The Sketcher's Mark (Lara McBride Thrillers Book 1) - Plot & Excerpts
The detail in his work was amazing. Her jaw was open when she saw it, struck by the sheer detail and mood of the pieces he had arranged in a square, a giant calling card on his easel that advertised his talent. He must have seen the look on her face because she heard him chuckling. The young women in the four sketches he had tacked to the back of his easel were so detailed, so real she felt she could almost reach in to the paper and caress their faces and feel their skin. There was something… otherworldly about them. As though he had drawn them in pencil and brushed them with a glaze of heaven. “Have a seat,” he’d said, motioning to the empty folding chair across from him. She couldn’t quite see his face as he was partially hidden behind the easel. His accent wasn’t French, it was somehow neutral with no way to tell whether English was his first language or not. That intrigued her, just another element about being in Europe that surprised and impressed her. It wasn’t like Los Angeles. It had culture and sophistication, an intelligence that was imprinted in the DNA of the people who swept by her. She was already smiling, ready to just congratulate him on his work and then head for the Metro to make it to the airport. She had stepped around to the folding chair and he looked up at her and smiled as though he had just seen the woman of his dreams. That impressed her even more than his work. It was that look in his eyes that made her stay.
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