by Deena Remiel
Picture Perfect
by
Deena Remiel
Picture Perfect
By Deena Remiel
Kindle Edition
Copyright ©2011 by Deena Remiel
Picture Perfect is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher and/or author, except for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.
Dedication
To Jimmy Thomas, and all the beautiful models who grace our covers
Chapter One
“Stay right there! Don’t move! I gotta change the lighting real fast.”
No problem. I always like a woman’s firm breast smashed against my lips for extended periods of time. Jamie, the consummate professional, had felt the breasts of hundreds of women on his face, his lips, and in his hands during his successful modeling career. Today was no different. Except for one tiny difference. The model whose breast was gracing his lips wanted it there, not so much for the exquisite photo it would provide, but for herself. He sighed inwardly. How many times would he have to tell Brittany that they were just friends, that the poses were strictly business? It was a mixed blessing that they took such amazing shots together. It was like they knew exactly how to move together as one, giving the photographer what he wanted- sensuality that was over the top. But when the camera stopped clicking, it was over. For Jamie. Apparently, Brittany kept losing that memo.
“All right, got it. Now you can move. Really heighten the sensuality now.” The photographer turned up the volume on his iPod as Chris Isaak crooned Wicked Game and sent erotic vibes throughout the hotel room.
Jamie lost himself in the passionate play, raking seeking fingers through Brittany’s hair and licking her neck to earlobe. Brittany gave him a tempting stare, moaned and arched back, giving him full reign over her body. He leaned forward, resting his head on her breasts and closed his eyes. He trailed his hands down her waist to her panties and tugged.
“Hold it! Changing position!”
“I can’t hold it, Bill! My back is killing me!” She crumpled all the way to the mattress. “I need a break. Can we break for ten minutes, sugar?”
“Bill, take ten.” The photographer nodded, set down the camera, and left the hotel room. “Go ahead and relax, Brit. I have a phone call to make anyway.”
“I thought maybe we could relax together, you know?” She raised her arms and grabbed Jamie on top of her. “Release some of this extra tension and energy.”
“Brittany, I….” He raised himself off of her. “I thought we had an understanding.”
“Oh, you’re no fun at all.” She got up on her knees and played with the waistband of her panties. “I know you want me, James. You always want me. You just like to play hard to get.”
She pushed her breasts against his chest. He gently but firmly grabbed her shoulders and pushed her off. “Save it for the camera, honey, okay?”
“You’re seriously not going to take me up on my offer?”
“I didn’t the first time you offered, or the second. And I’m not going to now. We’ve got a great business relationship, Brit. For the camera only. Let’s keep it that way.” He hated to have to say this over and over again, but she played thick as a brick.
She pouted, sulked, and got off the bed. He watched as she picked up her jeans and squeezed herself into each pant leg. She snatched her shirt from the bureau.
“Uh , what are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m leaving.” She thrust her head through the neck of the t-shirt, pulled it down, and walked out of the bedroom part of the suite.
Jamie jumped off the bed and hurried after her in his boxers. “What are you talking about? We still have three more hours to shoot. That’s what I contracted the photographer for. You can’t just walk out on me like this.”
She walked to the door, turned, and glared at him. “Watch me.”
“You’re backing out on me just because I won’t screw you? Seriously?”
“When you figure out that we are meant to be together behind the camera as well as in front, you can call me. Maybe I’ll be around. But, I’m done with you and your mixed messages.” She opened the door and stormed out leaving Jamie standing in the middle of the room, scratching his head in amazement.
The photographer walked back, bringing with him the acrid stench of smoke. “Where’s your model going in such a huff?”
“Home. It’s just you and me for the rest of our time, Bill. I could use some more solo shots anyway.” He shook his head and shook off his frustration. “Let’s shoot some in the Jacuzzi, and some against that wall, and maybe some in the bed with me sleeping.”
“Sure. Your dime, my friend.”
As the shoot progressed he kept reviewing what happened with Brittany. The same thing that happened with Annalise and Finola and…the list went on. Women! They always got caught up in the fantasy of the shoot, allowing their emotions to accept that what they were doing for the camera, they were doing for real. He’d have to look into a new batch of models in the morning.
***
The Harley rumbled beneath him like a possessed demon horse, and when he arrived at his rented beach house around midnight, he parked it and headed straight for the shoreline. The Pacific Ocean had a way of calming his spirit and bringing clarity to any situation. He kicked off his shoes and dug his toes into the cool sand. The moon shone brightly over the relatively quiet ocean, making millions of glittering stars appear on its surface. He’d turned melancholy and disquieted on the way back home. He loved his modeling business. He’d been doing it for so many years now, and it had become quite a lucrative endeavor. But it had its costs. If the models weren’t throwing a hissy fit over their unrequited love, the ladies he dated turned into jealous, neurotic freaks whenever he discussed a shoot or showed them photos of his romance novel covers.
He sighed, flexed his legs, and leaned back on his elbows in the sand. The model problem he could handle. There were tons more of them who he could ask to join him for a photo shoot. The real issue, the one that had been eating him up inside, continued to be a sore spot on his heart.
Jamie yearned for love, real love, the kind of love portrayed on the thousands of covers he graced.
Where’s that special woman who can understand the nature of what I do? How I make it seem as if I’m having sex, but it’s just business and nothing more? He’d run out of ideas as to where to find her. He snickered at the rolling waves, creeping up on him, teasing him, and pulling away. Just like the woman he dreamed of. There had been a couple who could stand what part of his job entailed, for a little while. But as usual, they broke away and backed off, their own insecurities getting the better of them. Tired, physically and emotionally, he drug himself off the beach, shoes slung over his shoulder, and passed out on the chaise lounge sitting on the back porch, clothes still on.
Chapter Two
A sunrise at land’s end. Nothing better to symbolize a new beginning, a fresh start. Hope figured by greeting the day together with the sun, she upped her chances of making today a great day. Lord, but she needed one. At thirty-three years of age, she’d been through it all—marriage, divorce, dreams realized and quashed, and now, unemployment. Today’s my birthday, and by God, I’ll make sure it starts out on the right foot. The sun hadn’t quite risen yet, so she meandered along the beach waiting for the first peek of color to wash across the horizon. And there
it is. She sighed.
“Ow! Son of a bitch!” What the hell had she stepped on? Bending over, she looked down to find a large shard of a shell sticking up out of the sand. Damn it! She picked up her right foot to inspect it and immediately saw droplets of her blood soaking into the sand. Well, isn’t this just grand? So much for starting out on the right foot. The cut on her sole bled profusely, and she wasn’t quite sure how to staunch it other than cover it with her shirt. Thank goodness she’d worn a bathing suit underneath her clothes. But how to get back to her house? She snorted. Good question Hope. Now what’s the answer?
She looked around for anyone that might be as crazy as she for coming out so early, but not a soul joined her. Great. Now what? Her foot throbbed in rhythm with her heart. She needed to get her foot washed, bandaged, and up in the air quick. She looked around again, this time to see how close any of the beach houses were that dotted past the dunes. The one nearest had sea green shingles and a white wrap around porch. It had a very non-assuming and friendly look. She’d been judged by the book covers she created, so she figured the house may very well be a good reflection of its owner.
Hobbling through the sand and up the dunes gave her quite a workout. Every step she took made her wince and left a little token of her affection for the sea, a bloody footprint. Her once white tank top now boasted a horrid shade of deep red. She reached the apex of the sand hill and saw the silhouette of a person sitting on the porch.
“Hello? Hello!” She waved her arms high in the air. “Excuse me; I could use a little help. I’ve cut my foot and I’m bleeding like a stuck pig.” The blob didn’t move. Did she mistake an outdoor statue for a person? She hoped not. She felt poorly at this point. Gathering her energy, Hope drew in a deep breath and projected her voice. “Excuse me! Can you help me, please? Hello? Oh….”
The world according to Hope whirled around her and spun out of control. Her body crumbled and rolled down the dune toward the house. And abruptly her world went dark.
***
She was moving. Actually, she felt someone carrying her and moving her. But who? Her brain swam like when she’d twirled a hundred times on the grass as a child. Opening her eyes, she looked up at her savior and thought she must still be in “la la Land”. A strong jawline, a straight nose, and five o’clock shadow graced the profile of a Greek god. A hairband captured dark brown hair at the base of his neck. Her foot twitched and she groaned.
“Easy now, I’ve got you. My name is James White and I’m just gonna bring you onto my porch to see to that foot of yours.”
“Oh, thank you, James. Thank you so much. I don’t feel so well. I stepped on a shell. My name is Hope Evans.”
“Hi there, Hope. Don’t worry. I’m first aid certified.” He laid her gently on a chaise lounge, grabbed a few pillows from some other chairs and placed them under her foot. “I’ll be right back. I need to get my first aid kit, and I think a cup of OJ for you to drink might help, too.” His smile reassured her that all would be well. He ducked inside giving her a chance to look around. She’d missed most of the sun rise, but she didn’t care anymore. Due to a kindhearted fellow, she’d found an angel at dawn instead.
He returned in no time with the glass of juice and quickly attended to her nasty cut. She smiled as she willingly took the cup from his grasp. “Drink that up. It’ll help get you feeling better. You really did a number on your foot here, missy. I can patch you up temporarily, but I think you’re gonna need stitches. Is your car nearby? Wait it’s on your right foot. You couldn’t drive anyway.”
“Great, just great. No, my car’s in the garage at home. I walked the beach to watch the sun rise for my birthday. Happy freakin’ birthday to me,” she muttered and leaned her head back on the headrest.
“I’ve got nothing doing until much later. I can take you. And happy birthday.” He smiled again.
Damn, that’s one mighty fine smile, and his eyes! Holy bejeebers, hazel never looked so sexy. He sure as hell rivals the cover models I use on my covers. Well, had used anyway. Stupid economy! Okay, no depressing thoughts on my birthday. None. Think happy thoughts, and not about the lengthy stay in an urgent care facility.
“You are one very kind man, James. It is James, isn’t it? I was a bit loopy when you told me.”
“Yes, but it’s no big deal taking you to the Urgent Care, and if it is, no matter. I couldn’t very well let your foot fester and rot, now could I? If I did, the doctors would have to amputate, and it wouldn’t be pretty.”
“Handsome, smart, and funny, too. I believe I’m hallucinating all of this.” Hope laughed and then screamed. “Ow! Shit! What the hell are you doing? That hurts like a mmm….”
“Sorry! Cleaning the wound. There’s a lot of sand stuck in the cut. Gotta make sure to get it all out.”
Hope breathed deeply in and out until he finished preparing her for travel. She’d never experienced so much pain in her life. When were her bad times going to turn around? The only bright spot in this whole debacle is James. What a sweet man. She didn’t see any ring on his finger, but that didn’t mean anything. He obviously took care of himself, given how well defined his muscles were. You don’t pour junk down the throat of that sexy body. And he’s smart. What guy these days takes the time to get first aid certified?
“So what do you do for a living?” she asked, needing to focus on something other than the pain.
“I have my own modeling business. I offer solo and couple stock photos for romance covers.”
“Get out!” She whacked his arm.
“Uh, if I do, you’re on your own with your foot here.”
“Ask me what I do. Go ahead.” She nudged him.
He chuckled and cleared his throat. “Ahem. Hope, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a cover artist! Well, a recently unemployed cover artist. Damn economy. I got laid-off from my publisher.”
“No shit? Man, I’m so sorry about the lay-off. But what a coincidence, huh?” He laughed. It made Hope tingle from her head straight through her belly and down to her pounding toes.
Oh, he needs to do that again, and then some.
“Why don’t we finish this conversation on the way over to the Urgent Care? I bet we could talk for hours comparing notes, and your foot is now ready for transport.”
“Sounds like a plan. Thank you so much.” She rested a hand on his. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you for your kindness and taking such good care of me.”
“Don’t give it a second thought. Wait here while I open the car door. Don’t move. I don’t want you disturbing my masterful first aid.” He winked and left Hope melting on the chaise.
Oh, he’s just too good to be true. Honestly. Something’s got to be wrong with him.
He returned and scooped her up in his arms as though she weighed but a feather. A feather, Hope was not. She had womanly curves to her, courtesy of her mother, but she kept herself fit. “Your chariot awaits, Madame.”
“That would be mademoiselle, thank you very much. I earned that title back about seven years ago. These have been the best seven years of my life, relatively speaking.” She laughed and found herself whisked away to his car. He eased her into the passenger seat of his Audi TT, walked around and got in the driver’s side, closing the door beside him.
“Yeah, got me one of those under my belt, too. Strap in, please. It’s been five years now for me. I’m definitely better off.” He turned and looked at her, she looked at him. “Are you ready?”
“I’m ready to cut off my foot, so yes, let’s go.”
James drove the convertible like Hope was about to give birth, fast and furious. He pulled right up to the front doors.
“I think we need to go back to your place.”
“Huh?” He looked perplexed. “What do you mean?”
“Yeah, I believe my guts are lying somewhere between your house and the entrance here. I’d really like to gather them up. They may be useful to me someday.”
They both broke ou
t in laughter and he leaned over to open her door. Her breath caught as his glorious face passed, inches from her own. He looked at her briefly, intently, as he eased back to his side and proceeded to get out. He came around the car and lifted her once again in his mammoth arms. She clasped her hands around his thick neck, enjoying the feel of his muscles moving beneath them. He carried her into the medical building and still held her as he talked to the office clerk. A few moments later, the technician led them to an examination room, where James laid her gently on a table. He sat next to her on a chair.
“James?” She bit her lower lip, nerves creeping their way in.
“Hmm?”
“I’m scared.”
He scooted his chair forward. “What are scared about?” He played with a lock of her hair that had fallen over the edge of the table.
“Whatever they’re gonna do, it’s gonna hurt. I don’t like pain.”
He flashed his pearly whites and grabbed ahold of her hand. “I’ll be right here. And if there are any scary needles or other implements of torture, I’ll tell you to turn your head. Deal?”
That made everything so much better. “Deal. Are you an uncle? I think you’d make a terrific uncle.”
He laughed. “Thank you. And yes, in fact, I am, to a pair of monkeys otherwise known as my sister’s kids. I love ‘em, but they don’t stop until they are lying in bed. And for some reason they think I’m their personal jungle gym.”
At that moment, the doctor came in to examine her. She would need twenty stitches, and her foot bandaged. No walking on it until it healed. After nearly fainting again from getting sewn up, Hope hobbled out of the Urgent Care with crutches, a bottle of antibiotics, and James by her side.
“So, now that you’re all patched up, where can I take you?” He helped her get into the car and leaned against the doorframe.
“Well, how about home? I’m exhausted from this whole ordeal. My birthday is screwed up anyhow. Yeah, home sounds good.”
