Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“Part of my day job,” Max answered easily. “It should make an interesting shading study.” With that, he stepped out of his pants and grabbed his sketchbook and pencil as he walked to the dais nude. In his rush to get out of the locker room, Max hadn’t bothered with briefs. He sat down on the stool and opened his pad. He wouldn’t miss a day of sketching to play model.
“My apologies to Sara. I didn’t realize that she was reacting to an obvious injury. Often people are here for the wrong reason, and I find it best to weed those people out quickly.”
Max glanced at the instructor and nodded, silently thanking her for taking the heat off Sara. He looked around the room, picking out someone to focus on for the evening. This had always challenged him.
Fascinated artistically by only certain people, Max could never have earned money as a commercial artist. He simply didn’t care to draw those he didn’t find interesting. Max didn’t care if someone was good-looking or not, athletic or full-figured. Emotions or experiences that shone through their skin from the inside drew his attention.
As he scanned the other artists, his gaze returned three times to the instructor. She had pulled up a chair near his abandoned desk and now worked on capturing his image. With his choice made, Max roughly captured the shape of her face and shoulders before concentrating on the details.
Her blue eyes held shadows in the brightly illuminated classroom. More intrigued than ever, Max added shading to capture the slightly haunted look hovering in her eyes when she didn’t think anyone was watching. The faint worry lines between her eyebrows puzzled him. Had challenging students or her personal life added to those? To his surprise, his curiosity wasn’t his normal scan to take stock of potential threats. Intrigued by the woman behind the professional demeanor, Max wanted to learn more about her.
As he added details, he completely forgot his role as the model for the class. Time seemed to freeze and glide by simultaneously in a strange contradiction. When the instructor rose and closed her notebook, Max looked in amazement at the clock. It was five minutes to nine. Class was over.
“Artists, let’s thank our first model. He was a wonderful focus for our first class.” The instructor led a brief round of applause before asking everyone to write their names legibly on the back of their drawing and to add questions or concerns that they would like her to address during the next class.
He stood and walked back to his chair, quickly redressing before following her instructions. Looking at his sketch, Max guessed that with more time the image could be one of his best. Unfinished in any way, he found himself reluctant to surrender it. The expression he’d captured pleased him. Or is it the subject you’re fascinated with?
A male voice interrupted his self-reflection. “Hey, thank you for going first tonight. We were all sitting here in shock thinking that we’d be the models. You made it look easy.”
Max looked up at the young, slender man standing in front of him. He’d heard him approach but had let his classmate speak first. “You’re welcome. Posing wasn’t the worst thing that happened to me today,” he joked.
“Obviously. I’m Dean,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Max. Nice to meet you.”
The compassionate female nurse from earlier echoed Dean’s words. “Hey, ditto! Thanks for going first. And thanks for taking the heat off me for reacting to your bruising. I’m an ER nurse. That looks bad. Have you gotten them checked to make sure your ribs aren’t broken?”
“Hi, Sara. I figured you were either a mom or in healthcare. Thanks for being concerned. No ribs broken. I know what that feels like,” Max said lightly.
“I bet you do,” Sara said. “And you’re right on both guesses. I have two rambunctious boys—five and seven. Don’t miss picking up a syllabus. She passed those out before you got here.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that when I turn in my work,” Max said.
One by one, he met the rest of the class. Max hadn’t planned to break the ice by getting buck-naked on campus, but it had worked. As everyone cleared out, Max picked up his sketch and walked to the instructor standing at the desk.
“My apologies for arriving late. It won’t happen again, whether or not the door is locked. I’m Max Zion.” He offered her his hand.
She hesitated a moment before setting her slender fingers on his. “Saylor Andrews. I’ll hold you to that.” Saylor withdrew the touch quickly.
“Yes, ma’am. I will let you know that I’m on active duty. If my team is deployed suddenly, I may miss class.”
“Do you have time to alert me?”
“Sometimes. I can try to email or call if I have service and clearance. Can I pick up a syllabus? I bet you’ve included your contact information there.”