Beauty Shot (Hope Parish Novels Book 5) (4 page)

And besides, it just
so happened the clothes would fit. Perhaps the goddess of opportunity
had thrown a tidbit my way.

He applied the
foundation and then outlined my eyes.

“You’re
set, handsome.”

I shucked my jeans
and grabbed up the…bathing suit?…a black mesh piece of
barely-there spandex. I’d worn jock straps that had more
material.

Dante leaned in and
met my eyes in the mirror. “I can already tell you’re
straight, but honey, oh my, if you weren’t…” He
grinned and snapped the spandex and said, “Knock ’em
dead, sweet cheeks. I’m out. Ta.”

I had to laugh. The
shower groping aside, this was quite a strange and wondrous land, and
maybe I should loosen up a bit. I turned as the little Asian warrior
motioned to me. Yep, she was wearing a headset. I could hear music
begin to roll. Looked like I was getting this party started. That’s
when I saw her.

Minnie.

Geezus.

This must be what it
felt like to have a ton of bricks dropped on you. I gazed after her
while she crossed the room and stopped at the entrance to the runway.
She was sipping on one of those small bottles of champagne. Her lips,
pursed and painted a bronzed color, made me want to press my mouth
against hers and get that lipstick on me. She’d twisted her
hair up into a perfectly disheveled pile of wild curls on top of her
head, leaving her lovely throat and nape bare. For some reason the
sight of her bare neck turned me on.

She put the meaning
in sleek and sophisticated in a little polka-dot dress with a tight
bodice and full, short flirty skirt. Instead of black, it was a deep
chocolate brown, and the dots were tan. The neckline was low, curving
around and showing off the tops of her white, creamy breasts with a
hint of cleavage. My whole body charged up as if there was an
electrical current straight from her to me.

She stood on sexy,
three-inch chocolate heels that laced up her ankles. With confidence,
a study in calm, cool, and collected in a sea of pandemonium and
chaos, like an air traffic controller, she conversed with the
Yuminator, who glanced at me again, impatiently.

I’d better
stop circling the landing strip…er, runway and get my skimpily
clad ass over there.

Minnie turned to see
who Yumi was pointing to and gesturing at, and our eyes locked.

Her lips parted and
her eyes widened, then softened as her gaze roamed over me from the
top of my head right down to my bare feet.

I couldn’t
help remembering how I’d cornered her at Outlaws just before
she returned to New York. She’d answered my questions
sarcastically, trying like hell to dismiss me, dismiss this current
between us. But her shallow breaths, her widening pupils, and her
body language all told me she was interested.

I was quite aware
there was no room in this suit for a hard-on, so I desperately
thought about ice, cold, baseball statistics, and Tiffany.

That helped.

Marginally.

I moved because Yumi
was starting to look more frantic than aggravated. We were keeping
people waiting. I threaded my way through the press of bodies and
paused right next to Minnie. She followed me with her eyes, then
Verity came up to her, took one look at me, and her mouth fell open.

As soon as I hit the
opening to the runway, the lights blinded me, spinning around,
washing the room in a multi-hued glow. Flashes burst and sparkled,
and I took a big breath. My eyes forward, I stepped out into Minnie’s
glitzy and glamourous world.

#

Minnie

I was frozen in the
shadows of the opening to the runway, my gaze riveted on Decon West
walking down the runway like he owned it. For an eighteen-year-old,
he was quite confident, which only made him sexier.

My chest was tight;
I could hardly catch my breath.

Bleeding hell
.
My heart was pounding.

That was Deke, and
every moment I experienced with him tightened his sensual vise around
me. He looked amazing, and I’d hand only dreamed he was hiding
such broad shoulders, thick, muscled back, molded chest, lean waist,
and heavy, muscled thighs and calves beneath his clothes. Verity’s
jock-inspired swim brief accentuated all his attributes below that
rippled abdomen. He looked at ease on the runway, as if he’d
been doing this his whole life, as if he was a natural.

It wasn’t his
body or his face that drew me—no, those were window dressing.
It was the way he looked at me, somewhere between fierce and
committed. It made my stomach jump and my heart squeeze. I didn’t
want to explore all that stuff behind his eyes.

Missy Spokes,
photographer for
Style
& Art
gave me a look that said,
where
have you been hiding
him,
you bad, bad girl?

I was mortified that
she might print that I was interested in such a young man. Even
though, against my will, I was. I gave her a blank look and she went
back to her camera. Six weeks wasn’t enough time to put up a
defense against him. My pulse raced with an awful mixture of shock,
wariness, and a truly horrible excitement at just seeing him again.

I must be crazy.

He was my downfall.
Just starting out with his life. He was a bleeding freshman in
college. Yeah, that would look good in the society pages.

I looked at Verity,
and there was no need to utter a word.

“I had nothing
to do with this,” she said, her shock just as acute. “But,
geez, you’ve got to admit he looks awesome.”

He got to the end of
the runway, and I looked up at the screen to see a panoramic view of
Deke West. He gave the crowd a self-possessed, intense gaze, the
black accenting liner making the ocean blue of his eyes pop. His
loose golden hair brushed his shoulders in thick waves. There wasn’t
a woman out there who wouldn’t want that swimsuit for her
husband or boyfriend or, if unattached, wouldn’t want to take
it off Deke himself. I anticipated a lot of orders.

With an almost
imperceptible lift of the corner of his mouth, as if this was all so
amusing, he spun and made his way back down the runway.

Instead of his gaze
being straight ahead, it was focused on me, and I felt my insides
melt.
Melt.
Everything
was melting.

I had to make way
for the next model, who was staring at both Verity and me. The
designers didn’t usually stand at the door looking at the
models. That’s what the monitors were for. I retreated just as
Deke came through the opening.

“I can
explain,” he said to Verity when she grabbed his arm. His gaze
swung to me and that pounding started all over again. “Hi,
shug.”

The way he said,
“shug” short for sugar chipped at my resolution not to
fall into his delicious trap.

“Explain,
Deke,” Verity demanded.

“I came
backstage to find you and wish you good luck, but that Yuminator
woman grabbed me and thought I was a model. When I realized you had a
no-show, I decided to fill in.”

“Yuminator?”
I snorted, and Yumi’s wide-eyed, surprised look narrowed into a
quelling glare.

“That’s
just like you, Deke. Thank you.”

“Do you want
me to continue?”

“Yes,”
Verity said.

“No,” I
said.

“Yes,”
Yumi said, giving me a gladiator look. She ran all my shows, and she
was the best in the business. I wasn’t about to cheese her off.
So I didn’t contradict her, even though I wanted to.

Deke stepped closer
to me. “She’s wearing a headset, so your hands are tied,”
he said. He leaned in, close to my ear, the heat of his breath
feathering down my neck and tightening my nipples. He smelled like
heaven, his scent making my knees weak. “You can boss me around
later.”

Yumi’s eyes
narrowed even as she shooed the next model onto the runway. The woman
didn’t even have to look at the monitors to know that the
previous model was about halfway down.

“If you’re
going to stay,” Yumi said, grabbing his wrist and propelling
him toward the racks, “get back to work.”

“Sure,”
he grinned, and I saw her—the mighty, unflappable Yumi—lose
her focus for just a moment. Deke’s smile was…dreamy.
“Let’s see. What comes after number 1?” He
pretended to think hard as he walked backwards. Then he brightened
and snapped his fingers. “Right! Number 2.” He turned and
easily made his way through the crowd.

The show got more
hectic, and the pace increased, but in spite of it all, I didn’t
miss watching Deke walk. Close to the end of the show, several
photographers were crowding backstage, asking me about him. I tried
to fend them off, but it took Yumi’s formidable presence—ha,
the Yuminator, which still made me laugh—to get them out of our
hair.

I was frazzled by
then. Verity and I had been up since five getting organized and
overseeing everything. I wanted to get out of my heels and this dress
and into more comfortable clothes, get a cup of tea, and chill for a
bit.

But that wasn’t
going to happen for quite a while. I had another show, for our female
wear, our Eterne and Pizazz labels, to oversee. Then there was the
party—that was a must—at my apartment tonight.

As the first show
came to a close, I walked out with Verity, and we did our bow amidst
clapping and cheering. As soon as we exited, I saw a flood of people
racing toward the back.

They mobbed Deke.
Cameras in his face, flashes going off, such a crowd of people, all
screaming questions at him. Yumi was trying to get through the crowd,
then called some big chaps to try to usher the bulk of the crowd away
from Deke. I couldn’t see Verity, but before I knew it, I heard
Braxton’s voice…that guy knew how to clear a room. Then
I saw them, Brax and Boone. They were wading through the bodies,
clearing a path, and shooing people out.

I pushed and shoved
my way to Deke, and saw he hadn’t even had a chance to get
dressed. I snatched up his clothes and boots. Grabbing his arm, I
pulled him away from the chaos and into a back room that had served
as our makeshift office. I closed the door.

He ran his fingers
through his hair, and leaned against the door, his shoulders almost
touching either side of the frame. Damn he was big for a teenager…a
young man. I couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy his toned torso,
etched with heavy muscle. He folded his arms over his wide chest,
flexing his biceps, and my mouth went dry. He leaned his head back,
his eyelids going half-mast as he said, “I swear, the way folks
act aroun’ here, you’d think they’s never seed a
half-nekkid man before.”

Not one like him.

“Damn, I’m
just some good ol’ boy from Louisiana. Just a few weeks ago, I
was a-plantin’ and sweatin’ in the sun.”

“You have no
idea,” I said. “Do you?”

“Idea about
what?”

I shook my head.
People were crazy about him, but it wasn’t just about his
looks. Deke had a quality about him, an intensity and confidence that
radiated from his six-four frame and knee-melting turquoise eyes.

Oh, my damned,
traitorous hormones. How was I going to have a conversation with him
with only that joke of a swimsuit barely covering his attributes? I
went for acerbic because it helped to keep all my ridiculous woman
bits under control. “You have no one to blame but yourself,”
I said. “You didn’t have to be so nice and fill in.”

“Then you’d
be short a model, Minnie. I didn’t mind.”

“Well, it
looks like you are now the
IT
guy.”

“What the hell
is that?”

“Everyone
wants to know who you are. Which makes it all the more difficult for
me.”

“For you?”

“You know why.
Don’t act innocent.”

I paced away, the
gravity of the situation hitting me. If Deke was in the limelight and
I succumbed to his…I looked over at him…charms, it
would be way too public. This was the one thing I had to avoid at all
costs. I would not become the butt of jokes about how Angela
Harding’s daughter was following in her mother’s
footsteps. I wouldn’t drag T&O and Verity through that kind
of mud. Well, it was clear. I couldn’t succumb to his charms or
any other part of him.

“According to
you, I am a baby, so that makes me innocent.”

I snorted, and he
grinned, pushing away from the door.

“There’s
an exit to the street through here. Here are your clothes. Please get
dressed.”

I held them out in
front of me like a shield, but he just took them out of my hands,
dropped them on the floor and kept coming. “I called you.
Several times. Your receptionist said she’d give you the
messages. So either she lied to me or you got the messages and didn’t
return my calls.”

“Deke…”

“You look
good, Minnie. All fancy and such. I like it.”

“Deke…please.”

He was in my space,
exactly where I’d wanted him from the moment I laid eyes on him
in Suttontowne.

“Please what?”
he said.

I stared up at him,
so tantalizingly close.
Touch
me, hold me, talk to me in that heavenly voice.

“You have to
tell me, Minnie, because I just experienced some unwanted advances. I
tried to be polite and not hurt her feelings, but finally I had to
lay it out for her so she understood. Don’t be nice. I can
handle rejection, but what I can’t handle is you afraid of
taking the next steps because of some arbitrary numbers like the
difference in our ages. I know it’s not tactful to push, but I
also know there’s something between us, and I want it. But if
you tell me right now to back off and leave you alone, that you’re
not interested in me in the slightest, I will.”

Damn him for being
so honest. It was easier to not return his calls and avoid him. But
there was no use denying the intense attraction I felt for him. He
was a good guy in a bad boy package, an intoxicating mix. And doubly
dangerous. To me, and to my reputation.