Beauty Shot (Hope Parish Novels Book 5) (2 page)

“I know where
babies come from, Brax,” I said.

“But you ain’t
never been with a woman.”

“How the hell
did you know that?”

“I bet folks
think you have, ‘cause of the way you look, but I know you
haven’t. I can tell. You’re saving it up for someone
special.”

I stiffened and
glared at him. He had hit the mark so hard I felt bruised.

I hated being
treated like an object. It was degrading and insensitive, and, as far
as I was concerned, beauty was skin deep. I knew I had looks, but
that didn’t make me any better than anyone else. I’d even
used my looks to get my way a few times, but I also saw the way girls
looked at me, and how they were more interested in what was in my
jeans than what was in my heart. Automatically assuming I was a dumb
blond. “I don’t need a talk about the birds and bees from
you. And there’s nothing wrong with saving it for someone
special,” I growled.

Brax might still be
recovering from a gunshot wound, but he was still full of sass. He
smirked. “Don’t get your scuff up, huckleberry. There is
in your case, ‘cause I bet you’ve had plenty of offers
and plenty of temptation. But you held off. Didn’t you?”

I turned away,
embarrassed to be talking to the town’s notorious skirt chaser
about being an eighteen-year-old virgin, but Brax grabbed my
shoulder. “I won’t tell anyone, Deke. In fact, I admire
it.”

“What? You?”

“Yeah.”
It was his turn to look inside to the woman that he loved, and I got
it the minute he did that. “I wish I’d been the first.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah, I know
you do, ’cause you’re an egghead. I bet you know what to
do with your dick. You’ve probably had enough practice,”
he quipped, laughing.

I shoved him and
laughed. “Jerking off isn’t the same.”

“I’m
here to tell you, not even by a long shot, but…” He
grinned. “…practice makes perfect,” he mocked over
his shoulder as he sauntered away.

“Screw you,
Brax,” I had to laugh. There wasn’t anything else I could
do with an Outlaw.

“No, I’ll
leave that to you. Something tells me she’s got a head of
riotous, red curls and speaks with a very proper British accent.”

My heart jumped and
started to race. Damn Braxton and his knowing ways.

Yeah, New York City.
I always knew what I wanted, when I wanted it, and had no problem
going after it.

He was right. Minnie
Tattersall. She was what I had been saving up for, and it was time to
experience a woman who didn’t look
at
me, but
into
me, like I was the answer to all her breathless questions. A woman
who didn’t just see my looks, but also saw my heart.

I clasped my Outlaw
presents and went back inside just as it started to rain again.

I suspected it would
be my biggest challenge. Getting her to believe I saw her the very
same way.

#

Minnie

I couldn’t
breathe. Couldn’t inhale. Couldn’t exhale, couldn’t
bleeding draw a breath. I was on my knees, staring, just staring.

He was lying on his
side, completely naked, gazing into a whirling kaleidoscope of water.
His eyes when they fastened on mine weren’t a normal, everyday
blue. They were hot blue, sizzling, revealing to me everything he
was. His heart was in his eyes, and I trembled with the gift, the
stripped power of him.

His golden blond
hair spilled on the ground, and where it touched, flowers bloomed. It
was clear he was aroused. It wasn’t that I could see it, it was
more that I could feel it, the rawness of his desire. He was more
than naked, more than vulnerable, sexually desperate, wholly exposed,
and it made me ache.

I crawled because I
couldn’t stand, and when I got to the pool and gazed where my
reflection should be, I couldn’t see anything. I was just gone,
and when I looked at him again, he was no longer there either. I had
nothing but a deep, dark hole inside that swallowed me up.

I gasped awake and
sat up, breathing hard. Before I’d even caught my breath, I
rushed to the bathroom mirror in a blind panic because the dream had
been so vivid. But my face looked back at me. I dropped down on the
loo. This came from staring at way too many hot, handsome men for the
upcoming campaign for our men’s Bespoke label. I got up, washed
my face, and slipped on my robe. Then I went down the hall to my
office and turned on the lamp over the desk. Settling into my chair,
I picked up a bunch of photos, since I wouldn’t be able to go
back to sleep anyway. Maybe this batch would have the model I was
looking for.

The meaning of the
dream wasn’t lost on me, nor the identity of the man in my
dream. He had been showing up in my thoughts and dreams frequently
since I returned to the harsh reality of New York. Here I’d
believed I would get him out of my mind, eradicate him, but instead
he seemed to have taken up residence in my dreams…bloody hell,
in my waking thoughts, too.

It was clear and
simple. There was no way I was going after a guy who was five years
younger. I left that kind of thing to my mother, Angela Harding the
starlet who always had one young cutie pie on each arm. I certainly
wasn’t going to follow in her footsteps. He was a baby.
Eighteen, for God’s sake. Ha! For my sake. I stopped
babysitting a long time ago. I couldn’t help thinking he was
probably a conceited jerk anyway.

But it was clear my
subconscious mind had no intention of letting him go, even though the
reasonable, uptight part of me insisted.

When I met him, he
hadn’t acted like a boy. He hadn’t looked at me like a
boy, and he hadn’t talked to me like a boy. The things he had
said…damn, they still made my skin hot, and when a redhead
like me blushed, there was no hiding it on my pale skin. I was sure
he’d made dozen of conquests before he was even sixteen, and I
wasn’t going to be his first “mature” one.

I turned over one
picture after another, but always found something wrong with the next
handsome face that gazed up at me.

I dropped them in
exasperation. I had a busy day tomorrow, so I’d better try to
get back to sleep. Blimey, maybe this time I wouldn’t dream
about Decon West.

Yeah, right. There
wasn’t a chance in hell.

#

Minnie

“Verity, I’m
so glad you called,” I said. I was so looking forward to her
visit.

“What’s
wrong?” she asked. “You sound exhausted. I should take
off right now and help you.”

“No, you’ve
got your darling little Duel and your darling big Boone to worry
about right now. Everything is under control. I’m having a bit
of a problem sleeping. I usually do before Fashion Week. Once
everything comes together, I’ll be right as rain.”

“If you’re
sure. It’s been utter chaos here. Braxton, River Pearl, and her
brother Chase were almost killed last week.” She hurried on as
I gasped. “They are all okay. But it was scary to see him in
that hospital bed. Brax is so tough and contrary. I was very worried
about him.”

“What
happened?”

“River’s
cousin went too far to protect their family name. It’s really
complicated, but that’s the bottom line.”

“My God that
is awful.”

“I’ll
say. But, like I said, they are doing great now. Brax and River are
now together. Have you heard your show is to be her last? She’s
giving up modeling.”

“I had heard a
rumor, and I’ll miss having her model our clothes, but I’m
glad she’s following her heart.” I leaned back in my
chair. “It’s been a busy summer for you and your friends.
It seems you’ve all found love.”

“We have. Even
Boone’s momma found herself a new man, and it’s River’s
Uncle Winchester. I think we’re looking at another marriage
soon. I never thought I could be this happy. Are you sure…?”

“Yes,
worrywart, everything is brilliant. You’ll be here in a couple
of weeks. That’s soon enough. I’ve sent you the lineup
and some male models for you to approve. I’m not a hundred
percent happy, but I had to make a decision. Let me know what you
think.”

“I don’t
think Boone is going to want me staring at gorgeous men. That’s
what I think.”

“Just the
perks of the job.”

“I don’t
think he sees it that way,” she said the sarcasm clear across
all the miles.

“Tell him it’s
business.”

Verity chuckled.
“I’ll tell him it only makes me hot and bothered for
him.”

“There you go.
How’s everything else?”

“Aubree and
Booker moved to New Orleans last week.” Her voice was subdued.
“I’m going to miss her a lot. She started pre-med, and is
rarin’ to go. I’m happy for both of them. He gave her
the
ring, and it’s gorgeous. You will make it for their wedding,
right?”

“Of course, I
wouldn’t miss it.”

“Well, I’d
better go. It’s almost time for Boone to be here for lunch.”

“You
two
are
too
cute.”

“I know. We’re
sickening.”

“Ta, darling.”

“Bye. Oh,
wait. I forgot to tell you. Deke is on his way to New York. To
Columbia. I thought you’d be interested.”

“I’m
not.”

“Oh, Minnie,
you’re not your momma.”

“Damn right,
I’m not.”

“Well, it’s
a heads-up, then. He’ll be in the City.”

“Thanks for
letting me know. I’ll talk to you soon.” I had no
intention of ever seeing Deke West romantically. When he got here,
and if he attended Fashion Week activities, I would keep my head
level and on straight. I would not be ridiculed or thought
unprofessional or—God forbid!—pitied like Angela.

Deke

“Deke!”
a female voice called out. It was the third time it had happened
during the time it took for Travis Blackwood, Emmie Harp and me to
walk across Columbia’s Low Plaza to study on the steps.

I stopped and
turned, sighing. Travis rolled his eyes and Emmie smirked, saying
under her breath. “Geez, can’t we get through this
bitch-in-heat gauntlet in peace?”

I couldn’t
help it. I laughed and nudged Emmie. She was all about sarcasm, and I
enjoyed the bite of her humor.

And damned if that
book Booker gave me didn’t invade my thoughts. I read it again
as soon as I got settled in the dorm and after I’d planted my
seeds, which were already tiny green shoots. Booker wouldn’t
have given it to me if it didn’t have meaning, and here I was,
already benefitting from one of its lessons. Don’t judge.

I tried to live by
that. Especially where Emmie and Travis were concerned. Neither of
them were monsters, obviously, but they did have barriers. Travis’s
shyness and Emmie’s tough girl act were both about protection.

And, Tiffany Moore,
who was even now streaking across the quad toward me? Like a hideous
monster, beauty was just as intimidating. It might be the opposite of
ugly, but it kept people at bay just as easily as being ugly did. It
also could be a formidable weapon in the wrong hands. I’d
experienced it before and still did.

Some gorgeous girls
liked to jerk boys around, and I’d been on the receiving end
more than once. Tiffany was a perfect example of a guy-jerker. They
had what we wanted, and we wanted it a lot. Made us susceptible to
being jerked around and not in a good way. Our libido was a constant,
unrelenting pressure that dogged us from the moment we woke up with
heavy morning wood to the craving for a warm, soft body when we went
to bed.

Tiffany was rich,
spoiled, and striking. Except she knew it. It was an out-there
attractiveness enhanced by makeup and high-end hair products, not
like Emmie’s understated beauty.

Before I had decided
to save myself for someone special, I was just as horny, just as
girl-crazy as any teenaged boy. But even though my momma hadn’t
meant to, she showed me how important it was to wait for something
meaningful. Her relationship with my stepfather convinced me. Her
patience and understanding were also a big influence in my life.

“Hi, Tiffany,”
I said as the brunette sashayed up to me.

Tiffany had set her
sights on me the moment she walked into my English class, and just
would not believe I wasn’t interested. No matter what I said,
she persisted. And that no-judge rule? Until I got to know someone,
there would be no judging, but by now I was sure Tiffany was a
product of her upbringing. She’d learned her greedy,
all-about-me behavior because it was rewarded. I didn’t have to
indulge her, though.

“Are you
going to the game?” she said. The moment she got close enough,
she had her hands on me, smoothing her palms up my arms. This
familiar touching was starting to grate on my nerves.

I stepped back and
her eyes flashed, lips going pouty. “Oh, come on, babe. Say
you’ll go with me,” she whined.

“I’m
hanging out with my friends, here, and we’re going to study for
an upcoming test, so I’m going to skip the game, but you have
fun.”

Her eyes flicked to
and dismissed Emmie, but lingered over Travis. “How about the
party afterwards at Delta?”

“Nope, I don’t
usually attend frat parties.”

“Oh, Deke, why
not? It would be fun.”

“Listen,
Tiff,” Emmie said, her voice anything but friendly. “Dekey
doesn’t have time to screw you,” she said in her best
babycakes voice. “He’s too busy having his way with me. I
give him all the sex he needs.”

Beside me Travis
stiffened, his head whipping around to stare at Em.

Tiffany’s face
tightened and her eyes narrowed. “In your dreams, harpy.”

“Don’t
call her that,” Travis said, his voice low.

Tiffany studied
Travis and gave a little sigh, as if she thought his protective
stance about Emmie was somehow a come-on to her. She gave him an air
kiss, which only made him frown more. “I hope to see you there,
Deke. Bring Travis, too.” Tiffany said, giving me one more
confident look. “Bye.”