Cat couldn't get Evan out of her head. She had been trying since the moment he walked away from the café table the previous night. "Damn" she muttered as she stood up from the kitchen table in her apartment. She walked to the refrigerator to get chilled water.
She leaned against the cabinet and stared at the drawing pad on the table. The beginnings of a cityscape were apparent. The foreground was entirely erased. She often used either herself or Ande for the model of any woman in her art and her dad, because his features were the masculine manifestation of her own, or her friend Jake as the model for men. Because she both had the images of these people ingrained in her mind and pictures of them were scattered about the apartment, sketching them did not require their actual presence, except in the case of herself, which was convenient because it allowed her to work whenever inspiration struck. What was disturbing her was that when she sketched the male figure into the cityscape she, without being aware of it until after the fact, placed Evan hand in hand with herself.
She futilely tried to convince herself that it was Jake with longer hair, but it was obviously Evan.
She shook her head and glanced at the clock. It was nearly seven and since she planned to take him up on the "downtown art gallery, nine p.m." she needed to get dressed.
* * *
She pulled into the parking garage near the gallery a few minutes before nine. She usually ran a bit late, and a few minutes at these gallery shows never mattered in the least.
She had dressed in a simple black cocktail dress. It was strapless, form fitting, and mid-calf length with a slit over halfway up one thigh. She also had on her favorite strappy stilettos, which happened to be silver. She fluffed her hair one last time in the rearview mirror and touched up her lipstick, which really didn't add any color to her lips but provided a nice shimmer and the illusion of even greater fullness. She got out of her car and walked out to the sidewalk.
It was chilly out, but still not cold, as she strolled toward the gallery. It was a nice night for this late into the fall. The sky was clear and if she hadn't been in the middle of downtown, she was sure the stars would be breathtaking. She was hopeful that she and Evan could go for a walk later.
* * *
Evan stood in the entryway of the gallery. He was fidgety. And nervous. It annoyed and disconcerted him that she was doing this to him, already making him crazy. He had only met her less than twenty-four hours ago, after all. He knew nothing about her. In fact, he had no idea whether or not she would even show up. She hadn't explicitly said she would. Something in her eyes and smile was confirmation enough for him though. Something about her manner had also told him that she would actually know where the downtown art gallery was and would be comfortable in this setting. He was the one who wasn't exactly comfortable. Maybe she would want to take a walk. Or anything else. He had to put in an appearance, but he was already anxious to leave. At least the paintings were interesting tonight. And the punch was decent.
He had dressed to impress, not that it took much for him to look good. A black Armani suit never diminished his appearance though. His hair was loose and hung somewhat in his face. He didn't wear a tie. Only a black button down dress shirt with the top two buttons left open. He paced back and forth in the entryway. He glanced at someone else's watch. Almost nine. He hoped, more than he had hoped for anything in a long time, that Cat would walk through the door soon.
When he saw the angel in the black dress saunter or float or strut or however it was that she seemed to magically move to the door, his breath caught in his chest. He was sure he saw her eyes light up when she saw him as she walked into the gallery. He didn't want to get his hopes up too much.
"You look amazing," he said when she was close enough to hear him.
When she reached him, she cupped his face in her hands and placed the most amazingly light, sexy kiss he had ever experienced on his lips. Then she hooked her arm around his waist and said "Well, while we're in here, we might as well look at the paintings."
He laughed and put his arm around her. She seemed so small, physically, especially standing with him, but her personality and attitude made her presence stand out.
As they walked from piece to piece around the gallery, Cat's discussions of the various techniques and styles, along with the appearance that she was completely at home in the gallery, convinced Evan that she must be seriously into art. He was curious of what kind.
"What do you do?" he finally blurted out, while she was admiring the way the artist had blended some paints. She seemed a bit startled, but laughed and told him.
"I'm a senior in college. I'm going to the law school here in the city next fall. I paint. I draw. I am an artist, but law is how I will pay to live. I've been a freelance writer, a bank teller, a waitress, and a few other things. Now, how about you?"
"I'm an architect. An architect who has been really lucky."
He was sure she wondered what he meant by that, but she didn't ask. Perhaps she already knew him better than he knew himself. He sensed that she could read him like a book.
He looked down into her eyes, gave her a crooked grin and kissed her hard enough he had to pull her to him. When he stopped, she licked her lip a bit and gave him that smile that made him feel like he was melting.