh, or maybe you could model for him, seductively posing, until the two of you start drifting closer and closer as he examines your lines and curves..."
    "Am I going to need to dump a glass of water on you?" I asked her. "Seriously, I've already got too many men in my life! I don't need to start trying to seduce some artist who's old enough to be my father!"
    "Yeah, and how about those men in your life?" Portia asked, switching the conversation back on me with a surprising burst of canny speed. "What's been happening with them? You haven't told me anything new, which knowing you, means that you've stalled out."
    "No comment." I didn't want to admit how close Portia's guess hit to the truth.
    As I saw her eyes sparkle at me, about to do a bit more probing, I hastily pulled the topic of conversation back on track. "Aren't there modeling agencies?" I asked, sitting back a little on my side of the booth. "Maybe I can call one of them, hire some people to come out and pose for de St. James. You know, professionals."
    "Not as good as my idea," Portia insisted, although she thankfully didn't press me further on stripping down and putting on a private performance for the artist. Instead, she started casting her eyes around the bar, panning back and forth between the wine dispensers and the other patrons - especially the male ones.
    I knew that look well. This indicated that Portia had reached the stage of drunkenness when she started hunting for a man - no matter how inappropriate of a match he might be for her. I quickly moved on to the third point on the list in front of me.
    "And finally, for the third point, it just says 'Ex'. You think that's talking about an ex-girlfriend? Ex-wife?" I asked.
    "It means that he's on the market, silly!" Portia insisted, trying to wink at me but ending up closing both eyes instead of just one.
    I sighed. "I'll deal with working my way through this list later. Right now, I think you're at the stage where you either need some food in your stomach, or for me to send you straight home so you can go to bed."
    "Ooh, I like where your mind's at," Portia purred, trying to reach across the table so that she could stroke me with a finger. She missed by at least a foot, but still grinned as if she'd brushed against my cheek. "That's right, we don't need a man!"
    "Definitely some food," I answered for her. "Otherwise, you'll probably end up doing your best to seduce the cabbie!"
    "Ugh, no," she objected, momentarily coming to her senses. "Cabbies are definitely below me." Her eyes misted over again. "But maybe if it was a sexy young Uber driver, all strapping and buff and willing to do anything to get his off-the-books tip..."
    I grabbed her hand, made sure that she had her jacket and purse, and hauled her outside. "Let's go get some food," I