At the close proximity, Lucas' chuckle reverberated through Olivia, setting off butterflies in her belly.  The faint scent of his cologne – a touch of spice blended with the faintest scent of vague cinnamon – wafted to her nose.  Everything inside Olivia arced forward, seeking contact with his powerful frame, yearning to feel those hard planes of muscle.  Mere inches away, all she had to do was reach out one fingertip to trace his firm jaw, his full mouth.

His eyes held hers, unblinking. In the next heartbeat, his smile wavered, replaced by a strange softness that sent her pulse bounding and her heart hammering against her ribs. God, if he had been any other man, those signals screamed go. Warned loud and clear kissing came next. Kisses she hadn’t had, or wanted, since Robert.

“Did you finish the portrait?” Lower now, his voice hung in the awkward silence.

She swallowed, finding only the strength to whisper, “No.”

“I think you need inspiration.”

Unbelievably, his gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering long enough to send a wave of heat coursing through her.

She moistened her lips, tamping down a burst of nervousness.  “What kind of inspiration?”

Reaching out, he caught a lock of her hair between and twirled it between thumb and forefinger.  A jolt of electricity raced down her spine, raising the downy hairs on her arm.

“Not sure,” he murmured.  “Tell me what the pose is.”

Doing her best to ignore the pleasant sensations of his fingers and the heat that seeped into her shoulder where his wrist almost touched her, she swallowed again. “A… kiss.”

“Hm.” He pushed the lock of hair behind her ear, but instead of turning her loose, slid his fingers through the lengths and drew them over her shoulder.

She’d have sworn the gesture drew him closer. As she glanced down at his chest, he was so near, if she shifted at all, she’d brush against him. God, how she wanted to. One hint of welcome, and that mouth would find hers.  She felt it in her soul.