BLURB: Journey into the lives of two artists, through the streets of London, the shadows of the underground clubs and a secret past, and into their souls to believe in love.
American artist, Elizabeth McAlister searched for ten years for the dark art student she gave her heart to in a Soho nightclub. When the famous underground artist, Puzzola, appears out of the shadows in her London studio one night, a summer of intense passion and dark secrets begins. As she falls deeper in love with him, Elizabeth tries to rescue Puzzola from a tortured life he refuses to talk about. Unfortunately, his true identity and erotic past are exposed in a local newspaper. Even though Elizabeth holds his heart and soul in her hands, she’s not sure she can win the battle with the ghosts of his past or if their love is strong enough to survive.
Painted Soul - EXCERPT 1
“Breathe, Elizabeth, breathe,” she willed herself.
“Slide the rail, Elizabeth! Come on!” She saw Michael jumping up and down.
“Oh, hell. Why not!” She swallowed the last of her drink and slid down the rail into a vision of black and white.
“Hey there!”" She felt his breath on her cheek. His hands, with their strong grip on her bare waist, seared her skin. She looked into those piercing eyes. Piercing blue eyes, not black, but the color of the Caribbean Sea. Unlike many guys here, he wasn’t wearing the usual makeup sported around the club scene, just a bit of eyeliner. His lashes so dark, his lips so, so, so....
“Dance with me, my lady.”
Everywhere he touched, she burned. She fought to regain her senses. He seemed familiar. There was an entity projected from this young man that completely mesmerized her.
“What’s your name?” she wondered aloud.
“My friends call me, Puzzola,” his gaze never leaving her face. “You must be Elizabeth. I know your brothers.”
“It seems everyone knows my brothers!”
He smiled and nodded in agreement.
“Puzzola? That’s an unusual name.”
“It means, skunk. My friends in Italy gave me the name. Don’t understand why,” he said running his fingers through the bleached blonde stripe. “The name has stuck with me since.”
“Do you go to school in Italy?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes. I’m studying from the masters.”
While they danced she felt so aroused by him, and somewhat embarrassed by the awakening wanton emotion. Maybe Lynn was right, perhaps they did know each other and were lovers in another life. That would be too cool, she thought to herself. She’d never felt this way about any guy she dated, so hot and ready for anything he would ask of her. And she was only dancing with him, a total stranger! Every part of her body Puzzola touched was set afire, while the rest cried for his touch.
“You’re a good dancer,” Puzzola yelled.
“Thanks,” Elizabeth was knocked toward him by out of control dancers.
“Are you alright?” he frowned in the direction of a green-haired dancer bouncing away. “I’m not sure if we could get off the floor now if we wanted to. It’s getting more crowded. The band is about to play the best set of the night.”
“You must come here often.”
“Enough,” his mouth was next to her ear, “Your brothers drag me out of my den occasionally when I’m in town. If you came here, I wouldn’t need to be dragged. You are beautiful.”
Elizabeth felt herself blush. Several times she thought he would kiss her, but he didn’t. Puzzola grabbed her hand, placed it on his shoulder, turned his head with closed eyes placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. He then turned to face her and put her through a dance move, never taking his gorgeous eyes off her.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Elizabeth mumbled to herself while looking back at the dark figure.
“What?”
The heat between the dancers intensified as the music grew louder. Their world was spinning out of control. They felt a common bond, a shared destiny, but neither could fathom the depth of what they were experiencing. The music was too loud and the dance floor too crowded to carry on a conversation, but their eyes spoke. They danced into the night only with each other, constantly touching, with the exception of occasional interruptions by Lynn or her brothers’ untamed behavior.
As the club wound down in the early morning hours, Puzzola drew her into his arms and led her off the dance floor.
“I must see you again, Elizabeth,” he looked at her with desperate hunger in his eyes.
Suddenly, she was overcome with a sense of sadness; “I leave for New York in the morning. I start college classes next week.”
“What are you going study?”
“Art,” she replied breathlessly.
His eyes lowered to her lips and he nodded.
“Art. I like art,” he smiled crookedly. “Promise me, you will study hard and become undeniably skillful in your chosen medium. If you are true to your heart,” he tapped her chest with a long finger, her heart fluttering with his touch, “I promise you,” he paused to pull her closer, “we will meet again.”
His lips caressed hers. Elizabeth melted. If he hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she probably would have fallen into a heap on the floor. She slid her arm over his shoulder to tangle her fingers in his long, soft black hair. Puzzola groaned as she ran her other hand over his painted cheek and her fingers through his blond stripe. She inhaled rapidly as he pulled her upward to place feather kisses on her neck and collarbone. It felt so good, so right pressed against him. His lips came down hard on hers, parting her lips for a deep, intense kiss that reached into the depths of her soul.
“There is so much I want,” his voice was raspy. “I want to be with you. I want to take you where I know you want to be.”
“I wish I didn’t have to leave in the morning,” Elizabeth could hardly breathe. She was ready to give herself, and would have bargained with the devil himself for more time tonight in London. If he asked her to spend the night with him, she would.
“There is not enough time to kiss you. Not enough time to touch you. You are in my soul, Elizabeth McAlister. Remember my promise, we will meet again,” he whispered the pledge to her as he rubbed her temple with his thumb.
He ran his long fingers across her cheek to the back of her head and kissed her with greater intensity than before. She felt him claiming her, possessing her. With their bodies flattened against each other, she felt them fusing together. She could feel his heart beating as fast as hers was pounding loud in her ears.
As he pulled away, Elizabeth asked, “What’s your real name?”
“Puzzola,” he responded as he bowed his head and a lock of blonde hair fell across his dark eyebrows and ocean eyes. With two fingers, he gave her a jaunty salute and disappeared into the crowd.
“Ready to go, Elizabeth?” Michael’s voice said bringing her back to reality. “You all right, doll? You look like you did at the funeral. You were supposed to make a good memory to take home, remember?”
Why did she feel like she just lost something dear? “I did, I think,” she gulped. “Michael, do you know a guy named, Puzzola?”
“Yeah, he’s like a rebel, a punk, but a real upright guy though. Comes from an aristocratic family, but he wants to do his own thing," Michael smiled. “He’s studying art in Italy, and his father is totally freaked out about it. He’s not following the ‘master plan.’ Kind of sounds familiar, huh?”
“What’s his real name?”
“Ah, he just goes by Puzzola.”
Michael wasn’t stupid; he made a point to keep an eye on the girls through the night. When he took a break from dancing during the crush, he saw the heat between Elizabeth and Puzzola. Too bad Father wouldn’t let her study in London.
Puzzola, being Erick’s age, was a member of the brothers’ inner circle of friends. A group built on honesty and trust. He could trust Puzzola with his sister; he always thought they’d make a good match. But the fire he saw ignited tonight could build into an inferno. Perhaps when they are a little older and can handle the blaze, they might be given the chance to burn together. In the meantime, he’d be the overprotective big brother.
He put an arm around Elizabeth to lead her outside. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Puzzola with the same lost gaze on his face. Michael smiled at him only to receive a nod from the striped head. They seemed made for each other, both being creative and emotional. Maybe soul mates, but now was not the time in their lives to test such waters. He didn’t want to see his sister hurt, or lose a good friend to bad timing. He would make sure they would meet again some day.
“He got under your skin, little sister,” Michael said. “To be honest with you, that’s the first time I’ve seen him on the dance floor. You two melted The Place down! Come on, let’s get back to the flat. You have a long trip ahead of you.”
Elizabeth looked up to her oldest brother and had a sinking feeling he wasn’t referring to her plane ride back to New York.
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