The Genius and the Muse Read online

  Dee wiped her eyes a little and cleared her throat. “Yeah, I think we all do.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Claremont, California

  April 2000

  “Oh shit!”

  Sam looked up from her sketchbook, somewhat shocked at her roommate’s sudden outburst. Dee had fallen asleep on the couch after another all-day session working with Reed. They were helping each other with their portfolios for a studio class, and the deadline for turning them in was fast approaching.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I forgot to send those slide pages home with Reed, and he needs them first thing in the morning for Professor Simon. Oh, I’m so exhausted.” Dee groaned as she sat up, rubbing her eyes and grimacing.

  “He absolutely has to have them? Come on, it’s almost midnight,” Sam said, trying to turn back to her sketchbook.

  “Yeah, he lent them to me as a favor, and I forgot to give them back. Ugh, I better go and slip them under his door. He’s meeting with Simon first thing in the morning.”

  Sam sighed. She didn’t give a rat’s ass about Reed O’Connor, but she did care about Dee, who was obviously exhausted. She had taken a nap that afternoon, so she’d planned to work late anyway. She stood and held out her hand.

  “Here. Give ‘em to me. I’ll walk over to his place and slide them under the door. You need some sleep.”

  “Oh no, Sam. Seriously, he might be awake, and I don’t want you guys bitching at each other because of my forgetfulness. I’ll do it; just give me a minute.”

  “Sit. Or actually, go to bed. I’ll do it, and I promise I won’t bitch at him. It’s practically midnight, he’ll probably be sleeping. And if he’s not, I promise I’ll be civil.”

  Dee gave her an incredulous look, but handed over the clear slide pages she dug out of her backpack, then stumbled toward her bedroom. “Thanks, Sam. You’re the best,” she called out over her shoulder, smothering a yawn.

  Sam tucked the slides in her messenger bag, threw a light sweater over her pajamas, and grabbed her keys as she walked out the door. Reed only lived a couple of blocks away, so she decided to walk instead of taking her old pick-up truck to the photographer’s apartment.

  She would have liked to say she was annoyed by Reed’s almost constant presence in the apartment over the last month, but as much as he irritated her personally, Sam couldn’t deny how talented the man was. He also seemed to bring out the best in Dee, so she had enjoyed watching her roommate bloom creatively.

  Sam could even grudgingly admit the energy that flowed through the small apartment seemed to be benefiting her as well. She would never admit it to him, but Reed’s presence stimulated her in more than one way. She had done some of her best work when she was in the same room with him. She couldn’t explain it, because he was usually a complete asshole to everyone except Dee and his friend, Javi. The few times Chris had stopped by, Reed had curled only his lip at him, despite how nice Chris always was to Dee.

  In fact, thinking about Chris and Dee, Sam was beginning to think someone was dating the wrong roommate. Chris was a nice guy. Their conversations were pleasant, and they had a lot of common interests. Still, Sam had a feeling a “better off as friends” conversation was fast approaching.

  When she reached Reed’s building, she looked up to his second floor apartment, where a window faced the quiet street. There wasn’t a light on, but she did notice the window was open, and the thin curtain drifted outside, fluttering in the breeze that swept through the foothills that night. The moon was full and huge as it hung over the mountains and lit up the silent street.

  She stepped into the apartment building. The door looked like it had been broken for a while, and she remembered Reed saying the residents kept their doors locked. She walked up the stairs, intending to slip the slides under the door as quickly as possible and make her way home. But as she reached his closed door, Sam could hear Reed talking in his apartment.

  “No, no, no!” His low voice rumbled through the thin walls.

  She knocked, curious what had made the man sound so distraught. She hoped he wasn’t worried about the slides. It was just Professor Simon. After the sound of quiet shuffling, she heard his heavy footsteps approach the door. He opened it in a rush, and she saw him for the first time without a shirt.

  Damn. He really was as perfect as she thought he’d be naked—well, almost naked.

  Her gaze lingered on his chest. His abdomen was lightly defined, and a thin line of dark hair trailed down the center of his stomach toward jeans that hung loose on his hips. She glanced down. The muscles around his waist were clearly defined, and he was barefoot.

  When she finally looked up again, Sam saw his eyes rake over her face as she examined him. In a heartbeat, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the apartment, shutting the door behind her.

  Reed pulled her into his arms and leaned down, swiftly laying his lips on hers in a consuming kiss. One hand spanned the small of her back, and the other threaded through her hair, tilting her face up as his mouth covered hers.

  She froze, stunned by his sudden move, her temperature soaring as his lips moved against her own. She felt, rather than heard, the whimper escape her throat. Reed’s stubble scraped against her skin, and she returned the kiss instinctively. Her hands lifted to his shoulders, clutching them as he pulled her closer. He kissed her without any hesitation, as if somehow, they had been lovers before.

  Sam finally pulled away, gasping for air. He stared at her, his eyes fevered and needy.

  “Am I dreaming?”

  “No.”

  She stood motionless in the circle of his arms.

  “Fuck.”

  Their eyes were still locked.

  “Reed—”

  “Take your clothes off. I need you in my bed.” His words tumbled out in a rush as he stepped back and gestured toward the far corner of the room.

  Sam’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  He pulled the messenger bag off her shoulder and pushed her toward the unmade bed across the room. The sheets were rumpled as if he had been tossing and turning in his sleep.

  “The light. Look at the light, Sam.” He mumbled as he pointed toward the small bed. “The moon coming right through the window. Look at the shadows. It’s so bright. It’s perfect. I just need—fuck! I need someone in the bed. A nude. Where’s that lens? Shit…” Reed trailed off, still muttering under his breath as he pulled camera bags apart looking for something and shoving back the dark hair that spilled into his eyes.

  Understanding dawned when she looked at the bed and the moonlight streaming through the open window. It was so bright it cast crisp shadows on the rumpled white sheets, which seemed to glow in the night.

  He needed a model to photograph. She nodded. Sam could understand that, though she was still stunned by his sudden kiss at the door and confused why he thought he had been dreaming.

  “Will you sit for me?” Sam looked up when she heard his voice, plaintive in the corner of the room. His expression was almost manic as he waited for her response.

  “You need a model,” Sam finally said, as he walked toward her with his SLR and a lens in his hand.

  He nodded, bending down at the table to affix the lens to the camera.

  “Just a model?”

  “Yes! Will you do it?”

  “Okay. Sure, I guess. But that’s it.”

  Samantha had modeled nude for both art classes and friends on numerous occasions. She wasn’t especially modest, but she did need to make sure she and Reed were on the same page as far as expectations went. It wasn’t like he’d been very secretive about his interest.

  “Fine. Of course.” He waved her toward the bed. She shrugged and moved over to get undressed. She had to admit, the light was gorgeous and abnormally bright. She completely understood why he wanted to capture it.

  “You haven’t been wearing any tight clothes today, have you?”

  “No, there shouldn’t be any lines—oh, maybe from my pan
ties.”

  He waved absently as he took some test shots of the bed. “That’s fine, we’ll work around it. Nothing around your breasts?”

  “No, I was in PJs most of the afternoon, actually. I just threw on shoes and a sweater to come over here.”

  “Tan lines?”

  “Summer hasn’t started, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Perfect.” His gaze lingered on her for a few moments as she undressed, but she quickly slipped under the thin sheet, and he bent down to move her arms and legs where he wanted to drape the material to cover her.

  Sam inhaled sharply at the feel of his callused fingers on her skin. Though she had modeled before, the heated kiss they’d shared was throwing her off her usually remote modeling demeanor.

  Reed finally reached up toward her head lying on his pillow and slowly pulled the tie from her hair. Sam had forgotten she’d put it up earlier, and she couldn’t help but hold her breath as he gently tugged long sections over her shoulders to trail along the swell of her left breast. His own breath caught as his fingers hovered over her. His eyes met hers, and she could feel the energy snap as they stared at each other.

  “Comfortable enough?” he whispered hoarsely.

  She nodded and relaxed back into his pillow as he moved toward the table where he had set his camera. He stared at her, lying in his bed as if she had just woken from a dream in the moonlight. He swallowed visibly and began to work.

  Sam lay frozen in place, her body utterly still as her mind raced. She was surrounded by his scent as she lay swathed in the sheets—soap, the faint scent of the aftershave he sometimes wore, and a trace of developer fluid. Her eyes followed him as he murmured instructions to her and moved around the room, completely focused on her body and the light. He reached over occasionally, adjusting an arm, a piece of hair, or the drape of the sheet. Every time Reed’s fingers brushed her, they raised goosebumps. She was utterly aware of every small movement he made and each click of the camera as he captured her in the quickly shifting light. His eyes were so focused, Sam felt as if she could burst into flames at any moment.

  He was hypnotic.

  After what was probably an hour, Reed began to slow, and it was as if the energy drained from the room. He came and knelt beside her, setting his camera on the floor by his feet. His hand reached over, pulling the sheet to cover her more securely.

  Sam stared at him in the dim light, her chest heaving as if from physical exertion, though he was the one who had been darting around the room. He reached toward her hair, and she captured his hand with her own, finally breaking her stillness as she wove her fingers with his.

  He let out a ragged breath. “Sam…”

  She didn’t speak, but pulled him toward her, sitting up slightly as she drew his head closer. The sheet fell away until they were pressed against each other. His chest was cool against her burning skin, and she lifted her face to his.

  Unlike their rushed kiss at the door, when Sam kissed Reed she drew him to her slowly, as if afraid he might bolt across the room at any moment. Her soft lips touched his, tentative after the previous hour, unsure of which steps to take and what lines to cross. As she continued stroking his lips with her own, the tension drained from his shoulders and he relaxed into her mouth. His arms encircled her, and his fingers pressed into her bare shoulders. He slipped into the small bed and lay behind her, still wearing his jeans.

  His chest lay against the burning skin of her back, and Reed reached down to pull the sheet up, covering her as his arm draped over her naked body. His head lay next to hers on the pillow, and she felt him run his swollen lips along the nape of her neck as he nosed the hair away, inhaling deeply. His exhaustion creeped over her, and within a few minutes, they were fast asleep, lying next to each other in the fading moonlight.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Laguna Beach, California

  March 2010

  Kate used the key he had given her, opening the shop door later that night after hours of waiting to surprise him at his house. Moving silently through the front room, she hesitated, her heart fracturing a little more with each step and each familiar groan, as she approached the back room.

  They were pressed against the back wall. The girl’s legs were wrapped around his hips as she sat on the edge of the unfinished surfboard he had been working on. Beer bottles lay scattered, and a whiff of pot smoke lingered in the air.

  They didn’t see her for a few minutes, and her heart broke as Kate watched the man she thought she loved screw a nameless girl in the back of the shop his parents bought him.

  She must have choked. Maybe she cried. But the girl’s eyes lifted toward hers, and Cody’s shoulders began to turn.

  He only caught a glimpse of her wild hair as she disappeared into the night.

  “Kate!”

  Part Four: The Sculptor

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Pomona, California

  May 2010

  “Hello?” Kate had to shout over the pounding punk music that roared out of the warehouse. She pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit industrial studio.

  “Mr. Lugo?”

  The music seemed to be coming from one corner of the warehouse, so she walked carefully in that direction, dodging sheet metal, rebar and various concrete blocks scattered haphazardly around the huge space. She swallowed nervously as she approached the source of the noise, thinking perhaps Dee had been mistaken in directing her toward the notorious sculptor.

  As she walked around a seemingly random corner created by cinder blocks and a reinforced steel door, she saw the sputtering light of a stick welder and the hulking form of the famous sculptor, Javier Lugo.

  He was reaching upward, welding a massive piece that resembled a ragged flame turned upside down. The music continued to blare as he worked and a shower of sparks fell across his leather-shielded legs. His face was covered by a riotously painted helmet, and his arms were encased in the cow-hide sleeves typical of a working welder.

  “Mr. Lugo?” she shouted again as the song changed.

  The welder shut off immediately, the flickering blue star disappearing as he lifted his helmet and glared at her with angry black eyes.

  “Who the hell are you?” he shouted. “Get out of my studio. This isn’t a gallery.”

  “Ow!” Kate stubbed her toe on a partially broken cinder block as she continued walking toward him. “Um… my name is Kaitlyn Mitchell,” she tried shouting over the song that had just started.

  “What?” he yelled back. Setting his equipment down on a rolling cart next to him, he pulled off his thick leather gloves and picked up a remote control he used to turn the music off. The space echoed with quiet as he turned back toward her, scowling.

  “Did Lydia send you? Are you from another fucking newspaper?” he asked, his deep voice echoing through the warehouse. Looking her up and down, from the toes of her canvas shoes to the Ray-Ban sunglasses that rested on her head, he grunted. “Shit, you’re a student, aren’t you?” He shook his head. “I don’t use assistants, little girl. Go away.”

  He turned back toward the cart, picking up his gloves and flipping his helmet down.

  “Wait! I’m Kate Mitchell, Dee’s friend. She said she called you?” Kate’s voice raised hopefully, though she was starting to doubt the cranky artist would tell her anything useful.

  He paused, lifting his helmet again.

  “Dee’s friend?” His forehead furrowed in concentration. “I thought you were coming tomorrow. Wait, what day is it?”

  “It’s Saturday.”

  “Well, shit. No wonder Mari was pissed off,” he muttered, throwing his gloves on the floor and pulling his brown sleeves off, revealing a sweat-drenched undershirt with no sleeves. He pulled his helmet off and set it on the cart. His hair was dark brown and closely cropped, and Kate watched him silently as he bent to remove the leather chaps that covered his jeans. He took a moment to stretch and rub his neck which had been kinked at an angle as he worked.


  Javier Lugo was built like a bulldog, a massive one. His round head sat on a thick, muscular neck, and his broad shoulders were layered with the musculature he had developed from years of working with wood, metal, concrete, and stone. Though his hair and eyes were almost black, his skin was unexpectedly fair—and colorful, swirling tattoos marked his forearms and peeked from the back of his collar. He twisted his neck in either direction, and she heard it pop.

  Kate winced at the painful sound, and he caught her out of the corner of his eye. A grim smirk crossed a face that would never be described as handsome. Kate saw the scar at the corner of his mouth turn up as he watched her. Javier Lugo may have been famous in art circles, but he would never be a celebrity.

  “Not as pretty as O’Connor, am I?”

  “Huh?” she asked, startled from her careful study of his square jawline. ”What? Pretty? No, you’re sort of… brutish-looking, aren’t you?”

  He let out a biting laugh and wiped his face with a red shop rag. She realized, as she walked closer to him, that though he wasn’t much taller than her own five feet-four inches, his sheer physical presence and crackling energy dwarfed her. He walked over to a linoleum covered table with three mismatched chairs. Then he pulled out a Marlboro Red and lit it, finally sitting and gesturing to the chair across from him.

  “You want a beer?”

  Kate curled her lip. “It’s ten o’clock in the morning.”

  “Well, I’ve been working here for the last two days straight, so I don’t really give a flying fuck what time it is.” He puffed out a stream of smoke. “Do you want a beer or not?”

  Her mind flashed to a dark room filled with scattered beer bottles and smoke. She shoved the memory back and shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

  “Great. Get me one, too. They’re on the bottom shelf of the fridge over there.” He nodded toward a corner of the warehouse where there was a sink, a work table with a steaming crock-pot, and a toaster oven. Next to the sink sat an old avocado-green refrigerator missing a handle.