Page 21 of Built of Illusions

People were the same. Over her lifetime, she’d encountered more good than bad. Most people did the best they could with what they had. So many reached out a helping hand when they were able.

One asshole wasn’t going to ruin her belief that life could always be better. She’d spent her adult years proving that a childhood with more downs than ups could be turned around. With every stroke of the brush, she reminded herself that her attitude was her choice, and she chose to dwell on the positives.

When the painting was done, she stood back and smiled. It showcased that humans could not only get along with nature, but they could enhance each other. It would make a perfect gift for Tansy and the others.

She hadn’t met the artist Nimii who had painted the gorgeous painting of Midnight Lake that hung above the dining room table Aisling had crafted, but she’d like to. The woman had a lot of talent and she would love to talk craft with her.

Josie’s painting was much smaller than the masterpiece Nimii had created, but the two pieces would complement each other in the lodge.

As she set the brushes to dry, fatigue filled her. A look at the clock showed it was closing in on four. Two restless nights in a row wouldn’t be a new experience for her, but she knew she’d be able to sleep now. The painting had exorcised the worst of the fear.

She grinned as she brushed her teeth and switched to a clean t-shirt. The painting wasn’t the only thing shoving out the fear.

As she pulled the t-shirt down, her fingers traveled the hem, mimicking Nico’s touch from earlier. Even remembering the brush of his hands had delicious shivers exploding all over.

She slipped the sketchpad from behind the tiny dresser and climbed into bed.

She flipped through the sketches she’d started years before. The first day she’d volunteered at the FBI, he’d been skeptical and that showed clearly in the sketch.

An arrogant tilt of the chin.

Brows drawn together, with a slight lift of the one on his right.

Jaw tight, not clenched, but not relaxed either.

At the time she’d thought I’ll show you I can help.

But even then, she’d seen past the careful façade the man created to the real man beneath.

She’d also drawn Nico’s face in a relaxed position and even one of him laughing. Not that she’d seen either during that first meeting.

But she’d known he wasn’t the image he portrayed. He was so much more.

In her sketch, his laugh reached his eyes. Just like it had tonight.

Josie flipped through the book, marveling that this man who had attracted her from moment one was attracted as well. She drew lots of pictures of people she didn’t know and more of people she did. She had dozens and dozens of notepads filled with faces. Friends and strangers showing all ranges of emotion.

Turning off the light, she set the sketchpad on the floor and snuggled her extra pillow.

Tomorrow she would draw more images of Nico. Of his hands as they traced her shirt. Of pleasure lighting his sexy almost-black eyes. The flecks of brown and hazel were there, but you had to look closely. Like so many things about Nico, they weren’t easy to see and know.

But Josie saw them, she knew them.

And now she knew more.

How his pulse kicked up at the same time his mouth quirked up in that sexy smile.

How he tasted.

How he used his hands to entice her.

Smiling, Josie pulled the pillow closer. Even though he wasn’t there for the next few hours, Nico would keep the nightmares at bay.

As long as the bastard causing those nightmares didn’t arrive at her door.

Chapter 8

Fine Art