Six months later.

“Oh my gosh, Wagner, you have got to hold still. Where’s that QB focus you’re so famous for?”

Brett rolled his eyes and shifted slightly on the stool. “I’m damn sure I never did anything like this in my quarterback days.”

“That’s a shame because you probably could’ve distracted the other teams this way. Or at least all the females in the stands.” Paige laughed, the pure, carefree sound of it so beautiful it took Brett’s breath away. He would do anything to hear that sound from her as often as possible.

Even this.

The shadows were gone from her eyes. The wounds from Boyd Anderson’s attack completely faded. She was happy, no longer afraid the darkness would overtake her.

“Besides, you were the one who gave me this idea.” He couldn’t see her now but could hear the smile in her voice.

“I know, don’t remind me. I know,” he grumbled. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

“And this is for a grade. I’m almost done. So hold still, Wagner!”

Brett shifted again on the stool. “You make millions of dollars every year selling your paintings. Why on earth do you need to take a drawing class?”

He knew why. Her brain obviously knew how to draw with eerie realism, but she’d never been able to do it consciously. She thought taking a drawing class would help. Maybe trigger something subconsciously. Brett had thought it was a great idea.

Right up until a couple of hours ago when she pointed out that he’d once offered, actually demanded, that if she wanted to draw something that it would be him.

Naked.

So now his bare ass was on a stool in the middle of the room that use to hold such bad memories for her. He hoped to God this helped her let the fear and ugliness of the other drawings go.

“This isn’t ever going to get around the station, is it?”

“Of course not, honey,” she said from behind the easel, not even poking her head out to look at him. “I would make much more money selling it to your ex-cheerleaders.”

Brett groaned. The little minx might even do it too.

“Well hurry up. I actually ordered some paints and they came in today.” He pointed at the bag sitting on the couch. “I was hoping you could help me use them.”

Now she looked at him from behind the easel. “Really?” Her smile beamed at him. “You want to try painting? You didn’t have to order any paints. You could’ve used some from my studio.”

These were a very special kind of paints. Ones he was quite sure she didn’t have even in her extensive collection. He barely refrained from waggling his eyebrows.

“I know. But I didn’t want to use yours. So hurry so we can get to my painting.”

She put down the pencil. “I’m done. I’ve just been torturing you by making you sit there. I like looking at you naked.”

“Pervert.” He grinned. “Can I see it?”

She sighed. “Yeah. Bring your paints. That way I can give you a lesson in painting and won’t feel so bad. We can both compare our lack of talent.”

He grabbed the bag and came to stand behind her at the easel. When he saw the drawing she’d done, he burst out laughing.

It was terrible. Nowhere near the detail of the drawings she had done in her sleep. No one would ever recognize him from the paper on her easel right now.

She elbowed him in the stomach. “Don’t laugh.” But she joined him. “It is pretty bad. I’m going to have to start with something more basic, not the human body.”

“Why don’t you just stick to painting? I think that will be just fine.”

She turned around and he began unbuttoning the shirt of his she was wearing. Kissed her as he slid it off her shoulders.

“I thought I was giving you a painting lesson.”

He reached down and grabbed the special paint he ordered, holding it out in front of her.

Edible body paint.

“Actually, I’m going to give you a painting lesson.”

Her eyes widened and a wicked smile moved over her lips. “You know the best paintings take time. Hours. And lots and lots of lessons.”

He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her to him. “I can be a slow learner. I’m probably going to need lessons for the next fifty years or so.”

“I think I can manage that.” She barely got the words out before his mouth devoured hers and he smeared paint across her shoulders before slowly licking it off.

It was definitely better than the art class they’d had in high school.

* * *