Summer Sinclair stood waist-deep in the warm Caribbean waters, hands placed provocatively on her hips, and pouted. Her skin glistened with grains of pinky-white sand, the sun had toasted her a pale bronze, while hair and make-up artists hovered in the background to ensure that Summer stayed the right side of casually sea-drenched.
As Dan Stevens snapped away with his Nikon camera, Summer wondered whether she was doing a good enough job. This was by far the sexiest shoot she had ever done, and for the first hour she had felt completely self-conscious; she had spent hours preparing for the shoot. No other model she knew did homework, but Summer had pored over
Sports Illustrated
, old Pirelli calendars,
Vogue
and
Harper’s Bazaar
editorials, photography books from David Bailey and Helmut Newton, scrutinizing poses of the great, sexy models past and present: Gisele, Cindy Crawford, Jerry Hall; angle of head, the facial expressions, the hair and make-up. She had spent her entire life in the shadow of her gorgeous mother but today, standing in the bright Anguillan sunlight, she felt like her own woman.
‘Okay. Let’s take a break,’ shouted Dan Stevens, looking
up from his camera. ‘Summer, put something else on and we can try another setup.’
Karin looked at her watch and stalked over the sand to Dan. ‘Well I’m due back at the hotel. Don’t start before I’ve returned.’
‘The light is going to start going soon, Karin,’ complained Dan, looking irritated. ‘We have to get a move on.’
‘I’ll be twenty minutes,’ she mouthed, walking to the huge white hotel in the distance.
Mike, the genial photographer’s assistant, handed Summer a towelling robe and she looked over at Dan anxiously.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘You look gorgeous, honey.’
‘Have you got the shot?’
He shrugged and then laughed.
‘That’s a no,’ Summer smiled, feeling a little deflated. She bet Molly would have captured the magical image that would be used in the campaign after seven hours of shooting. She always used to boast that when she worked with photographers like Bailey, they’d get the picture in the first dozen shots.
‘You’re doing great,’ said Dan kindly. ‘Go and get changed and when we start again we’re going to nail it, okay?’
She walked over the hot sand to the trailer that had been set up at the edge of the beach. Tessa Samuel, the stylist, was sitting on the steps sipping an iced tea and listening to her iPod. She was a leggy brunette, with the high cheekbones and broad mouth of a former model, and wearing a white bikini top and a pair of denim shorts cut high up her legs.
‘Dan wants me in something else. What do you suggest?’ asked Summer.
Tessa walked into the trailer and began flicking through the racks of swimsuits, bikinis and kaftans. ‘What does Kaiser want you to wear?’ she said sulkily.
‘Kaiser?’
‘Karin,’ smiled Tessa. ‘She told me this morning in no uncertain terms that
she
was creative director of the shoot and would be choosing all the outfits.’
‘What are you here for then?’
‘Dunno. Decoration,’ she smiled, playing with her gold hooped earrings. ‘I’ve been like a spare part all bloody day. Still suits me getting paid to do nothing.’
‘Well, she’s gone back to the hotel, so I think you’d better pick something out,’ replied Summer, taking a cup of water from the cooler.
‘That’s right, she’s got her boyfriend coming, hasn’t she, lucky bitch,’ sniffed Tessa. ‘Have you ever met him? Sexy as fuck. Too good for Kaiser.’
Summer laughed. ‘I’ve seen Adam. Never met him, though. Men like that scare me a little. Too good-looking. Too rich.
Too much.
I’m sure Karin can handle it though.’
‘A man can never be too sexy or too rich,’ said Tessa, her fingers speeding through the racks. She pulled out a tiny white bikini and handed it to Summer.
‘Try that. You’ve got the body for it.’
Summer stripped off and poured her curves into the bikini. ‘It’s a bit small,’ she said, struggling to fasten it. ‘Can you help me?’
‘Your tits are massive,’ grumbled Tessa, pulling the white strip of Lycra tight across Summer’s back.
Summer breathed in, the fabric like a straitjacket across her chest, and walked out of the trailer, feeling fat and uncomfortable.
Karin hadn’t wanted to miss a second of shoot time, but she knew she had to freshen up before Adam’s arrival. She’d almost jumped for joy when she had told Adam about the shoot in Anguilla and he had suggested coming along so they could
tag a few days in St Barts at the end of it. But the fact that Summer Sinclair was also going to be there had made her feel a little nervous. The young model was looking fabulous. Too fabulous, thought Karin, considering Adam’s imminent arrival. Her eyes, an iridescent lavender in the bright Caribbean sun, exuded the right amount of both sensuality and innocence. Her incredible body – her slim hips and round, voluptuous breasts – was sexy and womanly. She was a goddess; perfect for the campaign. Karin knew that thousands of women would want to look like her. But the last thing she wanted was
Adam
to want her.
She picked out a sheer printed Ossie Clark kaftan, chic and sexy, showing the outline of her perfect figure underneath. She wasn’t going to try and compete with Miss Sexpot down on the beach; she had her own brand of potent sexuality.
Taking a seat by the plunge pool of her suite, she heard the door clatter open and a bellboy put Adam’s expensive-looking leather suitcase on the bed.
Adam followed behind him; he walked onto the balcony and wrapped his arms around Karin’s waist. He looked good, in cream trousers and a Hermès belt, leather flip-flops and a pale blue Lacoste shirt. He had the smooth olive skin that tanned in seconds and had already caught some sun across the bridge of his nose.
‘Fancy a dip?’ he smiled, walking over to the minibar and pouring himself a vodka miniature.
‘Tempting,’ she smiled, walking back into the room, ‘but I’ve got to be at the shoot.’
‘Of course. I can’t wait to see the master at work.’
She knew it was the truth and threw him a dazzling smile.
He opened his case and changed his T-shirt.
‘Marcus said that the model is Molly’s daughter,’ he said, climbing into the golf buggy that was to take them to the beach.
‘Small world, hey,’ replied Karin, putting her hand on his knee.
‘Apparently Molly was angling to get a lift in the jet and come over.’
‘Well I’m glad
that
never happened,’ said Karin tartly. ‘She’d have been sneaking off to take coke every two minutes and no doubt taking her daughter with her.’
Adam laughed. It was a throaty, knowing chuckle. ‘I’m not sure what you have against the poor woman. You make out as if she’s Keith Richards or something. She doesn’t seem that bad at all. In fact, Marcus seems to really like her.’
‘She likes Marcus’s position in your company. She’s a fortune-hunter, plain and simple. She likes the drinks invitations to your house, the little weekends in St Moritz courtesy of Marcus’s bank balance. He should be careful.’
‘Marcus can look after himself. Anyway. Is she hot?’
‘Who?’
‘Molly’s daughter.’
Karin turned and frowned. ‘What? Hot like Molly?’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘Well, you can see for yourself,’ said Karin moodily as they rounded the corner and the white strip of beach, fringed with palm trees and a sweep of emerald ocean, came into view.
Summer was back in the surf by the time they had reached the beach and walked over to where Dan was peering into his camera.
‘Look at me like you wanna have sex with me, Summer,’ shouted Dan, his tousled head bobbing up to watch her.
‘Dream on, Dan,’ laughed his assistant Mike, adjusting the silver bounce board at right angles to Summer.
Summer stretched out on the beach, where the waves were breaking on the shore, letting white surf swirl under her and tickle her stomach.
‘Is this okay?’
‘Gorgeous,’ shouted Dan.
Summer looked up. She could see Karin and Adam walking towards the shoot from the hotel. Adam looked directly at her and smiled as Summer suddenly felt very exposed and naked. Shit, he was good-looking, she thought, fiddling with her bandeau top to pull it up a little higher. She felt self-conscious enough on shoots as it was – she had never learned to fully relax in five years of modelling, but it was easier when she wasn’t surrounded by good-looking men.
‘Dan, I told you not to start without me,’ snapped Karin, fanning herself with a magazine.
‘There’s only another hour of good light.’ Dan was peering into his camera, not bothering to look up.
‘Why is she wearing that thong with a bandeau?’ Karin asked, looking around for Tessa. ‘They’re not a set.’
Tessa came running clumsily over the sand with an armful of swimsuits. ‘Do you want to change it?’
‘Of course I want to change it. Get the chocolate-brown tankini.’
‘It looks good to me,’ smiled Adam, who had his arms folded and was watching the action intently.
Karin looked at Summer lying in the sand like a wanton sea siren. In the tiny white thong, her buttocks rose out of the sand like two perfectly ripe peaches. She had to admit she looked sensational.
A big wave swooshed onto the shore and Karin heard a ping.
‘Argh!’ screamed Summer, as her bandeau top popped off and was swept away along the beach.
Tessa scampered after it as Summer lay rigid on the sand to stop her breasts being exposed to everyone.
Dan Stevens kept peering intently into his camera. ‘Summer, honey. Can you just relax your expression and let’s keep shooting?’
‘But my top!’ she said with a half laugh.
Karin saw immediately what Dan was thinking. ‘Yes. Just trust him.’ The image in front of them, Summer, almost naked and glorious, was more potent.
Her mind whirled into action. She could see the billboard in her mind, crystal clear. A potent image, a provocative shout-line. This campaign was going to be sensational. It was going to cause a stir. It was going to make Summer a star, she thought with a grimace.
Shooting wrapped at six.
Adam treated everyone to a lobster supper at the clapboard seafood restaurant on the seafront and, as darkness fell, everyone adjourned, drunk and happy, to the Beach Barbecue that the hotel threw every Wednesday. A steel band played a Bob Marley medley. Dan was helping himself to a second dinner, piling a huge mountain of jerk chicken onto a plate, Mike the photographic assistant was chatting up the make-up artist.
The beach was swarming with guests from the hotel. A bonfire crackled, its orange flames leaping into an ink-black sky.
Karin sipped a little rum punch and felt smug. Summer stood alone at the water’s edge, dipping her toes into the cold, foamy surf, glad it was over, daring to think it had been a success.
‘You were really great today.’
Summer stopped listening to the waves on the shore and looked up to see Adam. ‘Sure I didn’t look like a porn star?’
‘Have you seen any porn magazines recently? Believe me, they don’t look like that shoot this afternoon.’
Summer could feel herself blush in the darkness and looked over to the bonfire to avoid his gaze. ‘We’ve only just met
and we’re talking about porn,’ she laughed nervously. ‘Believe me, I’m not that kind of girl.’
‘And I’m not that kind of guy,’ he smiled.
‘So we can call it quits.’
‘We’ll never mention the p-word again.’
‘Or I’ll tell my mother you’re a bad influence.’
‘And I don’t want to get on the wrong side of her,’ laughed Adam. The silence hung like a charge in the air and it made Summer feel suddenly uncomfortable.
‘I’m going back to the hotel. It’s been a long day.’
She had already started walking away from him. When she looked over her shoulder, back at the surf, he was still standing there watching her and lifted his hand to wave.
From this distance she felt safer. She smiled as a happy buzz hummed around her body, scolding herself immediately for feeling it.
Karin had changed into a long white strapless jersey dress. A long silver turquoise pendant fell between her collarbones and her hair was swept up into an elegant chignon. Excluding Summer, she was the most beautiful woman at the party. Including Summer, she was the most stylish. She had still kept her eye on her model all evening. She’d seen Adam watching her on the shoot and had been on red alert ever since, even though Summer, she begrudgingly had to admit, seemed a sweet girl.
Despite her sex appeal, Summer seemed to lack that predatory gene that constituted her mother’s make-up, although it was Karin’s mantra never to trust anyone.
Dan Stevens lolloped up to Karin, visibly drunk and waving a balloon of rum.
‘What do you think my chances are with Summer?’ he slurred.
‘You’re a married man,’ laughed Karin, secretly hoping
he might entertain Summer for the evening and diffuse the threat.
‘Well, I need a distraction to keep me in check,’ he smiled. ‘Why don’t you make a speech?’ he added.