Rufus let out a low whistle. “Uh-huh, cold shower, I bet.” He tapped a well-manicured, blue-tipped nail against his chin. “So when do I get to meet this hot stud-muffin of yours? He got any rough and grungy biker friends looking for a good time and a real man to ride?”
“Oh gawd, how sickening.” Doris spun on her sandaled heel and went back to shoot orders from her director’s seat.
“Hey, I’m really sorry. I want to get this day over with just as much as you do. I’ll try harder, I promise.”
“Sure, sweets. Believe me, I know how men can do that to you.” He lifted a thin shoulder. “Get under your skin and in your blood, it’s hard to shake ’em. Just relax, ignore The Ice Queen, and if you need anything, someone to talk to or whatever, let old Rufus know, you hear?” He winked and crossed back to the tripod. Readjusting the lens, he barked an order to angle the bounce lighting panel so that the sunlight blinded Britt. “Let’s roll!”
The crew scrambled into action.
Blinking away the spots in her eyes, Britt laid her head back lazy-like on the top of the wheel and turned her face toward the camera. She hooked her thumbs in the jeans pockets and set her booted heel against a spoke to draw up her knee. Thrusting out her chest, she located the lens and aperture hole that controlled the amount of lighting allowed inside, and fixed her gaze just above it. She knew the pose would emit sex appeal due to the snug sweater, jacket and skintight jeans, while her pursed lips lent her a pouty, almost innocent look. It would help sell the department store’s new fall line. The catalog would go out midsummer, just about the time finicky women yearned for relief from the heat and looked ahead to autumn.
Britt did her best to hide her discomfort, pleased when Rufus and Doris both nodded their approval. It was difficult to appear cool and sexy when the heat made her so dang dizzy. The overhead sun gave her the sense of being closed in an oven. She longed to strip off the stifling clothes and bare herself down to her perspiring skin.
Like she had done with Diego.
Just thinking about him, picturing that thick head of long hair and that face framed by her legs made her pussy ache. Wow, and that body. She moistened her lips, closed her eyes and cast her face to the sun. The warmth made her think of his heat, caused her limbs to move and her hips to sway just so for each pose.
“That’s it. Yeah, baby, you got it. Work it,” Rufus coaxed.
She heard the distant click of the shutter, blinked back the flash of lights, ignored the murmur of approving voices. In her mind, Diego’s scent filled the space around her, his muscles flexed beneath her palms, his strong body pummeled hers.
Britt sat on the ground, the wagon wheel behind her, and struck a playful, grinning pose. Again, praise and excitement from the crew. She glanced over and caught Doris’ smug nod and wondered what she’d think if Britt told Doris that her inspiration was the “lazy ruffian”.
But Britt had issues of her own with Diego, the reason she hadn’t called her home voicemail to check for messages since he’d taken her home three nights ago. She needed time, she decided, clamping a piece of straw between her teeth and sending the camera a smoldering look. She needed to decide if she wanted to get entangled between Diego and his ex, and share in all that emotion and rage she’d glimpsed that night.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to learn all the hidden truths, all that had caused the haunted look in his eyes and the anger in Carolyn’s. Had he cheated on Carolyn? Or maybe she’d cheated on him? Did he still love her, and was he using Britt until Carolyn came around? Or were there some tug-of-war issues going on regarding the child Diego refused to talk about? From the outside looking in, it appeared to be a very messy situation, and she probably didn’t even know the half of it. Did she really want to take the chance and complicate her life with all that drama?
She made a point not to furrow her brow when she again thought of Carolyn and her antagonism toward both Diego and Britt. Whore. The word stuck in her craw like a big fat thorn, even as she smiled for the camera. To think one of her first-ever experiences with all that kinkiness Diego gravitated toward, and now she’d been labeled a whore.
And then there was the violence of their last lovemaking session—the one she’d dubbed the “refrigerator fuck”—which now that she thought about it, had in fact underscored Carolyn’s snide comment. Despite the humiliation of her new rank, her mind flipped to a rerun of the scene. Her face warmed at the memory of it. Rufus cooed his approval and she moved fluid and graceful into the next pose.
She stood back up, her breathing quickening, and let her limbs flow and her eyes go dreamy, recalling the way Diego had taken her with brutal, almost sadistic power. Yet he hadn’t forced her to do anything she hadn’t wanted to participate in. True, he’d taken her by surprise, but even now the crotch of her panties wetted as she remembered how he’d yanked her clothes off in that dominant, haphazard manner that took her breath away. He’d slammed her against the humming refrigerator. His eyes had drilled into hers like the devil’s flames. There’d been a sort of desperation in them, tumultuous emotions she hadn’t wanted to decipher as he’d looked up at her while he fumbled with his pants.
Oh, but she could well remember what she had wanted—the sensation of his erection spearing her. It had made her fear she might faint with excitement when he’d burrowed deep inside her so that she’d almost orgasmed with that one blinding penetration. Ah, and her own weight and gravity had made him sink to depths no one had ever traversed before, not even him. The passion and intensity of the whole mating flurry had made her come alive, almost animal-like, and much more desirable than she’d ever known with any other man.
No, Diego wasn’t even close to any other man she’d ever slept with before. Diego embodied the collective meaning of extreme, wild, wicked and mysterious.
Yet he had a tender, thoughtful and sweet side, along with a tortured, emotional element that squeezed at her heart and held her enthralled.
Britt blew out a breath when Rufus called for a wrap of the shoot.
Her insides sizzled just thinking about Diego. If he were to emerge from the dilapidated barn behind her and start to seduce her, she just might allow it right here in front of the whole crew. Except for Doris of course. But Britt had gotten a charge out of having sex on his rear deck, that delicious thrill of someone chancing by and seeing them.
Well someone had, but Carolyn didn’t count. That didn’t turn Britt on at all to have a snarling, jealous ex-spouse watching her get fucked in the hot tub by Diego. But before that, before the mood had been broken, Britt had to admit she’d enjoyed the drugging buzz of almost getting caught or being watched, which was something she’d never dabbled in or even considered before Diego.
Ha. Maybe Carolyn was right. Only Britt didn’t charge for her “services”. She gave them freely. Which meant she was more a slut than a whore. She sighed, disgusted with her own self-recriminations. Even though she admitted to a sick sort of attraction to this dark lifestyle Diego had introduced her to, there were other serious matters to consider before allowing herself to take any more plunges.
Like getting herself involved in the Carolyn and phantom-boy situations.
She had to stop. Britt yanked off the jacket and crossed to her bag. She needed a break, to think, to decide if she had the desire and the time to get involved in someone else’s soap opera. Her life, though lonely and uneventful, had been cruising along just fine before she’d met Diego in the drugstore. Before Diego, Doris had been on her case to assure she continued to date men who would be good for her career, Lexi had taken to all her dates, there had been no ex-wives or children factored into any of her relationships and she’d been able to concentrate much better at work.
All that pre-Diego.
“Tomorrow we hit the Tampa studio for some indoor filler shots, guys, so be there at ten sharp,” Rufus announced. “And don’t go screwing off and missing your evening flight back to Tampa. I’ll see you all in the morning.”
Brit
t knelt and unzipped her bag. She fished her cell phone out while the team broke down and packed up the equipment. Makeup closed down and the other two models slinked over to wardrobe to change out of their bathing suits.
As usual, Doris hovered nearby with a watchful eye and her ears perked. Britt ignored her and pushed the Power button. She waited for the device to fire up, noting the message icon when the start-up screen cleared. Her stomach quivered. It had to be Diego. She’d opted not to answer each time she saw his name come up. She’d decided it was better that way—for now. It made it easier for them both to keep a distance during this strange stage of an even stranger relationship.
She ignored the self-irritation that hovered in the background of her mind and called her answering machine at home. Disappointment sank heavy in her abdomen when she listened to a couple of telemarketing messages, but nothing from Diego. There were several hang-ups, but she didn’t know how to check her caller ID from here. Resigned to waiting until she returned home later in the evening, she called the voicemail on her cell.
Two messages. Butterflies fluttered in her gut.
The first one from Lexi had come in earlier in the afternoon. It proved to be a long, rambling one that made Britt grin and her heart trip over her ribs.
“Look, I know you’re busy all the way down there on location at some freaking orange farm or whatever, but would you call me as soon as you can get a signal and tear your hot ass away from the cameras? It’s about that prick, Diego. I swear, if that bastard comes into the store one more time demanding to know where you are, I’m gonna call the damn cops. Wowza, you picked a real winner this time.”
Lexi blew out a long, weary breath. “Okay, okay, so I’ll admit the guy’s hot, but geez, as soon as he opens his fucking smart-assed mouth and drills me with those devil eyes, I’m all creeped out. It’s like, shit, does he have the mafia on my tail, or what? Feels like I’m gonna get whacked any minute. Please, puh-leeze call me ASAP, would you, Britty? Before I lose my shittin’ job—and my freaking mind?”
Britt punched buttons to get to the second message.
Please be Diego, please…
But it was Lexi again, moments ago, her tone much less upbeat than the earlier one.
“Britt, I uh…can you please call me? There’s something I need to tell you. Something you’re not going to like. It’s very important.” The message ended with a resounding click.
Chapter Eleven
Doris opened the car door and climbed into the passenger seat. In her usual prim manner, she clicked her seat belt in place, popped open her briefcase on her lap and set it up in desk fashion. She flipped through her organizer, pressed her cell phone on. It played a cheery tune as it loaded.
“I bet that call you got was either from that potty-mouthed Lexi, or that biker.” Doris pecked at the screen, her cheater glasses perched on the end of her nose.
Britt jammed the key into the ignition, turned over the engine and set the air conditioner to blasting. She was dying to call Lexi, but she had to get rid of this energy-sucking leech first.
Doris.
She threw her arm over the seat, backed out of the gravel drive and onto the blacktop county road. “Please, I’m not in the mood.”
Gawd, I need to look for a new agent.
“But Britt, I am sick to death of—” Her iPhone rang in her hand, startling her. She tapped the keys with a rusty-tipped fake fingernail.
Saved by the blessed bell.
“Hello, Agent Doris Sterns speaking.” She smiled, nodded. “Yes, yes, hello, Colleen. I’m so glad you called. So, were you able to get the deal approved? Did the attorneys—” She blinked, sitting silent for a long moment. The chatter of the voice on the other end of the phone grew loud enough for Britt to hear, but she couldn’t make out what held Doris’ stunned attention.
A strangled growl escaped Doris’ throat. “What? No.” Her hand fluttered up, trembled, covered her gaping mouth. “Are…are you sure?”
The heavy weight of dread closed around Britt. She knew that look, recognized the appalled astonishment, which would soon be followed by a ranting rage. Colleen was the Victoria’s Secret contact whom Doris had been in negotiations with on Britt’s behalf. She couldn’t imagine what sort of demands on the other end of the line could be causing Doris’ free hand to fist and the knuckles to whiten.
“It can’t be. There must be some mistake.”
Another pause followed by incessant chatter.
“Please, please, Colleen, give me a few days. I-I’ll look into it, you have my word on that. One way or another, we’ll get this all straightened out, you’ll see.” Britt identified the tone of desperation, one thin layer coating the temper that simmered below it. Doris laughed, her voice hollow. “It’s most likely nothing more than a false, slanderous attempt by one of my agent competitors to edge Britt out of the running.”
Crap. What in the world was going on?
“Yes, yes, thanks so much for your call. I’ll be in touch soon.”
Doris punched the Disconnect button. She winged the phone at the dashboard. “Unbelievable.”
Britt flinched when it smacked the windshield then clunked against an air vent as it fell to the floor. “Doris, that is—”
“Don’t Doris me.” Her white veneers clenched, making the muscle in her jaw bulge. Her venomous eyes glittered with revulsion. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done now?”
Dismayed at the personal attack, Britt pulled over and jammed the gearshift into park. “No. But it might help if you’d just tell me instead of throwing your temper around. Just know I will not pay for any of your rental-car damages.”
“Damages? Did you say damages?” Doris shrieked. “That little windshield scratch is nothing compared to how much damage—and money—you’ve cost me with your latest antics.”
“Don’t have a clue what you’re screaming about.”
“Really? Do nasty pictures ring a bell?”
Britt’s vision wobbled. She did her best to keep her expression calm and unmoved, but shock had a stubborn way of making her eyes go wide and her mouth gape. Pictures? She couldn’t possibly be referring to those pictures. No, it couldn’t be. She’d burned them herself.
“How could you?” Doris stomped the floorboard.
“I-I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well, I’ll tell you then.” Her tone snapped whip-like, her livid gaze not far behind. “It seems Victoria’s got wind of some photos that just released in this week’s issue of some filthy publication called Leather & Lace something-or-other. An amateur’s contest for fifty-thousand dollars.”
Britt’s palms sweated so much they slipped from the wheel. Her stomach lurched. She was going to throw up. “No. No.”
Lexi’s second message…had it been about this situation? She’d sounded worried, almost scared. Please, no.
Britt fisted her hands. If so, she would kill Lexi. Kill her.
“Yes, a woman in all sorts of tawdry poses,” Doris hissed. “They said her face was concealed, but they had reason to believe it was you. Tell me it’s a mistake. Tell me it isn’t you. Goddamn it, Britt, tell me it’s not you in those pictures all tied up and half naked for the whole stinking country to see!”
“It’s not me. It can’t be.”
“Really? Well, I had the same response at first. But then she mentioned a mole.”
Britt’s pulse leaped, choking her. “A mole?” she croaked.
Doris’ dark eyebrows winged up as if she scolded a small child. “Don’t you have a heart-shaped mole on your hip?”
Oh god. “A mole on my hip?”
“I distinctly recall you mentioning you’d like to have it removed a few months back. I ordered you not to, as further damage to your skin could mar your beauty and cost you future modeling jobs. Besides, I think I remember seeing it in a few of your portfolio shots. It’s you in the pictures, isn’t it?”
Remember, if it is you in those pictures, your face isn’t showing in
them. They can’t positively identify you. Don’t give away a thing to her.
“No. There must be some mistake. I-I would never submit pictures to a magazine for the whole world to see.”
But Lexi would for me, for us both…for the money. Even if I’d changed my mind.
Doris held her gaze. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she half lied.
Convinced, perhaps more because she wanted the tale to be false, Doris snatched up her phone from the floor, tossed it into the briefcase and slammed it shut. “Then take me back to the hotel. I have work to do to get this deal repaired and rolling again. I’ll have to miss our flight, but it’ll be worth it. This is just too much money to let it slide by.”
“Okay, sure.” Britt merged back onto the road. “I’m going to get an earlier flight back. Is that all right? I’ll be there in time for the shoot in Tampa tomorrow.”
She waved a hand. “Sure. Go on back to your friends. I’ll fix this just like always.”
Britt didn’t take the bait. She held her tongue, drove straight to the hotel and dropped Doris off without a word. Next she sped away and located a sleazy porn and sex-toy shop. She donned her sunglasses as a wall to hide behind in case someone recognized her from the contest, bought the new issue of Leather & Lace Magazine and got back in her car. As she settled in, she chucked the depraved publication onto the passenger’s seat as if it had bitten her. Eyeing it, she drove back to the hotel. The urge to pull over and barf overwhelmed her. She sensed she wasn’t going to like what she found between the pages of that crude magazine.
That’d teach her to listen to her best friend.
Prior best friend.
Lexi’s pleading words of a week or so ago echoed through Britt’s mind as she drove. “I’ll hide your face in all the shots. No one’ll ever know it’s you. And just think. If we win the contest, that’s twenty-five thousand dollars apiece.” She’d jiggled her eyebrows. “That means a new wardrobe for you, and a new condo right on the beach. And for me, my own photography shop.”
Pretty in Kink Page 16
