Christy Jeffries - The Makeover Prescription

With an effort, she ignored the weakness in her legs and drew in one ragged breath after another.

Each stroke of his hand matched the swaying tempo of the music coming from the cordless speaker propped up on the bathroom vanity. The muscles of his back moved in an orchestrated rhythm with the jazzy strains of a piano. The darkness outside made his reflection in the window almost mirror-like, and she saw the deep-set focus in his eyes, his concentrated brow and the hard lines of his set jaw. She could also see that he was completely transfixed in his own little world and had no idea she was there.

The professional in her wanted to cough or turn down the jazz music or do something to draw his attention to the fact that he wasn’t alone. Unfortunately, her body wasn’t behaving so professionally. Desire curled around her, squeezing so tightly it threatened to cut off the oxygen supply to her brain. Thank God the man was focused too intensely to witness her intrusion on his workspace because Julia didn’t think she could’ve taken a step.

She had no idea how long she stood there, just as absorbed in his movements as he apparently was in his painting. A softer, slower saxophone-based song switched on the moment his eyes met hers, and Julia wasn’t sure if the dizziness in her head was from the paint fumes or from the way he looked at her.

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