Ruby (Landry 1)

"I'd be too embarrassed to draw you. Now stop. We came in here to memorize play lines," I said, opening my script. He continued to gaze at me with that look of pure longing on his face, his cerulean eyes darkening. I had to fix my eyes on the pages so he couldn't see the excitement he had stirred in my breast. My heart pitter-pattered when the image of him sprawled nude on a chaise flashed before me. I couldn't help but tremble. I hoped he didn't see the way my fingers fumbled with the pages of my script.

"Are you sure?" he questioned. "You never know about something until you try." I took a deep breath, put the script down, and looked up at him sharply.

"I'm sure, Beau. Besides, all I need is for Daphne to believe one more bad thing about me. She has Daddy nearly convinced that I'm some sort of wicked Cajun girl, thanks to Gisselle."

"What do you mean?" Beau asked, quickly sitting beside me. Breathlessly, I gushed forth, describing how I had been interrogated about Annie Gray.

"Gisselle told on you?" He shook his head. "I guess she's just jealous," he said. "Well, she has reason to be," he added, his eyes continuing to grow warmer. "I'm too fond of you now to turn back. She's going to have to get used to it and behave herself."

We stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Outside, the morning overcast had darkened into rain clouds and a hard downpour began, the drops tapping on the windows and streaking down like tears on someone's cheeks.

Gradually, Beau leaned toward me. I didn't move away and he kissed me softly on the lips. I felt my small wall of resistance start to crumble. Surprising myself, as well as him, I returned his kiss the moment his ended. Neither of us said anything, but we both knew the memorization session was destined to fail. Neither he nor I could concentrate on the play. As soon as I lifted my eyes from the words and met his, my mind stumbled and fumbled.

Finally, he took the play script from my hand and put it aside with his. Then he turned to me.

"Paint me, Ruby," he whispered in a voice as tempting as the serpent's must have been in Paradise. "Draw me and paint me. Let's lock the door and do it," he challenged.

"Beau, I couldn't. . I just couldn't."

"Why not? You paint animals without clothes," he teased. "And naked fruit, don't you?"

"Stop, Beau."

"It's nothing," he said, growing serious again. "We'll keep it a secret between us," he added. "Why don't we do it right now? There's no one here to disturb us," he said, and began to unbutton his shirt.

"Beau . . ."

With his eyes fixed on me, he stripped off his shirt and then stood up to unfasten his pants.

"Go lock the door," he said, nodding.

"Beau, don't . ."

"If you don't lock it and someone does walk in . ."

"Beau Andreas!"

He stepped out of his pants and folded them neatly over the back of the lounge. He stood only in his briefs, his hands on his hips, waiting.

"How should I pose? Sitting? Knees up? On my stomach?"

"Beau, I said I can't . ."

"The door," he replied, nodding toward it more emphatically. To move me faster, he tucked his thumbs into the elastic of his briefs and began lowering them over his hips. I jumped out of the chair and rushed to the door. The moment I heard the lock click, I knew I had let it go too far. Was it only because I didn't know how to stop him, or did I permit it to happen, want it to happen? I turned and saw him standing with his shorts in his hand, holding them in front of himself:

"How should I pose?" he asked.

"Put your clothes back on this instant, Beau Andreas," I ordered.

"It's done already. It's too late to turn back. Just start."

He sat down on the lounge, still keeping his briefs over his private parts. Then he nonchalantly brought up his feet and sprawled out, facing me. With a quick gesture, he raised his briefs and draped them over the back of the lounge. My mouth gaped.

"Should I lean on my hand like this? This is good, isn't it?"

I shook my head, turned away from him, and sat down quickly in the nearest chair because my pounding heart had turned my legs to marshmallow.

"Do it, Ruby. Draw me," he ordered. "This is a challenge to see if you can really be an artist and look at someone and see only an object to draw and paint, like a doctor separating himself from his patient so he could do what has to be done."