Authors: Amanda Stevens
There was a significant pause on the other end of the line. “I can’t break client confidentiality, Zach, you know that. I can’t tell you where she lives, can’t even give you her phone number. And there is no way you will ever coerce me into telling you about the shoot she has set up at midnight tonight at Julian Sindel’s studio.”
Zach frowned into the phone. “Midnight? That’s a hell of a time for a photo shoot, isn’t it? Sindel agreed to that with
his
temperament?”
“That’s one of the lady’s stipulations, and Julian Sindel, like all the other photographers in the city, would jump through burning hoops for the chance to photograph her. Anya Valorian only works at night, will only agree to pose for very short sessions, and she insists on her own makeup artist. And believe me, Julian Sindel couldn’t have been more accommodating.”
A strange sensation slipped along Zach’s spine, prickling the hair at the back of his neck. For no reason he could
define, he felt a vague uneasiness creeping over him. “All right, midnight then,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Right. But we never had this conversation.”
“Goes without saying,” Zach agreed before he hung up the phone.
He picked up one of the magazines and studied Anya Valorian’s delicate features. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly what that certain something about her was, but no doubt about it, the camera adored her every perfect feature—the long, silvery blond hair, the flawless, ivory complexion, the intense blue eyes—oh, God, those eyes!—that seemed to promise a man a glimpse of heaven—or hell—for which he would gladly surrender his soul.
Zach touched his fingertip to her cool image, and his skin tingled with anticipation.
Tonight,
her eyes seemed to vow.
Tonight you will know my price.
Tonight, Zach thought, and she would be his….
* * *
Julian Sindel’s posh studio on Fifth Avenue was awash with bright lights and crawling with people when Zach arrived just before midnight. He hadn’t called ahead, but Sindel owed him a favor from way back, and Zach intended to cash it in tonight. Sindel’s assistant, a wan, corpselike young man in tight leather pants and Billy Idol hair, waylaid him at the front door.
“Tell your boss Zach Christopher is here to watch the shoot.”
The man’s pale eyes glided over Zach’s leather bomber jacket, faded jeans and scuffed boots with open disdain. One reedlike hand came up in a dramatic pose that looked carefully choreographed. “I hardly think Mr. Sindel will allow spectators—”
“Just give him my name,” Zach demanded in a voice
that said he was quite used to giving orders and having them obeyed, and he expected no less from this man.
The assistant sucked in his hollow cheeks. “Very well. But I must insist that you remain outside until I return. Which will be momentarily, I assure you.” He turned sharply on his heel and disappeared into the frenetic crowd scurrying to and fro inside the studio. When he returned, his expression was distinctly pettish. “Mr. Sindel has graciously allowed you entrée, but do try to make yourself scarce. This is a very important shoot.”
“You won’t even know I’m here,” Zach assured him as he strode past the militant cadaver without another glance.
Stepping over cables and avoiding props, Zach wandered around the busy studio. The stage set had been constructed in the center of the room, and crew members rushed to and from the brilliantly lit circle like spokes from the hub of a wheel. The set itself was a lavish, opulent, harem-looking affair in deep red velvets, burnished gold silks and filmy chiffon drapery. It would have been the perfect setting for Seduction, Zach decided.
He spotted the famous photographer in an obscure corner near the back of the studio. In spite of his small stature, Julian Sindel barked his instructions to the crew with all the finesse of a Marine drill sergeant. His appearance seemed completely incongruous with the name and the legend. The stained khaki pants, plaid flannel shirt and quilted down vest were more suited to a man heading off on a fishing expedition than one who would soon be photographing the elusive Anya Valorian.
In spite of his appearance, Zach knew that Julian Sindel was the one photographer in the city who could capture Anya’s exquisite beauty, who could insure her a successful comeback. And if Zach played his cards right, which he
intended to do, he’d sign them both for his upcoming publicity blitz.
“Who’s your client on this one?” he asked without preamble as he strolled up behind the photographer.
Julian’s gray eyes snapped with impatience as he swung around, then, noticing Zach, he smiled wryly. “What are you up to, Zachary? When Elliot told me you were at the door, I knew something had to be afoot. Trying to get a leg up on the competition?”
Zach took a stab at looking innocent. “Nothing of the sort. I happened to be in the neighborhood—”
“Stow it, Christopher.” Julian handed the camera he’d been fiddling with to one of his assistants and walked toward the set. “You came to see
her,
didn’t you?”
Zach followed him, considering for a moment denying the charge, but then shrugged. “I want to meet her face-to-face. I’ve got an ad campaign coming up that she’d be perfect for.”
“Seduction?”
Zach frowned. “How the hell did you know about that?”
“I have my sources. In this business, nothing’s sacred. Seduction is a relic, Zach. Your brother shelved that fragrance years ago, and rightly so. Both Renee Alexander Cosmetics and Seduction are associated with women of a certain age. In our business, youth is everything. If you want to appeal to the broader market, you’d be better off to commission yourself a new signature perfume.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Zach said coolly. He was well aware of the reasons why Matthew had abandoned the Seduction fragrance years ago when he’d first gone to work for the company. Hadn’t Zach heard those same reasons over and over again when he’d first decided to resurrect Seduction?
Still, Zach knew he was on to something. He alone had
faith in his decision. The fragrance Matthew had adopted to replace Seduction hadn’t done so well, anyway. In fact, Zach had been surprised at how poorly the sales figures for Sundancer had been since its inception eleven years ago. Why William had kept marketing the fragrance year after year was a mystery to Zach.
Or was it? His father had complete faith in every decision Matthew had ever made. Evidence to the contrary be damned.
“Youth isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be,” Zach snapped, surprised by the fresh sting of old bitterness. “I happen to think Seduction is a classic that can make a successful comeback—just like Anya Valorian. The two were made for each other.”
A light of interest glinted in Julian’s gray eyes. He seemed to mull over the idea. “Hmm. An intriguing concept, Zachary, I must say. You may be on to something at that. Anya Valorian is no longer a fresh-faced teenager, though you certainly couldn’t tell that by her complexion. But there’s something…timelessly alluring about her.”
Zach paused, for some reason hesitant to question Julian further, reluctant to show how much this campaign meant to him. But his curiosity got the better of him. He said, “What’s she like, Julian? I mean, besides the obvious.”
It was Julian’s turn to pause. Something flickered in his eyes, nothing more than a brief shadow, but it was enough to make Zach experience that same sort of vague uneasiness he’d had in his office earlier.
“She’s beautiful, of course,” Julian said slowly. “Very elegant and reserved. Extremely intelligent. But there’s something about her. I don’t know how to explain it. She has a sort of haunting, unforgettable quality I’ve never run across in my thirty years in this business. And her eyes. My God, those incredible eyes!” It was hard to decipher
the nuance in Julian’s voice. Was it wonder? Admiration? Zach would almost have named it fear, if the notion hadn’t been so ludicrous.
“Her eyes are utterly compelling, almost…hypnotic,” Julian continued. “The color is extraordinary. It’s almost as though she can see inside your soul…. I tell you, Zach, it’s a very disconcerting feeling, being alone with her….”
Zach smiled, anticipating that pleasure himself. “And if you can capture that quality on film…” His voice trailed off suggestively. Their gazes met and held.
“Exactly,” Julian agreed. “She would make us all very rich indeed.”
Success,
Zach thought. That was what Anya Valorian stood for to him. Success in his own right. Success no one could diminish. Success that would vindicate him, once and for all.
“Look alive, people!” Julian barked, clapping his hands for attention. “And someone inform Miss Valorian we’re ready for her.”
There was a general exodus toward the dressing room as everyone clamored for their first look at the eccentric model. But before anyone had time to knock, the door opened, the crowd fell back, and a reverent hush descended over the room.
* * *
This was the worst part, Anya thought, her stomach churning in dread. This transformation—stepping from the dimly lit dressing room into the brilliance of the set, putting herself on display for all the world to see. She hated it, despised it as passionately as she had once loved it—the attention, the adoration, the mindless worship of the flesh. How foolish she had once been, how caught up in her own pleasures, her own sense of immortality.
How small and insignificant it all seemed now with her
knowledge and her power and her vision. Still, if she could turn back the clock and return to that same shallow, conceited adolescent she had once been, Anya knew she would gladly do so. But that was impossible, as impossible and remote as…her next sunrise.
She blinked rapidly, trying to accustom herself to the lights as she walked toward the set, ever aware of the dozens of eyes that moved all over her. Anya’s skin crawled from the invasion, but she ignored the sensation as she gave Julian Sindel a tentative smile. Anya knew she looked good. As always, Freida had skillfully applied her cosmetics and done her hair. Anya would never trust anyone else to do so.
“Magnificent,” Julian said, his critical eye roving over her face and hair, then downward, to the bloodred satin gown she wore. “We’ll tone down the lighting, focus on the eyes….”
Julian turned to say something to one of his assistants, and for the first time, Anya noticed the man standing behind him. He towered over the photographer by a good seven inches or so, and even Anya had to slant her gaze upward. As her vision adjusted to the bright lights, her eyes locked with his. Her heart skidded to a stop, then pounded against her chest like a caged animal trying to get free.
The first thing that struck Anya about his looks was how bronzed his skin was, a testament to a great deal of time spent outdoors, she thought, with a keen stab of envy. His eyes were beautiful, extraordinarily green and lush. They reminded Anya of a meadow on a summer’s day, and his hair was light brown and streaked with ribbons of trapped sunlight.
He was tall, at least six two, and his shoulders looked broad and powerful beneath the leather jacket. The snug jeans confirmed his narrow waist, lean hips and muscular
thighs, and as Anya’s gaze lifted once more, she felt the pulse flutter in her throat at the intensity in the verdant depths of his eyes.
But it wasn’t his looks that had set her nerves on edge or the blood pounding through her veins. It was the fact that he could look her in the eye for long, unwavering seconds and not turn away, as most people had to. His stare burned its way into her soul—as though with that one look he could drag from her her deepest secrets, her darkest memories and expose them to the golden light that seemed to surround him.
Dear God,
she thought weakly. Could
he
be the one?
As though recognizing her weakness, the man stepped forward, his own gaze frankly returning her appraisal. He held out his hand. “Zach Christopher. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Valorian,” he said in a deep, resonant voice that seemed to thrum through her entire body.
Anya stared at his outstretched hand. Did she dare touch him? she wondered. Perhaps that would be the ultimate test. She let her fingertips briefly glide against his skin, felt a searing sensation somewhere inside her chest. Quickly she broke the contact.
“Mr. Christopher,” she said with a slight breathless quality to her voice. “Why do I know that name?”
“My company has made you several offers over the last few days. Which, I might add, your agent summarily rejected.” There was nothing in his voice to imply his displeasure, but Anya knew it was there. Sensed it. Along with the cold determination glinting in his eyes.
She suppressed a shudder as she continued to stare up at him. “You’re with Renee Alexander Cosmetics?”
“Guilty.” His smile was easy, utterly charming. And dangerously misleading.
“I see. Well, I must say, you people are persistent if
nothing else. But as I’ve instructed my agent to inform your representative, Mr. Christopher, I’m not interested in an exclusive contract.”
“You haven’t heard my latest proposition.”
Their gazes touched once more. Once more, Anya felt the impact deep, deep inside her. “Mr. Christopher—”
“Zach, I hate to interrupt these delicate negotiations, but get lost,” Julian invited without malice. To Anya he said, “Let’s get started, shall we? As I understand it, we only have a short time.”
Anya turned toward the set, but the man called Zach Christopher caught her arm. Her skin burned with awareness beneath his touch. As though he felt the fire, too, he dropped her arm immediately, but Anya could still feel his mark.
It made her tremble to think of what his kiss might do to her.
“Ms. Valorian, I would very much like an opportunity to discuss this further. A breakfast meeting, perhaps?”
“I’m afraid that would be quite impossible.”
His jaw set stubbornly and he frowned. “Lunch then.”
“Mr. Christopher, no matter what your proposition might be, I’m afraid you’d be wasting your time. I’m not available for a long-term commitment.”
“I think I could change your mind,” he insisted, his green eyes deepening to jade.