Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series (34 page)

Opal thumbed the tears from Sera’s cheeks. “I’m g-g-glad.” She wanted to say that she was sorry, too. For not being there when Sera had needed her. But if she said anything more she was afraid she’d burst into tears in front of—

Magda? Oh God. It
was
her voice Opal could hear. And Magda didn’t sound very happy at all. Opal waited for the ax to fall.

“You want my opinion?” Magda said, cutting through whatever Tem was attempting to say. “Here it is. The frames with Jordan solo are gorgeous. But these? These are crap, Tem. There’s nothing clever or classy about them. All I’m seeing is two hot guys pawing a hot girl.”

Tem’s response was too muted for Opal to make out but there was nothing muted about Magda’s reply. “Don’t try and blame the boys, Tem. They can’t turn a pig’s ear into a Coach bag. This was your brilliant freaking idea and it bombed. So suck it up and take some responsibility for the fact these group shots look like something a high school kid hides under his mattress and jerks off to when his parents aren’t around.”

Uh oh. Opal’s gaze sought Dominic and Jake. They were lounging on the floor, now looking relaxed and supremely unconcerned by the altercation. Dominic caught her gaze and winked.

Opal forced herself to take a deep breath. Okay, maybe Magda’s rant wasn’t as bad as it sounded. And then she heard Tem say, “You’re a bitch, Magda Bliss. And right now I hate you with a passion. But you’re right—as usual.” His crisp tones devolved into a self-pitying moan. “These frames are shit. God. I’m shit.”

Magda laughed her husky laugh. “Nonsense, darling. You and I both know you’re brilliant and talented and your photos are—” She snapped her fingers at Emilie. “What’s the word I’m looking for, Emilie?”

“Epic,” Emilie supplied.

“Your photos are epic,” Magda said. “Or they will be, once we get the underlying issue sorted. I think what we’re missing here is a connection.”

A distinct snort came from Emilie’s direction. “And a bra,” she said.

Magda flicked her gaze at Opal and gave a slow blink. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“My shirt.” Danbur crossed his arms across his chest. “I did not think it appropriate for the little one to see her mother half-naked.”

Magda tried her best to frown but the Botox won. “The ‘little one’?”

“Sera.”

Magda seemed to notice Sera for the first time. “Ah,” she said, giving great poker face. “Totally understandable.”

Her full attention switched back to Danbur. And lingered, Opal noticed, on his bare chest. Unreasonable jealously spiked her heart. She liked Magda. Respected her and trusted her—as much as she could trust anyone she’d recently met and had a professional relationship with. But she didn’t want Magda—or anyone—looking at Danbur like he was a tasty morsel to savor.

“And you would be?” Magda purred.

“Danbur. Sera’s caregiver.”

Magda’s gaze turned speculative. And then she pinned Opal with a penetrating look that had Opal quailing on the inside because it seemed to comprehend far too much.

“I see,” Magda said before she turned back to Danbur. Her head tilted to one side and then the other, and Opal swore she was mentally gauging his height, weight and other physical attributes. And then she strode toward him, one hand outstretched. “Magda Bliss. Nice to meet you, Danbur.”

To Opal’s relief, Danbur shook Magda’s hand briefly, and seemed unmoved by her blatant regard.

“Can you stay a little while?” Magda asked him.

“That depends solely on Sera.” Almost as an afterthought he added, “And Opal, of course.”

“Sera?” Magda beckoned her forward. “It’s your birthday on Thursday, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Magda smiled. And it was the smile of someone who was about to play a trump card. “Well, then, I have a special birthday gift for you. How would you like the lady who did your Mom’s hair and makeup to do your hair, too? And I seem to remember your favorite color is pink. We’re bound to have some pink accessories out back. You can choose one or two as your birthday gift from me.”

Opal glanced down in time to see Sera’s face light up as she squeaked, “Really?”

Oh Magda was good. Really good.

Magda jerked her chin at Emilie, who stepped forward and without missing a beat said, “Really. I think there might even be a pretty little pink handbag. Shall we go see, Sera? And do you think you’d like your hair up or down? We can even straighten it if you like.”

Sera’s eyes rounded with awe. “You can straighten my hair?”

“Of course.”

Sera tugged on Opal’s hand. “Can I get my hair straightened, Mommy? Pleeeeease?”

“Sure.” Doubtless they’d do a far better job of it than Opal had managed with the cheap flat iron she’d bought. After an hour of wrestling with Sera’s thick wavy hair she’d had to give up.

She watched her daughter take Emilie’s hand and vanish into the makeup room with Emilie and one of the stylists. One down, one to go. She had a sneaking suspicion Magda’s next move was going to be— What was the word Emilie had used? Epic.

“Danbur,” Magda said. “You’ve interrupted the shoot and put us behind schedule. This, as you can imagine, is a problem for me.” He opened his mouth but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I know how you can make it up to me. All I need is an hour of your time. Deal?”

“That depends,” he hedged.

Smart man.

“Oh, it’s nothing too onerous, I promise.” Magda smiled her shark’s smile and waved an airy hand. “A few photos. And your permission to use them for my campaign if they’re up to scratch. I’ll pay you, of course.”

Danbur eyed her like she’d turned into something venomous. He opened his mouth but she cut him off again. “All you have to do is be yourself and let Tem do all the work. Deal?”

He mulled this for all of ten seconds before honor won out. “I acknowledge my debt to you,” he said. “Tell me what I must do to satisfy you.”

A smile played around Magda’s lips. It was a speculative smile, like she might be contemplating just how thoroughly Danbur could satisfy her.

As if sensing Opal’s growing desire to smack that smile from her face, Magda dialed it down a few notches. “Excellent.” She snapped her fingers at the head stylist. “Find Danbur a pair of leather pants. No shirt. Just the pants. And bare feet. No need to style the hair—it’s perfect as is.” She made shooing motions at Danbur. “Off you go,” she told him. “This nice lady will take care of you.”

Opal didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know what Magda had planned. And, seeing the bewildered expression on Danbur’s face as he fell into line behind the stylist, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Not to mention she felt weak-kneed and fuzzy-brained at the mere thought of Danbur standing in for Jake and Dominic… and hadn’t the foggiest clue how she would disguise her true feelings for him.

She pressed the back of her wrist against her forehead. Her skin felt hot, feverish. Her heart was doing the wild thing in her chest. Even her veins buzzed with anticipation. God help her. Keeping it “professional” for the next hour or so was going to be the biggest challenge of her newly launched modeling career.

~~~

Suspecting she was superfluous—for the moment at least—Opal grabbed the opportunity to lean away from Danbur and put some physical distance between them. He got the message, and she tried to ignore the way her body quivered as his hands left her shoulders and stroked down her arms before he stepped back.

She marched stiffly to the side of the studio, where she leaned her back against the wall and slid down until her butt hit the floor. Even five minutes respite was welcome. It would give her time to calm her hormones. And administer a stern mental lecture about getting carried away by the moment, reading more into each passing minute than she should.

This was modeling. It was all about faking it—the two of them gazing deep into each other’s eyes and pretending there was desire and need and yearning where there was none. Nothing Danbur had conveyed with his eyes and his expressions and his touch had been real.

Yeah. Right. And you just keep telling yourself that, Opal. Because the truth was that Danbur wasn’t a professional model. He didn’t know how to fake it. He’d been himself, exactly as Magda had told him. And Opal, unable to deny the attraction that sizzled between them, had responded in kind. She’d armored herself with pretense but within minutes it had melted beneath the raw heat of Danbur’s honesty. And for the past half hour, she’d felt naked and exposed and more vulnerable than she’d ever felt.

Now she was exhausted. She wanted to cry. She wanted this day to be over.

“Got it.” Tem’s tone reeked of glee. Opal jerked her head up in time to see him jab at the TV-sized viewing screen hooked up to his digital camera. “That’s the money shot, right there, Magda. It’s everything you wanted. Showcases the jeans. Strong, sexy, provocative—”

“But not overtly so.” Magda bent to peer more closely at the screen. “The way he’s looking at her, touching her…. It’s… it’s….”

“Tender,” Tem said. “But there’s desire, too. Is it hot in here or is it just me? I think I need a fan.”

Oh God. This was more than humiliating. This was like having photos of an intimate, private moment between herself and a lover released into the public domain for everyone to critique. It felt like the worst kind of invasion of her privacy.

“Yes,” Magda said. “It’s super-hot. But it’s subtle—which is key, don’t you think?”

Tem loosed a loud snort. “Unless you’re pulling a he-who-shall-not-be-named-in-my presence style of campaign.”

Magda matched Tem’s snort and raised it. “If I was launching a range of body oil, perhaps.”

“Let’s be blunt.
We
don’t want everyone so busy ogling the oiled up, half-naked models they don’t notice the clothes.” Tem raked his hands through his carefully styled hair and it was a mark of his excitement, Opal thought, that he didn’t immediately pat the locks he’d disarrayed back into place.

“Luke.” Tem beckoned his hovering assistant closer. “Thoughts? Too far? Not far enough?”

The slight man pushed his rimless glasses up his nose and stared intently at the screen. “Gorg,” he pronounced.

Tem rolled his eyes. “Of course Luke knows he has to say that or I’ll make him sleep in the spare room.”

Luke grinned, blew Tem a kiss, and retreated to fuss with the camera equipment.

Magda snapped her fingers at Jake and Dominic, who, after giving Danbur some quick pointers about posing, had found a couple of folding chairs and settled back to watch the fun. They were getting paid regardless of whether they were posing or sitting out watching. “Take a look, boys,” Magda instructed. “Tell me what you think. Honest opinions only.”

The two men bounced from their chairs and ventured over to give their opinion.

Dominic said nothing but his actions spoke louder than words as he turned to Tem, pressed his palms together, and bowed his head over his hands.

Subtlety, however, wasn’t Jake’s middle name. “Jesus,” he said. “Looks like he wants to peel those jeans down her hips and—”

“Do the kinds of things we don’t talk about in front of Jordan’s little girl.” Dominic elbowed him in the ribs.

Heat flushed Opal’s cheeks. Tem’s gaze darted toward her, and then flicked to Sera, who’d just entered the studio with Emilie. He hesitated and then grinned. “Exactly the look I was going for.”

“Mommy!” Sera’s smile was huge with delight. “Look at my hair! It’s not frizzy any more! It’s all shiny!”

Opal squinted at her daughter. And then, absurdly grateful that Sera was still in her original pink pants and t-shirt, and hadn’t been “made over” like some living doll, relaxed and smiled back. “Y-Y-You look b-b-beautiful, b-b-baby. A-A-And so d-d-does your h-h-hair.”

“I know! And Emilie gave me a pink bag, too. To keep! It’s got beads and glitter and fringe! See?” She waved the little evening bag at Opal, and then remembered her manners enough to thank Magda for the early birthday gift.

Magda murmured something in a distracted fashion, her mind obviously on other things. Relief swamped Opal. She didn’t want to dampen Sera’s happiness but she had to make her daughter understand that this was Mommy’s workplace and Sera shouldn’t be here. Any time now Magda’s patience could snap. She beckoned Sera and pushed herself wearily from the floor.

And then Danbur was beside her, cupping a hand beneath her elbow and helping her to her feet, and oh, it was so very tempting to lean on him, give in to her weariness and close her eyes and let him take care of her. Instead, she moved away and braced herself for one of Sera’s enthusiastic hugs as her daughter hurtled toward them.

Danbur lunged and scooped Sera into his arms before she could reach Opal. Sera threw her arms about his neck, giggling with delight as he spun around in a circle. When he stilled and she’d caught her breath she said, “Look at my hair, Dan. Isn’t it soft ’n shiny? Emilie’s friend Michelle did it for me with special straightener thingies! And I’ve got lip-gloss, too. See?” She pursed her lips and gave him a sticky kiss on the cheek. “And Michelle let me keep it. It’s in my bag!”

“You look beautiful, little chick,” Danbur told her. “But to me you have always been beautiful.”

“You look beautiful, too, Dan,” Sera said. “Magda could use you as a model, too. And you could work with Mommy. That’d be cool! Wouldn’t it, Mommy?”

Opal managed a faint smile. And then she launched into the little speech she’d rehearsed for Sera, and finished with a hug and the suggestion that Danbur confirm it was all right to take Sera home now. She kissed Sera goodbye, and waited, heart in her mouth, until she saw Magda nod and indicate Danbur and Sera should leave the studio with Emilie.

She watched Danbur walk out with her daughter, and it was as though all the light and warmth and life had been sucked from the studio. She shivered, feeling alone and adrift and empty.

The stylist hurried over with a robe for Opal to throw on over the bustier she wore with the jeans for these last set of photos. “You okay, Jordan? Can I get you a drink or anything?”

Opal shook her head. “I’m f-f-fine.”

“Your daughter is adorable, by the way,” the stylist said.