His statement implied she’d be coming back, an impression she immediately corrected. “I’ll pose for you today, but that’s all.”

“Stop irritating me.” He’d reached the end of the catwalk, and he turned toward her so he stood silhouetted against the stone arch. She felt a tiny erotic thrill as he watched her approach with his legs braced and his arms crossed over his chest like an ancient warrior.

She gave him her diva’s gaze. “Remind me again why I even wanted to see it.”

“Because I’m a genius. Just ask me.”

“Shut up and get out of my way.”

His laugh held a deep, pleasing resonance. He turned away and led her around a curve of wall into his studio.

“Oh, Liam …” She pressed her fingertips to her lips.

The studio sat suspended above the trees in its own private universe. It was oddly shaped with three of its five sides curved. Late-afternoon light glowed through the northern wall, which was constructed entirely of glass. Overhead, the various skylights had shades that could be adjusted according to the time of day. The layers of colorful paint splatters on the rough walls, the furniture, and the limestone floor had turned the studio into a work of modern art all its own. She had the same sensation she experienced when she stood inside the Getty.

Half-finished canvases sat on easels while others leaned against the walls. Several large canvases hung on special frames. Her mind whirled as she tried to take it all in. She might not have had much formal education, but she’d studied art on her own for several decades, and she wasn’t a novice. Still, she found his mature work difficult to categorize. All the influences were evident—the teeth-gnashing of the Abstract Expressionists, the studied cool of Pop, the starkness of the Minimalists. But only Liam Jenner had the audacity to superimpose the sentimental over those decidedly unsentimental styles.

Her eyes drank in the monumental, unfinished Madonna and Child that occupied most of one wall. Of all the great contemporary artists, only Liam Jenner could paint a Madonna and Child without using cow dung as his medium, or smearing an obscenity over her forehead, or adding a flashing Coca-Cola sign in place of a star. Only Liam Jenner had the absolute self-confidence to show the cynical deconstructionists who populated the world of contemporary art the meaning of unabashed reverence.

Her heart filled with tears she couldn’t let herself shed. Tears of loss for the way she’d let her identity get swallowed up by Craig’s expectations, tears of loss for the son she’d given away. Gazing at the painting, she realized how careless she’d been with what she should have held sacred.