The suspense was killing me. Well, ok. The razor sharp dagger had the actual pleasure, but still, I hated waiting.
The question that kept coming to my mind was, “How did I get myself into this mess?” and the answer was simple.
A woman.
I thought back to what started it all. It was a nice day. A pleasant day, even. The sun was full in the bright blue sky. Wispy clouds floated by randomly as though skipping through the sky. Birds sang out in joyful glee while a light breeze picked up the smell of jasmine and honeysuckle. As I walked the two blocks to work, I thought the day couldn’t be more perfect.
I believe that’s what the superstitious ones in the bunch will call “jinxing it”.
Sure enough, as soon as I got to my antique shop on the corner the skies started to cloud up. The birds fell silent as though hushed by an unseen conductor. Not paying much attention to it, I opened my store for business.
Thirty minutes later, the door flew open and a large figure stood in the doorway. Behind him, the skies let loose a barrage of thunderous claps and flashes.
“For goodness sakes, George, close the door.” I said to my brother.
“Have you seen the weather? Changed on a dime, it did.” George came around the counter and shook the rain off his overcoat.
“Haven’t really noticed, but hope it doesn’t affect business.” I went back to dusting off the Queen Elizabeth armoire.
“You never notice anything.”
“That’s not true. I’ve noticed that you’ve gained about ten pounds since Christmas.” Smiling at him, I continued. “Have you seen the dagger I left on the counter last night?”
“The Incan sacrificial one?”
“Yeah. I was doing research on it last night and left it on the counter. Turns out it belonged to one of the only Incan priestesses that ever ruled. It was said that she had magical abilities and ruled her kingdom for over three hundred years.”
“Hmm. Not sure if living to be three hundred is so magical. But, yes, I put the dagger under the counter.”
Hours later, as I was about to close down for the day, I heard a faint rap on the front window. My gut told me to ignore it. Probably just the wind. But, my head thought of business and I turned.
That’s when I saw her.
I was mesmerized. Long black hair swirled around a face that looked like an Egyptian princess. I slowly walked to the door, never taking my eyes off her. I couldn’t have if I’d tried. I was smitten. So smitten in fact that I didn’t notice her eyes following my every move like a bird of prey ready to dine.
The rain pelted against the window and the trees shook in horror at the wind and sleet. Yet, my only thought was to get this angel, this perfect specimen, out of the rain.
When I opened the door. She rushed into the store.
“Oh thank goodness you’re still here. I must speak with you.”
I couldn’t for the life of me think why this magnificent creature would need to speak to me.
“What can I do for you?” I asked, hoping my voice didn’t sound as pathetic as I thought.
“I’m looking for a dagger. My father gave it to my mother years ago. After their deaths, my brother sold it. It’s a family heirloom and I really must have it back.”
“Well, we have a nice selection of daggers over here.” I showed her the way. My feet felt like lead balloons tied to each other, but fortunately, I somehow managed to make it to the counter.
“No, no, no. None of these will do. Are you sure you don’t have any others? I was told it would be here.”
“No…I don’t think…..oh, wait.” I reached under the counter and lifted up the dagger that had come in last night. “I’m sure this can’t be what you’re referring to, as it only came in yesterday.”
She grabbed it from my hands and ran out the door.
Dumbfounded, I simply stared at her back. What in the world? I couldn’t believe what had just happened. It took about another five seconds for me to register what she had done and then I dashed off after her.
Outside, I glanced in both directions and saw the flap of her red overcoat swing around the corner to my left. I charged after her. “Wait, stop.” I called. She continued running. She flew over Main Street, ducked behind the diner, and fled up the trail towards the woods. What on earth was she doing, I wondered?
I ran after her. Was I still after the dagger, I thought, or had this become something more? My breath became labored and I realized I had left without my coat. Sweat poured down my back while sleet pelted my front. I could see the puffs of breath coming from my mouth in bursts, yet I never thought to stop.
At the top of the hill, she ducked down behind something and I lost her. I ran to the top and looked around. There! On the left. A small crevice. Was it a cave? Somewhere for her to hide?
Without thinking, I lowered myself into the crevice. It was a cave. Big enough for me to stand up in. I could see the flicker of lights at the far end and followed them like a moth to a flame.
Peering around the corner, I saw her. Naked, lying on the altar. The dagger raised high above her chest. The flicker of the torch light caressing every curve of her body. The sight stopped me dead in my tracks. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move.
Then she looked at me.
I burst into action. I ran to the altar and just as the blade sliced into her heart, I grabbed her hand.
I awoke to the sound of drums. Where in the world was that coming from, I wondered. It was dark, but I could see the stars. Ok, I thought, at least I know I’m outside. I tried to move, but my arms and legs were as heavy as cement. I looked down at my hands. They were tied to holes in the stone slab I was lying on. What in the world was going on?
A soft brush of a hand had me looking in the opposite direction. It was her. Standing above me. Dressed in feathers and leather. And pointing the dagger at my chest.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” She murmured. “You weren’t meant to be here.”
“Where is here?” I whispered back.
“My homeland. Peru.”
“How did we get here?”
The drums started to beat faster and that’s when I heard it. The chanting. Low and strong. Like a song on the wind that you’re not really sure is there. I looked back at her.
“I’m to be sacrificed, aren’t I?”
“Yes. When you travelled back with me, the king was frightened. He said it was a sign from the gods and that we should honor them with your blood. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re the Incan priestess, who owned the dagger, aren’t you?”
She nodded.
“Then do what you must.” I whispered. I closed my eyes. And I waited for the heat and the pain from the knife.
I really do hate to wait.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
6 months
“Are you sure?”
He nodded.
“Really, really sure? No way there’s a mistake?”
His cold fingers patted the back of my hand. “I’m sorry. There’s no mistake.” With his head down, he left the room.
Slowly, I got up from the examining table. I grabbed my shirt and put it on. Damn, inside out. I tried again. This time my arms got stuck in the sleeves.
The flood gates opened.
Falling into the closest chair, the tears fell from my eyes like a torrential downpour. I couldn’t stop myself. I just bawled.
Six months, I thought. Six months. What in the world am I going to do?
And that’s when it hit me.
Six months. Just six months. I had better get busy.
Standing up from the chair my mind starting racing. So many things to do. So many places to see. So many people to love.
I rushed from the cold, sterile office out into the warmth of the summer sun.
Tilting my head towards the heat, I closed my eyes and thanked the heavens for the opportunity to know my fate. To know how much time I had.
I had to make a list.
First stop, the bank. I closed all my accounts, took out all my money and liqudated all my assets. Ok, so in reality, I didn’t have any assets, but at least I wasn’t broke, either.
Next stop, the travel agency. A three month cruise around the world for me and my husband, please. Yes, we need to leave immediately. Yes, I want first class. Yes, I realize it’ll cost me.
Back home, I start making calls, sending emails. Gonna throw the biggest party the world has ever seen. I figure once I get back from the travels, I’ll spend time with the rest of my family and friends. Three months is probably enough for everyone. And then, right before I go, the party of the century.
I couldn’t wait. Wait a minute, was I really enjoying this? Was I really finally “living”? Had it taken the promise of death to realize what was important?
Sadly enough – Yes.
I realized that my life had been a regurgitation of daily habits, common experiences, and a comfort zone so invisible, not even God could see it. But now, now I intended to live. I planned to enjoy my days, to love openly and to have fun.
And that’s when it happened.
In mourning for my previous life, I cried.
Sad that I only had six months to live.
He nodded.
“Really, really sure? No way there’s a mistake?”
His cold fingers patted the back of my hand. “I’m sorry. There’s no mistake.” With his head down, he left the room.
Slowly, I got up from the examining table. I grabbed my shirt and put it on. Damn, inside out. I tried again. This time my arms got stuck in the sleeves.
The flood gates opened.
Falling into the closest chair, the tears fell from my eyes like a torrential downpour. I couldn’t stop myself. I just bawled.
Six months, I thought. Six months. What in the world am I going to do?
And that’s when it hit me.
Six months. Just six months. I had better get busy.
Standing up from the chair my mind starting racing. So many things to do. So many places to see. So many people to love.
I rushed from the cold, sterile office out into the warmth of the summer sun.
Tilting my head towards the heat, I closed my eyes and thanked the heavens for the opportunity to know my fate. To know how much time I had.
I had to make a list.
First stop, the bank. I closed all my accounts, took out all my money and liqudated all my assets. Ok, so in reality, I didn’t have any assets, but at least I wasn’t broke, either.
Next stop, the travel agency. A three month cruise around the world for me and my husband, please. Yes, we need to leave immediately. Yes, I want first class. Yes, I realize it’ll cost me.
Back home, I start making calls, sending emails. Gonna throw the biggest party the world has ever seen. I figure once I get back from the travels, I’ll spend time with the rest of my family and friends. Three months is probably enough for everyone. And then, right before I go, the party of the century.
I couldn’t wait. Wait a minute, was I really enjoying this? Was I really finally “living”? Had it taken the promise of death to realize what was important?
Sadly enough – Yes.
I realized that my life had been a regurgitation of daily habits, common experiences, and a comfort zone so invisible, not even God could see it. But now, now I intended to live. I planned to enjoy my days, to love openly and to have fun.
And that’s when it happened.
In mourning for my previous life, I cried.
Sad that I only had six months to live.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
As director of the board of Chicago’s third largest bank, Samantha “Sam” Worthington finished this month’s meeting. The nine other board members all convened around the coffee urn to finish their conversations about basketball and the weather while Sam went directly to her office on the 25th floor of the Worthington building. It was only when she closed the double French styled wood doors to her three room office suite did she finally begin to breathe normally again.
Man, I hate board meetings, she thought. All those stuffy old men just lying in wait hoping to catch me mess up. They’re worse than the big bad wolf that Red had to handle. But, at least that’s over for another month and I can get back to business.
The confidence came easy now, but it wasn’t always like that. Having grown up the only girl and the youngest of four in a strictly patriarchal family, she had to prove herself at every turn. Her mother never understood why she couldn’t just be happy with tennis and volunteer work. But that wasn’t good enough for Sam. She wanted a piece of the action.
Her father and brothers had all laughed when, at nine, she announced, at the country club annual event, that she would take over the family business one day. Even worse than their laughter, were the jokes and taunts at her expense for the next ten years. But, she knew it had made her tough. It didn’t matter that her father owned the bank; she had worked her way up from teller, and she was damn proud of it. So, when her father stepped down from Director of the Board, she outwitted, outsmarted, and outdid all of her brothers and won the position.
And now, that toughness translated into her everyday actions. Nobody messed with Samantha Worthington.
She headed towards the full bathroom to the right of her main office, splashed some water on her face. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she thought, let me at those numbers.
An hour later, she glanced at the clock and smiled. She was meeting Reilly at her favorite restaurant today. The morning had flown by and it was already 11:30. Grabbing her bag from the bottom drawer, she buzzed her assistant and told her she was going to lunch.
The cold blast from Michigan Avenue had the maitre d’ looking up from the reservation book. His eyes widened.
“Ms. Worthington, I had no idea you’d be dining with us today. Welcome.”
“Thank you Pierre. The reservation is in my friend’s name. Reilly Thompson.”
As he led her through the restaurant, every eye in the place followed. Unfortunately, Sam was used to it. Considering herself more striking than pretty, she was one of those women that everyone noticed. She had high cheekbones, wide lavender eyes, and lips so full other women wanted referrals to her collagen doctor. Plus, standing at 5’11” and proportionally built for her size, she called attention to herself no matter where she went.
Looking over the menu at the Grand Lux Café, Sam was trying to decide if she should order the Greek salad and follow her diet, or go for the steak mushroom and cheese sandwich with extra crispy fries when Reilly sat down.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Sam said as she handed her menu to Reilly.
“I think I have, one minor problem, though…it’s me.”
After Reilly had filled Sam in on the details of her morning and included the fact that she’d gotten the brooch dated, Sam not only decided to pick the steak sandwich, but ordered a very large merlot to go with it.
“So, it dates back from the 1500s?” Sam asked.
“1567 actually. The frame is dated back to 1558, but the limning process revealed that the brooch was done in ’67. As a matter of fact, we were even able to tell that it was made somewhere in Northern Europe, probably England or Ireland. I still can’t believe it. How does it look so much like me?”
“Honey, it doesn’t look like you…” Sam handed Reilly her wine glass and gestured to the waiter to bring another. “It is you.”
“But how? How is it possible?” She absently rubbed her brooch. “How could someone in the 1500s create a perfect portrait of me?”
The two friends spent the better part of the next hour trying to figure out that very confusing question, but came up with nothing. Frustrated, Reilly changed the subject.
“So, what’s new in your world?”
“Oh, not much. Had our monthly board meeting today. I swear I can feel the hatred coming off some of those guys. Oh, my aunt’s birthday is tomorrow. I’d love for you to finally meet that side of the family.”
“You mean, you want me to finally meet your cousin.”
“Sure. What’s wrong with trying to set you two up? You’re perfect for each other.”
Reilly sighed. “You know I’m not into dating right now. Not since what happened with the ex.”
“Yeah, from what you’ve told me, that was harsh. Strutting over to your table to brag about his new wife and baby. I wonder how he knew you’d be at that restaurant. It sounds like he planned it. But, still. It was three years ago. Don’t you think it’s time you move on?”
“I can’t. That was also the night my parent’s plane went down. I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid, but I feel somewhat guilty about their deaths.”
“Look, you didn’t cause the crash.”
Reilly took a sip of her wine. “How can you be so sure? It was like I was there. What if my thoughts actually made it happen? I thought it was a dream, but it wasn’t. I was wide awake. I could feel the horror and the fear my mom experienced as their plane dove into the mountain range. My body felt as if it had been in the wreck. There was so much pain. And then, it was calm and I knew. I just knew they were dead. How can I not be the cause?”
Sam looked at her friend and put her arm around Reilly’s shoulders, “It wasn’t your fault, hon. You need to let it go.” Then Sam smiled the grin she was known for. “And the best way to move on is to take a lover…and speaking of my cousin….”
Reilly smiled and shook her head. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna have to kick your butt in karate class tonight.”
“Yeah, like that could happen.” They laughed and finished their lunch.
Back at work, Reilly hit the right corner of her desk twice; opened and closed the middle left drawer; opened the center drawer and voila, the hidden bottom in that drawer just opened right up. She remembered when she’d first found it. She had been eight and her reward had been her father’s stash of chocolate caramels. According to her father, the desk was dated back to the early 1500s and he claimed had been used by Mary, Queen of Scots.
She wasn’t sure about that, but it did have its own charm, like an old book or worn down stone, that reeked of ancient documents and important treaties being signed on it. Dark, imperfect wood gleamed from years of polishes and the desk even spoke of romance. Carved into the wood, hidden under the top were the initials IM + R something.
Reilly used to imagine the handsome lord who’d carved his initials into the rich wood. Who had been his lover? Was it someone of high lineage or a simple maid? She would spend hours sitting under that desk and dreaming of the handsome couple giggling while they made their mark. It made her feel like she was back in some fantastical romance taking place in medieval Scotland.
It was almost seven by the time she came up for air and realized she was going to be late for her Karate class if she didn’t leave now. They were sparring again today and that was Reilly’s favorite part. On the drive over, she remembered the first time she sparred for her black belt.
Reilly and the tall blond woman in the dojo had beaten every other opponent, men and women, and were set to challenge each other. The Sensei looked at them both and knew this was going to be exciting.
Both hard driven.
Both determined.
Both tough as nails.
Both ready to do whatever it takes to win.
Both equally matched.
They sparred for a total of forty-five minutes before the Sensei called it a draw. Exhausted and beaten up, they bowed to each other and smiled. Sam crooked her head towards the door, “Don’t know about you, but I could really use a drink.”
They became instant friends.
Reilly walked into the dojo smiling at the memory of that first meeting three years ago. She spotted Sam and walked over.
“Hey, girl.”
“Hey! So, how’d the rest of the day with the spooky brooch go? Any news?”
“Nothing really. Billy did some more research. He came up with a couple of famous artists from that time, but nothing concrete. I read through some of it today, but that had more to do with a sport called curling. I’ll finish reading it later at home. Maybe he came up with something we can latch onto. ”
“Well, if not, give Billy time. He’s a whiz with research, and will go to the ends of the earth to help you.” Sam winked.
“Quit it, Billy’s my assistant, he’s 24 and he’s not my type. I’ve already had this conversation with you about thirty times. C’mon, let’s spar. I’m ready to kick your skinny butt.”
A few hours later, Reilly was back at home and reading all the information Billy had gotten from the internet earlier. Although she knew a lot about the time period, clothes and customs, Billy’s research hit on topics she was less than familiar with. He had gotten information about artists specializing in limning. There was one in particular that caught her attention. Ian MacDougal.
The sketch of what he was supposed to look like had her doing a double take. Strong jaw line, long black hair tied back from his face, eyes that even in 2-D made you want to confess to anything. He was definitely the epitome of the “sexy artist”. Looking over his biographical information, Reilly learned that he was from Scotland and had made a name for himself by not only painting portraits but through revolutionary inventions.
As director of the board of Chicago’s third largest bank, Samantha “Sam” Worthington finished this month’s meeting. The nine other board members all convened around the coffee urn to finish their conversations about basketball and the weather while Sam went directly to her office on the 25th floor of the Worthington building. It was only when she closed the double French styled wood doors to her three room office suite did she finally begin to breathe normally again.
Man, I hate board meetings, she thought. All those stuffy old men just lying in wait hoping to catch me mess up. They’re worse than the big bad wolf that Red had to handle. But, at least that’s over for another month and I can get back to business.
The confidence came easy now, but it wasn’t always like that. Having grown up the only girl and the youngest of four in a strictly patriarchal family, she had to prove herself at every turn. Her mother never understood why she couldn’t just be happy with tennis and volunteer work. But that wasn’t good enough for Sam. She wanted a piece of the action.
Her father and brothers had all laughed when, at nine, she announced, at the country club annual event, that she would take over the family business one day. Even worse than their laughter, were the jokes and taunts at her expense for the next ten years. But, she knew it had made her tough. It didn’t matter that her father owned the bank; she had worked her way up from teller, and she was damn proud of it. So, when her father stepped down from Director of the Board, she outwitted, outsmarted, and outdid all of her brothers and won the position.
And now, that toughness translated into her everyday actions. Nobody messed with Samantha Worthington.
She headed towards the full bathroom to the right of her main office, splashed some water on her face. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she thought, let me at those numbers.
An hour later, she glanced at the clock and smiled. She was meeting Reilly at her favorite restaurant today. The morning had flown by and it was already 11:30. Grabbing her bag from the bottom drawer, she buzzed her assistant and told her she was going to lunch.
The cold blast from Michigan Avenue had the maitre d’ looking up from the reservation book. His eyes widened.
“Ms. Worthington, I had no idea you’d be dining with us today. Welcome.”
“Thank you Pierre. The reservation is in my friend’s name. Reilly Thompson.”
As he led her through the restaurant, every eye in the place followed. Unfortunately, Sam was used to it. Considering herself more striking than pretty, she was one of those women that everyone noticed. She had high cheekbones, wide lavender eyes, and lips so full other women wanted referrals to her collagen doctor. Plus, standing at 5’11” and proportionally built for her size, she called attention to herself no matter where she went.
Looking over the menu at the Grand Lux Café, Sam was trying to decide if she should order the Greek salad and follow her diet, or go for the steak mushroom and cheese sandwich with extra crispy fries when Reilly sat down.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Sam said as she handed her menu to Reilly.
“I think I have, one minor problem, though…it’s me.”
After Reilly had filled Sam in on the details of her morning and included the fact that she’d gotten the brooch dated, Sam not only decided to pick the steak sandwich, but ordered a very large merlot to go with it.
“So, it dates back from the 1500s?” Sam asked.
“1567 actually. The frame is dated back to 1558, but the limning process revealed that the brooch was done in ’67. As a matter of fact, we were even able to tell that it was made somewhere in Northern Europe, probably England or Ireland. I still can’t believe it. How does it look so much like me?”
“Honey, it doesn’t look like you…” Sam handed Reilly her wine glass and gestured to the waiter to bring another. “It is you.”
“But how? How is it possible?” She absently rubbed her brooch. “How could someone in the 1500s create a perfect portrait of me?”
The two friends spent the better part of the next hour trying to figure out that very confusing question, but came up with nothing. Frustrated, Reilly changed the subject.
“So, what’s new in your world?”
“Oh, not much. Had our monthly board meeting today. I swear I can feel the hatred coming off some of those guys. Oh, my aunt’s birthday is tomorrow. I’d love for you to finally meet that side of the family.”
“You mean, you want me to finally meet your cousin.”
“Sure. What’s wrong with trying to set you two up? You’re perfect for each other.”
Reilly sighed. “You know I’m not into dating right now. Not since what happened with the ex.”
“Yeah, from what you’ve told me, that was harsh. Strutting over to your table to brag about his new wife and baby. I wonder how he knew you’d be at that restaurant. It sounds like he planned it. But, still. It was three years ago. Don’t you think it’s time you move on?”
“I can’t. That was also the night my parent’s plane went down. I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid, but I feel somewhat guilty about their deaths.”
“Look, you didn’t cause the crash.”
Reilly took a sip of her wine. “How can you be so sure? It was like I was there. What if my thoughts actually made it happen? I thought it was a dream, but it wasn’t. I was wide awake. I could feel the horror and the fear my mom experienced as their plane dove into the mountain range. My body felt as if it had been in the wreck. There was so much pain. And then, it was calm and I knew. I just knew they were dead. How can I not be the cause?”
Sam looked at her friend and put her arm around Reilly’s shoulders, “It wasn’t your fault, hon. You need to let it go.” Then Sam smiled the grin she was known for. “And the best way to move on is to take a lover…and speaking of my cousin….”
Reilly smiled and shook her head. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna have to kick your butt in karate class tonight.”
“Yeah, like that could happen.” They laughed and finished their lunch.
Back at work, Reilly hit the right corner of her desk twice; opened and closed the middle left drawer; opened the center drawer and voila, the hidden bottom in that drawer just opened right up. She remembered when she’d first found it. She had been eight and her reward had been her father’s stash of chocolate caramels. According to her father, the desk was dated back to the early 1500s and he claimed had been used by Mary, Queen of Scots.
She wasn’t sure about that, but it did have its own charm, like an old book or worn down stone, that reeked of ancient documents and important treaties being signed on it. Dark, imperfect wood gleamed from years of polishes and the desk even spoke of romance. Carved into the wood, hidden under the top were the initials IM + R something.
Reilly used to imagine the handsome lord who’d carved his initials into the rich wood. Who had been his lover? Was it someone of high lineage or a simple maid? She would spend hours sitting under that desk and dreaming of the handsome couple giggling while they made their mark. It made her feel like she was back in some fantastical romance taking place in medieval Scotland.
It was almost seven by the time she came up for air and realized she was going to be late for her Karate class if she didn’t leave now. They were sparring again today and that was Reilly’s favorite part. On the drive over, she remembered the first time she sparred for her black belt.
Reilly and the tall blond woman in the dojo had beaten every other opponent, men and women, and were set to challenge each other. The Sensei looked at them both and knew this was going to be exciting.
Both hard driven.
Both determined.
Both tough as nails.
Both ready to do whatever it takes to win.
Both equally matched.
They sparred for a total of forty-five minutes before the Sensei called it a draw. Exhausted and beaten up, they bowed to each other and smiled. Sam crooked her head towards the door, “Don’t know about you, but I could really use a drink.”
They became instant friends.
Reilly walked into the dojo smiling at the memory of that first meeting three years ago. She spotted Sam and walked over.
“Hey, girl.”
“Hey! So, how’d the rest of the day with the spooky brooch go? Any news?”
“Nothing really. Billy did some more research. He came up with a couple of famous artists from that time, but nothing concrete. I read through some of it today, but that had more to do with a sport called curling. I’ll finish reading it later at home. Maybe he came up with something we can latch onto. ”
“Well, if not, give Billy time. He’s a whiz with research, and will go to the ends of the earth to help you.” Sam winked.
“Quit it, Billy’s my assistant, he’s 24 and he’s not my type. I’ve already had this conversation with you about thirty times. C’mon, let’s spar. I’m ready to kick your skinny butt.”
A few hours later, Reilly was back at home and reading all the information Billy had gotten from the internet earlier. Although she knew a lot about the time period, clothes and customs, Billy’s research hit on topics she was less than familiar with. He had gotten information about artists specializing in limning. There was one in particular that caught her attention. Ian MacDougal.
The sketch of what he was supposed to look like had her doing a double take. Strong jaw line, long black hair tied back from his face, eyes that even in 2-D made you want to confess to anything. He was definitely the epitome of the “sexy artist”. Looking over his biographical information, Reilly learned that he was from Scotland and had made a name for himself by not only painting portraits but through revolutionary inventions.
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