Alex parked Jed’s Golf behind the scruffy building that was the Arts Workshop. A lager can skittered over his foot and came to rest against a mesh fence. Glancing around at the pot holes in the tarmac and the graffiti-covered walls he doublechecked he’d locked the car. Even on a crisp sunny day like today, the place was grim.
Ken stood next to a Christmas tree in the entrance hall. He was wearing a Santa hat. ‘Alex, my man,’ he said as they shook hands. ‘There you are. Come on in. I’ve got a few paintings I think would look great at the hotel. This way.’
The building was much better inside. There was a smell of freshly painted walls and the corridor had photographs displayed all along it. Someone had put festive red tinsel around each one. From his quick glance, Alex saw the photos were of the various workshops that had taken place. It all looked to be far more thriving than it appeared from first impressions. He followed Ken into his studio. There was no hint of the season here. Instead, the bare room was painted a blinding white and flooded with light from a series of velux windows. It smelled alluringly of oil paint and linseed oil.
Ken caught Alex staring up at the windows. ‘Your brother’s handywork. Not that he put them in himself, like, but he got us the funding. Sweet, aren’t they?’ He shrugged. ‘Loads of work still to, do but we’re getting there.’
Alex admired his enthusiasm. ‘I had no idea Jed had been so involved in fund-raising for the place.’
‘Jed? Yeah, boy’s done great. Still doing a bit, but he’s been too busy with that coffee joint lately.’ He went over to an easel and slid off its protective sheet. ‘Never understood why he’s got himself mixed up in that nonsense, but I suppose a bloke has to make a living.’ He stood back. ‘There. What do you think? Think it’s finished? Always hard not to keep going back to stuff. That’s why I’d like you to have it at the hotel. Can’t keep fidgeting with it if it’s up there.’
Alex crossed his arms and stared. He knew next to nothing about art. He’d never allowed himself the time off from the city to find out. But he knew what he liked and he liked Ken’s work.
The painting before him was an abstract. He couldn’t even begin to understand what the subject might be, but something about the cool green, grey and blue palette suggested a stormy sea, with an equally turbulent sky above it. He was reminded of the Turners his mother had taken him to see in the National Gallery when she’d had a brief but fervent fascination with art.
‘You like it?’ Ken’s voice was eager.
‘I love it.’
‘But?’
Alex shot Ken a grateful smile for understanding. ‘I love it, but it might be a tad riotous for a hotel designed to soothe the fevered brows of executives.’
Ken gave a short laugh. ‘Okey-dokey, my friend. What about something more figurative? She’s not ready yet but it won’t be long before I’ve completed her. You might recognise the subject. She made my paintbrushes fly. Think I’ve aced this girl.’ He strode to a corner of the studio and flicked off the stained sheet with a flourish. ‘Ta da!’
Alex stared. It wasn’t a completely realistic portrait, Ken’s work never was, but Eleri’s glorious hair and startling eyes were unmistakeable. Somehow his feet let him walk nearer. Ken had painted her against another vague seascape and he’d used the same cool tones as in the landscape. Here, though, the effect was languorous. Sensual.
Eleri sat half-turned away, the long lines of her back fading into a swirling green pattern. Her arms were raised, with one hand lifting her heavy hair away from the nape of her neck. The only point of sharp focus was her eyes. They looked straight at the viewer. Challenging and deeply sexy. Knowing. Something deep in Alex reacted. Tracing the lines of Eleri’s s-shaped pose, he took in the generous breasts with the hint of nipple, the toned body, the wide hips, before they dissolved into the abstract pattern.
Apart from the collection of bangles she always wore, it was perfectly clear Eleri had sat for Ken completely and utterly naked.
Arousal churned uneasily within him with something else. Disapproval? Surely not. He’d never known anyone like Eleri. All his other girlfriends had been Sloaney blondes. Home Counties, public-schooled and boring in comparison. They’d all drifted away when it became apparent he couldn’t give them the attention they thought they deserved. Eleri’s serenity and independence attracted him. Her alternative way of life and free spirit only added to her peculiar brand of glamour. But he wasn’t sure he could cope with this.
‘You alright, my friend? You’ve gone pale. This not right for you either?’ Ken was disappointed. ‘Magnificent though, ain’t she?’
‘Um.’ Alex cleared his throat, forcing himself to get a grip. Seeing Eleri like this had completely unnerved him. Her portrait was somehow both unearthly and provocative. And deeply disturbing.
He found his voice. ‘It’s an incredible painting, Ken.’
‘Still not right for the hotel, though?’
‘Maybe I’ll … maybe I’ll take the abstract after all.’
‘You do that, mate.’ Ken was delighted. ‘Give me a tick and I’ll get some bubble wrap round it.’
Alex slotted the canvas in behind the passenger seat of the Golf. His hands shook as he started the car’s engine. ‘Get a grip,’ he rebuked himself. ‘It’s art. Beautiful art.’
But in the far reaches of his mind lurked the unworthy thought: what sort of woman would so easily take off her clothes in front of a complete stranger?