His trousers were puddled around his ankles, the lining getting splattered with green dots. He cupped his hands down low, hoping his shirttail covered vital areas. The irony didn't escape him. "I didn't agree to this."
Mia glanced up. "Nice boxer briefs. But not silk. I am sooo disappointed."
Just deserts for leering at her. "Can I get out of my shoes and socks?"
"Yeah, strip for me, sugar," one of the models said. Unfortunately, it was Argyle.
"Let's be professionals, shall we?" Mia helped Julian step out of his pants, which, under other circumstances, might have pleased him. But the sexy mood was killed. "Mr. Silk is doing me a favor."
She smiled at him as he bent and peeled off his socks.
Definitely killed. No man looked good in bare legs and dark socks. He slipped off his jacket, wondering what he'd gotten himself into and if it would help him get into Mia.
But he was already into Mia. Just not in the one way he expected.
The group continued to mutter complaints. "Hold still a little while longer," Mia soothed. "The sooner Julian is positioned, the sooner I can let you guys go."
Ah, what the hell. He gave himself up, arms outflung. "Go ahead. Position me."
"We're not shooting The Joy of Sex," she whispered as she guided him onto the set. The paper backdrop crinkled beneath his bare toes. He felt absurd, but liberated. His normal business day didn't include posing with a troupe of half-naked artsy types. This was the kind of thing he'd growl at Very for doing.
Mia told him to get down on the floor. "Don't worry about your shirt and tie. They won't be in the picture. Nor your face. All I need's a handy pair of legs so I can test out the composition and this new green color. The navy blue I did on Cherie wasn't working."
Seemed like a lot of bother to Julian, but he'd never paid all that much attention to the ins and outs of production. He did as told, feeling utterly foolish, like a helpless turtle. If his board of directors could see him now, they'd be apoplectic with shock.
Cress circled the group, draping them with fabric. Mia snapped photos, the shutter whirring. They rearranged body parts and took more shots. Julian was dismissed early on, thankfully, but instead of hurrying off to wash and dress he stayed close, fascinated. Not with the process, so much. With Mia. She drew his gaze and held it. He was enchanted, like a child at a candy-store window.
After a while, it occurred to him that he was no longer the seducer. He was seduced.
* * *
5
"Thanks for being a trooper."
Julian seemed to wince at Mia's cheery words. Was he still embarrassed?
She finished washing out her brushes at the work sink and absently ran over the bristles with the pad of her thumb, thinking that she probably shouldn't have pushed him into posing for her.
Then again, why not? Loosening up was good for him. He'd seemed so out of place, decked out in full business attire while the rest of them hung loose. At the back of her mind had been the notion of proving to him that their worlds could never coincide—they could only collide. Scare him off, so to speak.
He'd surprised her.
Usually, she liked surprises. And she had enjoyed the incredible sight of the great and mighty magazine magnate, detrousered and on his back with his hairy, naked legs up in the air. She hadn't really needed him for the shoot. That had been a ploy.
But he'd met the challenge, with his sense of humor—and even dignity, of a sort—intact. Once again, she'd learned that there was more to the man than surface charm and a mind for business.
"I have one regret," he said.
She looked up. He was watching her with his eyes all black and shiny. Goose bumps prickled her skin. A draft seemed to fly up her loose shirt, except it wasn't cold. It was warm and moist. She pressed her thighs together.
The butt end of the brushes rattled as she dropped them into a big glass jar. "What's your regret?"
They were interrupted by laughter. Sue, Maurizio and Fred were in the shower room—the only semi-enclosed space in the studio apartment. Steam curled from the foot of open space above the three-quarter walls made of sandblasted glass framed in black metal.
Julian stared at their silhouettes, wavering in and out against the opaque glass. One of the men snapped a towel at Sue's butt. The cat came skittering out from the half-open door, wearing a wet washcloth.
"Go ahead," Mia said, amused by his goggling. Despite the glass walls—or because of them—the shower room was as much a part of the open studio as the other work/sleep/eat areas. Her models loved the luxury of the new bathroom, which she'd recently installed. Especially the oversize shower stall. "Join them."
A smile teased her lips. She knew Julian wouldn't, even though he remained pantless with his legs painted green. "That's your regret, isn't it? You've never had a ménage a quatre?"
He shook his head, eyes still gleaming. The man had mischief on his mind and if she didn't want to find out the details of his naughty thoughts, she'd better quit teasing him. And keep Cress around as a buffer.
"Is that what they're doing? It looks more like horseplay to me."
She acted unaffected. "I wouldn't know. I've never engaged in a ménage of any sort."
"I can introduce you to one of my girlfriends…"
"Hah!" She tossed her curls out of her eyes. "Tell me, why is it that men, and even a lot of women, only go for the woman-man-woman combo? If I did decide to try a ménage a trois, I'd want two men at my beck and call."
Julian's brows inched upward. "Then I'll introduce you to one of my male friends…"
"Would you, really?"
He didn't hesitate. "No. I want you all to myself."
Pleasure unfurled inside her. "There's that ego again."
"Yes. When it comes to certain things…" his gaze coasted down and then up her body on a lazy return trip "…I'm greedy."
She felt the look in a visceral way. A fine tension tugged inside her, tightening in sync with his leisurely examination, producing an arousal that sent hot shards prickling through her veins.
"Greedy," she said, "but still wanting." And she turned away from him, helplessly brushing a hand over the back of her shirt. More than almost anything, she wanted to put on a pair of shorts, but she couldn't do it while he was watching. He'd know that he'd gotten to her. She didn't want him to realize that she was annoyed because he'd made her aware of her body in a way that she never was while working.
The trio emerged from the bath, taking over the studio with their energetic antics. Stefan had already departed with his girlfriend, Leslie, a low-level model who did a lot of catalog work and filled in her schedule with arty experimental jobs like Mia's. Stefan was an underemployed artist who'd rather guard Leslie than hustle for his own jobs.
Mia passed out goodbye hugs and pay envelopes containing hard cash, then shooed the group out the door. Often posing sessions became lazy all-day affairs with cheap wine and lots of fun talk. Today, she needed to be businesslike. There were plans to finalize with Cress regarding the actual shoot next week. And, well, Julian's presence was a damper, even for her most offbeat friends.
"They're not typical models," he said after she'd closed the door. "Are they professionals?"
Mia glanced at Cress. He was working on her computer, loading shots from a digital camera so they could play with the images. She had to handle Julian on her own. Both of them bare-legged and daubed with paint. How surreal.
"Leslie and Cherie are, and Sue was one when she was young, but now she's a writer. Maurizio is an actor."
"A personal trainer," Cress said without turning away from the computer.
"Actor hyphen personal trainer," Mia amended. "Fred is…"
"A hairless freak of nature," said Cress, nodding his own bald head. "Like owner, like Mrs. Snookums."
Mia pooh-poohed him. "Fred is just a guy I know. He sort of latched on to me, so I decided it was easier to keep him than get rid of him. He grew on me."
"Like mo
ld on Cheddar," Cress said automatically.
She shook her head, accustomed to the sarcasm between Cress and Fred. "They're all my friends. They work for free when I need them, but I pay if I can."
"Strange lot," Julian said.
"Maybe to you. Not to me."
He smiled. "Makes sense. You're strange, too."
"Said the man without pants." Her face was warm. Consciously, she dialed back her emotions so Julian wouldn't start thinking that he'd caused them. She was an emotional person, that was all. She tried to be sarcastic and tough, but anyone who knew her for long realized that she wore her heart on her sleeve. Which was why she ended up keeping people like Fred, delivering dinners to Miss Delaney downstairs and bringing blankets and 800 numbers to the teenage runaways who roamed the streets around the Port Authority.
"My participation was all your doing," Julian said. He seemed intent on getting her riled up.
"What about Cress?" she asked. "Do you approve of him?"
"What's not to?" Cress murmured. "I'm a model citizen."
Julian straightened his tie. "Sure, I approve. He's almost normal."
"Normal." Mia shuddered. "Did you hear that, Cress? You're normal."
"Almost."
"Is there something wrong with normal?" asked Julian.
"It's not my goal in life." She started tidying up the photo set. "You'd better get back into your pants before someone mistakes you for being one of us."
"I have to clean up first."
She waved at the shower room. "It's all yours."
"I need a buddy, like the other models. What if I accidentally wander into the deep end?"
She suppressed a smile. "Cress will go with you."
"But it's you who needs washing." Julian blinked at her legs. "I'll do you, if you do me."
A lump as big as a fist formed in her throat, blocking her air. She inhaled, almost wheezing. He'd do her? Oh, yeah. He'd do her up right!
Cress swiveled in the desk chair. His sunglasses fell off his head and clattered on the wood floor. He didn't even pick them up.
"I can do myself," she managed to say.
"Plug-in or battery-operated?" Julian replied, and Cress laughed so hard it was possible he'd choke before she did it for him.
Her face had gone from warm to red-hot. "Just shut up, both of you," she mumbled, her clamped tips twitching. A snort of laughter flew out her nose.
"I'll be in here, if you need me." Julian disappeared into the bathing area. She watched his shadow through the glass before he moved farther into the room, wondering if he would only wash the paint off his legs or if he planned to strip and shower…
Cress got up and handed her the digital camera. "You know what they say. Take a picture, it'll last longer."
She held a finger over her lips. "Shh."
He put his mouth near her ear. "You know you want to join him. Should I leave?"
"God, no!" She gripped her friend's arm.
Behind the frosted glass, Julian's wavery silhouette had reappeared, frozen in a listening posture.
"Stay," Mia said under her breath. "I need a buffer."
"You mean a cock block." Cress pried her fingers off his arm. "Sorry. Can't do it. That's sorority sister territory. There's a law among men that we don't run interference for the other side."
Her voice rose. "Be a friend."
"This is me," Cress said as he grabbed his jacket off the back of the desk chair, "being a friend. You just don't realize it yet."
Part of her wanted to hang off his legs to keep him with her. The other part was listening to the sound of rushing water, watching as the shadow Julian took off his shirt, and wondering if his chest was as hairy as his legs. She liked smooth skin for her work, but there was something cuddly about a furry man.
She licked her lips. Once more, with meaning. "Please, Cress. I beg of you. Don't put me at his mercy."
Cress rolled his eyes. "Spare me the dramatics, sugar."
She caved and started to laugh at herself. "Okay, okay. You're right. No big deal. I'll tell him no, thank you, and then he can leave."
"Or you can go the other way. How long has it been since you've had sex?"
She counted back as she followed Cress to the door. "Not that long. About three months."
"That's not long? I couldn't last three weeks."
"You're a man. A walking hormone kind of man. You couldn't last three days."
"I had a long weekend once at a family reunion in Vermont that was hell on earth. Every woman there was related to me. And most of them were packing butt cheeks the size of canned hams."
"Nearly four months," Mia said, remembering. "After Matthew, my libido went into hibernation." It had been a long, hot summer with her friendly BOB—battery-operated boyfriend. Energizer was her brand of choice, but she'd never tell Julian that.
"Matthew was the one with the body fluid phobia," Cress remembered.
She nodded. Matthew had been a nice guy, but too neurotic. By the end of the affair, having sex with him had been like going to the dentist, what with all the sterilizing mouthwashes and dental dams. Even early on, there hadn't been even one moment where she'd felt as alive and aroused as she did with Julian.
"Then you've got to take advantage of this situation." Cress moved into the hall. "There's a man you really like in your shower, Mia. Go on. You deserve a little fun."
"I already told him no."
"Change your mind. Woman's prerogative."
"I called him Bachelor Seventeen!"
"So what? He liked that." Cress started down the stairs.
"It could get complicated," Mia threw out and then regretted it. She was practically whining. Ugh. The lesson to always put others' needs before her own had been pounded into her as a child. She'd tried to overcome that training and become a hedonist instead, but sometimes she slipped. Poor needy Matthew was a case in point.
Julian would be a total indulgence. All for herself. No redeeming virtues, just pure pleasure.
Cress kept going. She leaned on the jamb, listened to the creaking treads and decided that she needed a female best friend, not a male who didn't even try to understand the complicated feelings that sex aroused in a woman. Even so-bad-for-you-it-was-too-good-to-pass-up Bachelor Seventeen sex.
She could go to Julian and pretend that she was content with a fling, but it'd never work. Maybe for him, but not for her.
Nope. The only way to get rid of him for good was to convince him that she was not interested. Definitely not interested.
Julian had never washed as slowly as he did while waiting for Mia's desire to overcome her reservations. He hadn't expected that to take so long.
Mia appeared to be fairly unaware of her effect on men. And yet she was one of the most sensuous women he'd ever met. She was sexier with bare feet, paint-splotched legs and tousled hair than other women were in a thousand dollars' worth of designer underwear.
She had doubts about his sincerity. And who could blame her, a nagging internal voice said. Even so, if he bided his time, her innate sexuality would take over. She'd succumb to their mutual attraction.
He was almost sure of it.
He'd started washing down his second leg before a shadow moved outside the door. Mia peeped inside. "So you found the washcloths?"
"I went into the cupboard. Your friends left a pile of wet cloths on the bottom of the shower stall."
"They're slobs." She sounded distracted. And she wasn't looking at him.
He watched her in the steamy mirror as she bounced glances off the white walls and stainless-steel freestanding sinks when they both knew what—who—she really wanted to look at. She was a funny mix of bold and bashful.
"Where are you from?"
"From?" she said, surprised into looking directly at him. "Right here. City born and bred. Why?"
"You're different than other women. I can't get a handle on you."
"You mean you can't put me into a box."
"That might be it." Julian
propped his leg on the wall of the spacious mosaic-tiled shower stall. It was almost a room. Considering the modest size of the apartment, a bathroom of such capaciousness seemed like a needless extravagance.
Not that he'd object. It was too easy to imagine a naked Mia looking over her shoulder as she stood poised with her hands braced on the tiled wall and her squeezeable, outthrust ass rising from the clouds of steam. He would take hold and sink himself between those voluptuous cheeks…
Inside the cotton boxer-briefs Mia had commented on, his groin felt heavy and full. Damn. He had to stop these erotic visions.
Or fulfill them.
"I hate boxes," she said.
Boxes, not boxers. Use the big head.
All right—focus. He had hated boxes, too. At one time. Now he lived his life in them. Apartments, offices, elevators, in-and-out boxes, magazine pages where space was measured in precise centimeters.
Julian squeezed a sponge to sluice water over his leg, diluting the paint. There wasn't a straight angle in Mia's place—except for the shower stall.
He looked up, catching her staring at him, the hard sparkle in her blue-green eyes a contrast to the curl of her lashes, her soft rounded cheeks and ripe red lips. He swallowed, looked away—suddenly almost as unsure as she. Strange.
"Why such a large shower?" he asked.
"You saw why. Body painting requires lots of soap and water, and it usually seems that everyone's washing off at once."
"Then you built this?"
She nodded. "My landlord okayed the renovations and gave me a long lease for my trouble."
There were four showerheads, including a rain pan overhead. To keep the spray at a minimum, he'd turned on only one of them. Even so, the longer he stood posing in the shower the wetter his shorts were getting.
Mia cleared her throat. "Um, if you don't hurry, the hot water will cut out."
"Then you'd better get over here, hmm?"
"No. I can wait."
"Come on. You're safe. Nothing will happen." That you don't want. "I'm only Bachelor Seventeen, after all. My powers aren't that strong."
"Yes, that's true," Mia said thoughtfully, irritating him until he realized that's what she was trying to do. She wasn't that good an actress.
TASTE ME Page 6
