“You look like you want to touch.” The sensual, raspy timbre came from his left.
Spencer hadn’t heard anyone approach—he’d been so focused on the painting. Even now he couldn’t look away to acknowledge the person speaking. “I’m not sure. I can’t decide if I want to touch it or take a lighter and burn it. It makes me…”
“Now, now, you can’t just stop there,” the man spoke again. “What does it make you…? Fill in the blank.”
At the demand, Spencer wondered who the man thought he was, telling him to do something. For some reason, he decided to humor him. “It makes me feel like an emotional punching bag. Like I’ve taken some major blows but am better for it. Very deep, and I think I like it.”
“You sound surprised.” The man moved closer. “Didn’t you like the other paintings and sculptures in the show?”
“They were also very emotional. Makes me wonder about the artist and what hell he lived through to come up with this. I wonder how he’d even let anyone see all these pieces that reveal so many personal things about him. It’s either very brave or crazy.” Spencer crossed his arms over his chest. “But that doesn’t really answer your question. The other stuff was fine but not my thing. Now this one is…” He stared at the painting again. “Fucking awesome.”
“Your enthusiasm at the painting pleases me,” the man said. “Why would you care?” Spencer turned and lowered his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as he spotted The Watcher. “Hey, why were you staring at me earlier?”
“I was staring at you a lot earlier than that. It just took a while for you to find me.” The Watcher smiled widely. “It became sort of a hide and seek for me to stare and see how long it would take you to notice, then be out of sight so you didn’t know who it was. That is, until I let you see me the last time. You have very great instinct and almost caught me a few times. Are by chance in law enforcement?”
“I’m a Detective in the Hollisville Police Department.”
“Where do you work out of?” “The Harris Street station. Why?”
“I might just come looking for you.”
It sounded like a warning as well as a caress to Spencer. He frowned, not sure what to make of The Watcher. He was even sexier up close.
“Why were you playing hide-and-seek so I wouldn’t see you were watching me?”
“Because I wasn’t sure what to do about you, Detective.” The Watcher cocked his head to the side, studying him. “You’re an anomaly and I wondered why you were here. An artist showing doesn’t seem like your thing.”
“It’s not. I’m here because of my friend Mercer.”
“Ahh… Mercer. He is such a fascinating man. Great character to his face. Now if I could convince him to let me paint him… No, I would make a bronze of him to capture that strength and vitality.” The Watcher smiled.
“I’m going to assume that you’re Craig Scott—the artist the show is for—the one who molested Mercer the first time you saw him.” Spencer chuckled. “It was as amusing as hell when he told us the story.”
“From the familiar way you speak of him, I’m thinking you’re one of the best friends he’s mentioned.” Craig put his hands behind his back and smiled again. “I’ve met Dominic, but not any of the others who Mercer calls best friends.”
“If you go around the room, you’ll get to meet them.” Spencer gestured around.
“Maybe later. For now, I’m having a fascinating conversation with the most intriguing man.”
“Me?” Spencer laughed. “You’re full of a load of shit.”
“No, I’m not.” Craig moved closer. “I am intrigued. You didn’t try to blow smoke up my ass about my paintings. The one you loved is called Freedom and that, along with the one to be revealed soon, are my favorites. Yeah, I know as an artist I should love all of them equally, but this and that”—he pointed at the painting they stood before and the one that was covered—“showcase all I wanted to portray in this show. And, Detective, I’m both brave and crazy. You would do well to remember that. I feel deeply and when I do, look out. Nothing stops me.”
“Why does that seem like a warning?”
“Oh it’s not. It’s a promise.” Craig widened his eyes.
“Stop flirting with me,” Spencer said firmly.
“Oh good, you picked up on what I’m doing, Detective. I was worried for a moment you might have missed it.” Craig’s eyes twinkled.
“You’re flirting with me, yet calling me Detective. Why aren’t you calling me by my name?”
“As soon as you tell me your name, I’ll call you by it.” Craig moved closer still. “And if you’re lucky, maybe even scream it as you fuck me.”
“Wow, we go from meeting to fucking. You move fast.”
“When I see something I want…” Craig shrugged, a lazy yet graceful gesture.
“Well I might see something I want, but I like the foreplay of it—the seduction leading up to the sex.” Spencer couldn’t help the grin on his face.
Craig might be intrigued by him but Spencer’s curiosity was piqued, and he wanted to know more about Craig.
“I can do that too, Detective.” Craig moved another step. “I’m good at adapting. It’s one of my many talents.”
“I’ll make note of it.” Spencer took a deliberate step toward him.
Craig’s eyes widened, then a smug smile curled his lips.
“And my name is Spencer.” |
