Beauty Shot (Hope Parish Novels Book 5) by Zoe Dawson Page B

studying one of Kandinsky’s
woodcuts, and I was completely blown away that he even knew who
Kandinsky was. The man was one of my favorite artists. I even had one
of his prints in my office.
    “What?”
Deke said when he noticed our expressions.
    “Geezus,
huckleberry. You’re a brainiac,” Braxton said, but there
was pride in his voice.
    I moved closer,
finding his intelligence extremely sexy. “What do you think
about him as an artist?” I asked, stimulated by the way his
eyes sharpened.
    I couldn’t get
over the idea of being the first woman to touch his body in an
intimate way. Initiate him into the carnal. Every move he made, every
breath he took turned me on. I wasn’t intimidated by his
inexperience, because I couldn’t imagine that Deke would be
clumsy, he was such a fast learner. But I was blown away by his
ability to overcome his own appetites and abstain from sex when the
teenage boy years were so intense in both sexual exploration and
experimentation.
    “You love
this, guy, am I right?”
    “I do.”
    “I think he’s
an awesome artist, and I got interested in him when I was looking up
the firsts in the art world.”
    “One of your
surfing projects?”
    “Exactly.
Kandinsky’s career was a progressive move toward abstract
painting. His early works show scenes from his childhood in Russia,
and then he was using Impressionist tones similar to Monet. Bright
planes of color coming together to form easily recognizable houses,
rivers, and cloud-filled skies.”
    I couldn’t
resist adding, “Then he gradually transitioned to
less-distinguishable shapes, like the ones exhibited here.”
    Deke smiled and
nodded. “I love that he was the first abstract artist, ever.
Apparently Kandinsky saw the different artistic movements that
were developing while traveling throughout Europe from 1911 to
1913, and he later blended the Impressionistic ability to depict
sentiments rather than objects with the ability of Pointillism to
give a flat surface the illusion of depth, and the powerful Fauvist
use of color.”
    “Exactly! You
really do know him.”
    By now, Brax, Boone,
Verity and River Pearl had moved on, but I was locked in this
fascinating discussion with Deke. “His paintings from this time
are still made up of colorful shapes, but their meaning is more
open-ended.”
    “The thing I
love most about him is he was a deep thinker when it came to his
art,” Deke added. “His devotion to what he called inner
beauty, spirit of fervor, and spiritual desire were personally
important to him. He called it inner necessity.”
    “That’s
one of the things I found most interesting about him,” I said,
“his philosophical approach and his belief that art is
necessary. I have a print of his Composition VI hanging in my office.
I get great inspiration from it. Want to see it?”
    “What about—?”
    “We can catch
up with them later.”
    We left the museum,
and it was just a quick trip by cab over to my 18,500-square-foot
loft design studio in Hell’s Kitchen. It was pretty quiet just
now, since my staff was at lunch. I took Deke up the stairs to my
modern office space with the Kandinsky hanging in abstract glory
right across from my desk.
    He stood in front of
it, propping his mouthwatering backside against my glass and metal
desk. “What do you think?”
    He tilted his head.
“It’s classic and beautiful, just like you. Abstract and
complicated.”
    I stepped closer to
him. “So, this is true, not just a line? You’re a
virgin?”
    “Um, yeah, I
should have mentioned it, but how do you introduce that unless you’re
getting down with a lady?” His arm came out and snagged me
around the waist. “You going to help me out here?”
    I couldn’t
believe that I was going to say yes. But I did. I said yes.
    His face brightened
at the word. His mouth dropped to mine and I pressed my body against
his, full-length.
    “Yoo-hoo?
Anyone home?”
    No! I froze and my gut tumbled over and over. I thought I was going