‘You said to me your teacher is Robbo. He’s Scottish.’
Jasmine’s face burned. ‘He’s half-French, actually. But then you’d know that better than I do.’ She couldn’t control the note of sarcasm.
Corinne frowned and jerked her head back. ‘Why would I know that?’
‘Come on, Corinne. Stop pretending. I know you and Lachlan Robertson are having a love affair.’
Corinne spluttered. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I saw the portrait he painted of you. It was quite obvious you’d been making love. There was even a bed in the background. The sheet was trailing over the floor. And the way you were sitting. It was ...well … it was obscene. It wasn’t a studio life pose. It looked as though it was painted in what must have been his apartment. You looked like a ...’
Corinne gave a hollow laugh. ‘Une pu
