Authors: Ciana Stone
Hoots and several “Get a room” comments reminded her they had an audience. She pulled back and looked at the people assembled. Her family.
She smiled through tears. The impossible had happened. What she’d longed for and wished for her entire life was hers. She had love. She had family.
She was home.
Ciana Stone
Colton’s Memory
When Colton Marsh gets a call about a classic car that’s broken down near the belly dancing school run by his best friend’s mother, he figures he’ll get the car up and running, collect his pay and then head on back to his ranch to start mowing the southern pasture.
He thought wrong. Memory Wells lights a fire of lust inside him stronger than anything he’s ever experienced, and she makes it quite clear that she’s as hot for him as he is for her. So when her car has to be towed to his shop for repairs and she accepts his offer for a ride back to the bed and breakfast, Colton figures he just might get lucky.
Lucky doesn’t even touch what’s in store for Colton.
Chapter One
Memory stood beside her partner, Romeo, with her laptop remote in her hand. Both of them were focused on the images that flashed on the big LED screen on the wall of Memory’s office. The photos were from a shoot they’d completed in the studio earlier in the day.
Her office door opened and Romeo nudged her with his elbow. She looked in the direction of the door. One of the models she’d shot earlier was headed her way, his hair artfully mussed, his shirt unbuttoned and displaying a lot of chest and abdomen. His pants were unbuttoned and slinking low.
Looking like something out of a magazine,
Memory thought.
Every woman’s fantasy
.
Hormones flared, making her pulse kick up a notch and she mentally cursed. She’d sworn off models but damn if she could get her hormones to agree. The one walking in her direction had her imagining sweat-tangled sheets and quick but satisfying sexual release.
“Just wanted to say thanks,” the model said as he stopped in front of the table. “I know you’ll make me look fabulous.”
“Do my best,” she replied, trying to squelch the rush of hormones. “Thanks for being so easy to work with.”
“I was thinking maybe we could have dinner. If you don’t have plans, that is. I know this great B&B not too far that has the best crab cakes you’ve ever tasted in your life.”
Memory smiled at the idea. She knew as well as he that if she accepted they’d get to the crab cakes after he’d given his best shot at giving her the most mind-blowing sex she’d ever experienced and hopefully securing her backing to propel him from mid-list model to one of the hottest talents in the industry. It was no secret that it had happened before. Not something she was extraordinarily proud of, but a fact, nonetheless.
That thought was enough to quiet her raging hormones and reaffirm her resolve to stay away from sexual liaisons with models.
“Thanks, but no,” she said. “Gotta go through all these shots and get them sent to the client.”
“Do it later,” he suggested with a sexy smile that threatened her resolve.
She reconsidered it for a moment. It had been quite a while since she’d felt that wonderful release that comes with orgasm that wasn’t masturbation induced. It would be nice to indulge just once, release all the pent-up tension and frustration.
And start another round of empty encounters that will end up having you nicknamed a model whore,
her conscience reminded her.
“No can do.”
“I promise to show you a
real
good time.” Memory cut her eyes up at him and was struck by how he suddenly seemed far less attractive. His hair didn’t look near as shiny and luxurious as it had a few minutes ago, and there was an almost bruised appearance on the skin around his eyes that the make-up had almost hidden. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed it earlier. Or had she? Now that she thought about it, hadn’t she had that thought at the onset of the shoot?
Shit! Had she done a mind paste? Her eyes cut to the image displayed on the big screen. Was it the result of a legitimate shot or had she projected what she wanted to see?
“Come on, baby.” The sexy croon pulled her attention back to his real intention. It earned him a sharp look from Mem and an even sharper retort.
“I said no. Now if you’ll excuse me?” With that she turned her back on him.
“Fuck you!” he snapped. “I was trying to do you a favor, bitch.”
“Hey!” Romeo barked as the model stalked away.
“Let it go.” Memory put her hand on Romeo’s arm. “Really. It’s not important. He just needed to have the last word.”
“Fuck having the last word! Just who the hell does he think he is, talking to you like that?”
“Rom, let it go,” she said with a sigh. “It’s my own fault. I should’ve never slept with one model, let alone a string of them. Now the ambitious pretty boys think if they grant me a night with them I’ll turn them into stars.”
“We all make mistakes,” Rom said.
Memory snorted. “Yeah, well I’ve made one too many in that department.”
“You’re just sexually frustrated is all,” he said and followed it with a sigh. “Honey, sometimes I really wish I was straight because you seriously need to have your world rocked.”
Memory snorted. “That’s the last thing I need, thank you.”
“Scoff if you want, but you and I both know that it’s been… good god, since Randy and that was—”
“Let’s not go there, okay?”
Randy George was the most recent mistake in her life she’d like to forget. When she’d met him he was a mid-list model, approaching forty and looking at the end of his career. She was one of the top photographers in the world, enjoying remarkable success in her professional life.
Her personal life was the polar opposite. In the early years of her career, she’d been mesmerized by the gorgeous men she shot, and had found herself having a string of short-lived affairs. When she finally realized that the men she ended up with were far more interested in what she could do for their careers than in her, she swore off men entirely. Until Randy.
She was certain Randy was different. He was funny and sweet, and didn’t seem to have much of an ego. Two shoots with Memory and Randy’s flagging career took off like a rocket. He became the poster boy for the gorgeous man approaching middle age and was in demand internationally. For six months they were inseparable. The drop-dead-beautiful male model and the much-sought-after photographer. She thought it was love. Then things started to change. Randy became increasingly self-absorbed, reminding her daily how lucky she was to be with one of the sexiest men in the world.
She’d put up with his burgeoning ego, until she returned home early from an out-of-town shoot and found him in bed with a beautiful female model. That’s when reality sank in. He was no different than any of the others. He’d just played her. Memory booted him out of her house that very night and swore off men altogether.
Romeo came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to make you sad. I just don’t like seeing you alone, Mem.”
“It’s okay,” she said and leaned back against him. “And if you were straight, I’d tie you up and hide you away all for myself. There aren’t men out there like you, Rom—smart, funny…honest. No offense, but in general men are a bunch of narcissistic pricks with the emotional depth of turnips. They’re interested in two things—a hot fuck or someone who can pave their way to the top. I’m not hot and I’m tired of paving.”
Romeo turned her around and reached up to loosen the plastic clip she always used to pin her hair up, letting her long dark hair spill free.
“You listen to me, girl.” He spoke in a scolding tone. “You are hot. You just hide it. Like this granny clip and those glasses. If you’re not hiding your face behind a camera you’ve got it so covered with…accessories that no one can even see what you look like. And your clothes—”
Memory couldn’t help but laugh. She and Romeo had played this scenario before. He detested the way she dressed and she refused to update her wardrobe just to try and attract a man. Nothing she owned was form fitting, from her baggy jeans to her habit of wearing men’s dress shirts over her t-shirts.
“Tell you what,” she said. “If I meet a man who’s genuine, I’ll buy a bikini and parade down main street USA while you take pictures.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears.”
“Let’s get out of here,” she suggested. “How about I buy you a drink?”
“Sounds like a plan to—”
They both looked around as the door to her office banged open. Randy George walked in, followed closely by Memory’s secretary, Janet.
“I’m sorry,” Janet blurted. “I told him you were busy but he—”
“It’s okay,” Memory interrupted. She waited until Janet left before she addressed Randy.
“What do you want?”
“Buzz me when you’re done here,” Romeo said and made a swift exit.
Randy waited until the door was closed. “Look at this shit!” He tossed a stack of glossy 8 x 10 color photos down on her desk.
Memory leafed through the stack. “Not bad. Could have used more fill here but still not too bad. Not crazy about the Dutch angle in this—”
“I’m not talking about technical mumbo jumbo! Look what that fuck did to me! I look like I’m…forty!”
She cut her eyes up at him with a smile. “Well, technically you’re over forty,”
“Fuck you!” He shouted and threw himself into one of the chairs in front of her desk. “I’m ruined!”
Memory took a seat behind the desk, giving the photos another look. “It’s not that bad, Randy. A little airbrushing around the eyes and maybe on the neck—”
“I don’t want goddamn airbrushing! Mem, you know as well as I that once you have to start getting touchups, you’re done.”
She sat back and regarded him with knitted brows. “And so you’re here to—what? I’m not a cosmetic surgeon, Randy. And I’m not god. We all age. No way to stop that except the alternative.”
A grin of mischief came on her face. “Of course, if you’re here to ask me to shoot you and put you out of your misery we might be able to work something out.”
“Yes!” He blurted while she was still talking.
“What?”
“I want you to shoot me. Mem, you know you have the ‘magic eye’. Everyone knows it. You see what no one else does. You shoot someone and they look like a million bucks. I need you to do this shoot again.”
“It’s not my job,” she pointed out. “Not my client.”
“I don’t care! Those photos can’t see daylight or I’m finished. You have to do it, Mem. For us.”
“Us? There is no us. Hasn’t been since the moment I found you and that…that poster child for breast implants in my bed.”
Randy bounded to his feet and circled the desk to throw himself down on one knee beside her chair. “I was wrong, Mem. I admit it. I was a fool. Nothing’s been right since you kicked me out. I want you back. I want us back.”
She rolled her chair back away from him. “Get up,” she said as she stood. “And get out.”
Randy climbed to his feet and reached out to take her arm and pull her to him. “Come on, baby. It’ll be like old times. Me and you, conquering the world. Remember how great we were together? It can be that way again. Only better.”
Memory twisted out of his grasp. “Get out, Randy. Now.”
“Come on, babe. Where else are you gonna get this kind of offer? I’m still the hottest thing going and you know it. Millions of women would kill to be in your shoes right now. And let’s face it, you don’t exactly have them lined up to get a piece of you.”
“Get out!” She she pointed toward the door.
“Memory—”
“Out!” She screamed, picked up a crystal paperweight on the desk and threw it at him.
The crash of shattering glass when the paperweight slammed into the window brought a stampede of people to her office.
“Mem?” Romeo fought his way to the forefront of people rushing in. He hurried over to stand protectively in front of Memory.
“Leave,” he ordered Randy.
“Fuck you, fag!” Randy yelled. A split second later he lurched to one side as a cell phone connected with the side of his head.
Memory had already hurled another object, this time a coffee mug. She was about to hurl a small metal-framed photo when Romeo grabbed her. “Mem, no!”
By then her office was complete chaos. Randy was screaming and going on about all he’d done was try to make up with her and she’d attacked him. People were shouting for someone to call the police while several of the women were trying to convince Randy to let them check his head to make sure he wasn’t bleeding.
Amid all that, Memory pulled away from Romeo, snatched up her shoulder bag and ran, forcing her way through the crowd. He caught up with her at the front door.
“I’m done,” she announced. “It’s yours, Rom.”
“Hey, hold on!” He grabbed her arm and was pulled along behind her as she headed out the door. “Mem, stop!”
She stopped abruptly and he turned her to face him. “Honey, I know you’re mad, but you can’t run. You can’t give him the power to make you do that. Please, let’s just go into my office and talk. Please.”
She shook her head. “It isn’t just him, Rom. It’s everything. I’m not happy and unless I do something to change it, this is all life’s ever going to be.”
“Memory! You’re one of the most successful photographers in the world. That isn’t something that’s just handed out arbitrarily. You have something no one else does, and—”
“And what’s it gotten me?” she interrupted. “Look at me, Rom. I’m pushing forty and I’m alone. I go back in there and the next thing I know I’m fifty and still in the same place. “
“Running away won’t change who you are, Mem.”
“Maybe not. But I can’t stay here, Rom. I have to go.” Not until she’d said the words did she realize how true they were. She wasn’t happy and hadn’t been for a long time. And unless she did something to change her life, she was going to waste what time she had left being miserable.
“Where will you go?” Rom asked.