Free Shelter Me: A Shelter Novel by Stephanie Tyler Page B

couldn't find a flaw and trust me, I wanted to. But today, I was being paid to be the artist with a cool, critical eye. I appraised her the way I imagined Ann Maslow did a perfect piece of artwork.
    From an objective point of view, she was beautiful. Technically, at least, which to me always translated as cold, even though I tried to be objective. Part of it was because I couldn't stand her, but I'd be damned if I let that screw up my artwork. That was all I needed, to have her show off work that wasn't my best.
    No, I was going to really see her, no matter if it killed me.
    I studied her for a while.
    Perfection in and of itself could be really boring. Part jealous bitch and part truth-teller. I needed to find an odd angle, a shadow, an imperfection….something to focus on or else this portrait would look boring as fuck.
    Perfect didn't translate well to the canvas, and the canvas would hold my name.
    Her legs were curled partially under her, breasts bared unselfconsciously, long neck graceful in the morning sunshine. Brayden's assistant, Suki, had placed the bench by the window with the most light pouring down on it earlier before giving me a glance that was all apology.
    "Is this position okay?" Meghan asked finally, fishing for a spoken compliment, even though I know I'd given her enough with my facial expression.
    Brayden always told me to never play poker…at least not for money. "Strip poker's probably okay," he'd joked.
    "The bench placement is fine. Not sure of your position just yet." Where are your flaws, Meghan? Show them to me. Come out, come out wherever you are…
    Meghan sighed, unappreciative of the work she couldn't yet see. She was already antsy. "You're not surprised I bid."
    "Not really. Maybe a little."
    She sighed. "This was probably a mistake."
    Really? Or was this persona a calculated move? "We'll make it work."
    Her eyes locked on mine. "Why would you do that?"
    I tilted my head and stared at her. She wouldn't be my BFF. Maybe she'd hate the portrait, but I wouldn't. I was going to create something that would reveal her, something I would always be proud of.
    I made art. Sometimes it revealed the ugly side of life, but the art itself was never inherently ugly.
    But I didn't tell her any of that. Instead, I skimmed over her question and said, "The pose isn't working. It's been done a thousand times. Let's try for different."
    She narrowed her eyes at me, unsure of whether or not she could trust me. "What are you thinking?"
    "Something less perfect," I said honestly. "You might have to get dirty. Literally."
    Surprisingly, she didn't object. For the next ten minutes, she sat and waited for me to give the next directions, which included me "painting" her, with Suki's help, with a mixture of brown paint watered down just enough to look like dirt. We moved the bench and threw down a drop cloth.
    It was far less Playboy bunny than her first pose and somehow way more seductive—at least I thought so, and I was pretty sure most red-blooded males who liked women would agree. This was dirty-sexy-hot, and Meghan actually seemed to enjoy it. Even her smile was wicked but not practiced…there was something of a teenage rebellion-freedom thing happening and I cranked up some classic rock as I sketched and lost track of time.
    "Lucas is a very complicated man. I don't think in all those years I ever even scratched the surface," Meghan started, out of the blue, and I was trapped. I just wanted to paint and finish, but I wasn't even close to being done, and if I walked now, I'd have to start all over again.
    I glanced up at her, acknowledging that I'd let her talk, then went back to shading my initial sketch. Her skin was even more gorgeous in the morning light, almost luminous, especially since her look today was very natural.
    "He needed me so badly at one point. I helped him through a difficult period. I was there for him, and after he used me to heal, he was gone."
    I wanted to tell her that Lucas wasn't