We agreed to keep our break-up out of the media. It’s not like we needed to release a statement to the press. We weren’t married, but twenty months together felt like years—wonderfully happy years.
My publicist urged me to leak our break-up to the tabloids. She tried to convince me that it would be beneficial to the launch of my site. My moral compass had the better of me, and I absolutely refused.
Who knew that decision would turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life?
“SHE DID WHAT?” MY words screeched, vibrating back through the speakers in my car. I couldn’t hear a fucking thing except for my own words ricocheting through the Bluetooth.
“This morning, Heather went on Wake Up with Stacy telling the whole world how you made her go to rehab.” Haven’s voice rang out once more enunciating the words with flair.
“I did make her go to rehab. This is not news.”
“No, not like that Grady, she went on to say that you told her going to rehab would revitalize her career. Telling her that she wasn’t a good actress and this was the only way to get her back in the media spotlight.”
Shit. Fucking shit.
I slammed my hand against the steering wheel as I pulled onto the main drag in the middle of town. How anyone would believe a shred of truth to Heather’s story was beyond my comprehension. Heather and her goddamn publicity stunts.
“It’s all lies and total bullshit. No one is going to believe Heather. Her past is littered with fabrications. She’s not exactly a stable source.”
“There’s more . . .”
“More? How can there be more?”
“Heather said outright that you were emotionally and mentally abusive.”
“Oh fuck that shit!” Rage coursed through my veins.
Haven exhaled a long sigh. “I’m sorry, Grady, the press is having a field day with this one. She actually started crying on cue, I guess her acting skills were on point this morning.”
I had loved Heather so much that I made her go to rehab for her wellbeing, because I wanted her to be around for a long time. At the time, she was spiraling out of control with pills and booze. The fucked-up part about all of it, is that Heather was a good actress. Not only that but she wrote poetry and had a lovely singing voice. Sometimes she would go down to the Jazz Bar in Los Angeles in disguise and sing during one of their open mic nights. When I could, I’d sit in the back, drinking a beer and just listening to her while she performed.
She has real talent.
“Do you have a plan, Haven?”
“If there is one thing I know about Heather Young it’s that she loves the spotlight. I don’t think you should say anything. We could refute her lies, but we all know that she is just looking for attention. Instead, I think this is a case where your actions speak louder than her words.”
I let Haven’s words roll around my brain, because everything inside me wanted to call Heather and give her a piece of my mind. No good would come from that conversation. Knowing Heather, she would record the call and then leak it to TMZ, giving the public her version of my “angry” side.
I needed to pour my emotions into something positive.
“Send me a list of events happening with my favorite charities. I’d like to do some volunteer work.”
“I’m on it, boss,” she replied. “And don’t sweat this situation. You’re going to nail that call out today and then we can turn our focus to something positive.”
“Thanks, Haven.” I killed the call and Rebel Desire’s latest single blasted through the speakers. If I didn’t have this call out, I’d keep driving. If I had my way, I’d be on a boat or my board surfing those waves.
Okay, time to put the Heather situation on the backburner and focus on the task at hand. I didn’t need the money, but this campaign would set me up for a lot of good things, especially financially. Plus, I could essentially take the entire summer off if I landed this job.
“CALL OUTS ARE MY favorite,” Afton squealed, before taking a drink of her iced tea. “I can’t wait to see these hotties in person.”
I rolled my eyes. “Hey, President Pervy, here’s an idea, how about not treating the models like pieces of meat?”
She pursed her lips together. “You’re no fun.”
“I’m about to bring some of my super awesome ‘bursting with fruit flavor’ fun to this Instagram account of yours so send in the models.”
“We’ve got about fifteen minutes,” Afton replied, shuffling through the folders splayed in front of her. “Today, I am looking for someone who will capture the confidence of a refined but rebellious spirit. A man with a natural, alluring masculinity, and an effortless sense of style.”
“Aren’t we all,” I chided, pushing up from the chair. “I’m going to get a bottle of water. You need anything?”
Afton leaned across the table to tap the intercom. “I can have Kayla bring you anything you need.”
“No, no,” I said, standing. “I’ll go to the executive break room and grab one. Besides, I need to stretch my legs.”
It was a short walk to the executive breakroom. The lobby outside the conference room where they were holding the call out was starting to fill up with pretty faces. I recognized a few faces, a lot of new faces. I remembered my first casting call like it was yesterday. It was hard not to stress over what to wear to the audition. My biggest fear was that I’d forget the photographer’s names that shot the pictures in my book if the casting director asked.
I pulled a bottle of San Pellegrino from the refrigerator and then grabbed a bag of almonds from the pantry. Sagging against the hallway wall, I swiped my phone and glanced through my messages, I had about ten from Haven.
“Excuse me, are you here for the model call?” I heard a deep voice ask from behind me.
I turned around to see a face that I was all too familiar with thanks to magazine covers, television and billboards.
Grady James had a picture-perfect face—luscious lips, a strong jaw with just the right amount of stubble. Let’s not discount his dreamy blue eyes and his long brown hair that fell perfectly over his brow. A human God chiseled from marble and sculpted masterfully, standing in front of me wearing a grey t-shirt and dark denim oozing James Dean cool attitude.
Dayum. So much for taking my own advice, I just objectified him seven ways to Sunday.
“I can’t find the receptionist,” he said glancing up from his phone. “Hey . . . Harlow, it’s good to see you.”
Shaking the lustful thoughts from my mind, I refocused. “No, I’m not here for the model call. Do you use that line on every woman you meet?”
With a laugh, he stepped forward giving me a warm embrace. “No, I’m genuinely lost,” he admitted, releasing me from his hold. “Plus, I think Haven gave me the wrong room number.”
When he pinned his blue eyes on me, and I could see he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. His complexion was pale and his skin was visibly ashy. Despite looking a little out of sorts, he still managed to take my breath away, but this simply wouldn’t do.
He cocked a brow, drawing my focus back to his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Pivoting on my heel, I tossed over my shoulder, “Come with me.”
He strode up beside me. “Thanks.”
“Are you sure that you’re a model?”
“Been in the business since I was twenty-two, I’m sure.”
“Why didn’t you bring your A-game today, then?” I challenged.
Sighing he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I know, I know. I think I drank too much last night.”
“That’s a big no-no, and I suppose that you had a ton of caffeine this morning and not enough water. If I was betting woman, and I am, I bet you also had a greasy breakfast.”
He held up his hands. “Guilty as charged.”
We turned the corner and walked into one of Buchanan’s spa treatment rooms. Glancing at my watch I knew that I had at least twelve minutes to get Grady ready for his audition.
>
“What are we doing in here?” he asked, shoving his phone into his pocket.
“I’m saving your ass, park it in that chair.” I pointed to the makeup chair and then handed him my bottle of mineral water. “Drink up, all of it.”
“I never knew that you were this bossy,” he said as he twisted off the cap.
“You call it bossy, I call it being assertive,” I replied, sifting through the stash of samples. I needed a brightening serum and eye-cream.
“Touché,” he said, before tossing back a drink. “So, if you’re not here for the call out, what are you doing?”
Would Grady like the short version or the long version that included my heartbreak and homeless situation? He didn’t need to hear my drama. I guessed that he had enough of his own problems from the way he looked walking in here today.
“Afton, she’s the President of the company . . . we were college roommates, anyway, she asked me to take over their Instagram account today for behind the scenes exclusives.”
I found a sample of brightening cleanser, and the directions said that it could be left on up to ten minutes. As much as I wished I could put a redefining mask on his skin, this would have to suffice. “Step over to the sink, I need you to use this cleanser and leave it on your face for at least five minutes.”
His fingers laced over mine when he reached for the bottle. Grady’s hand was warm and his fingertips were rougher than I expected. What I didn’t expect was a zap of electricity shooting over my skin.
My eyes met his, the man had intense blue eyes and his brow game was strong. He held my gaze, and nodded to the bottle that I was still holding onto. “Oh . . . sorry,” I stammered, shaking my head. Sidestepping him, I turned on the faucet and pulled a towel from the bin.
What the fuck was that? It’s been a few weeks since I’ve had the touch of a man and this was my reaction? He must have picked up on my needy desperation.
“This stuff smells awesome,” he said, pumping the cleanser into his hand.
“Yeah, it’s one of my favorite products,” I admitted, picking up the bottle and then twisting the cap. “It’s going to clear out your pores and extract those dead skin cells. You won’t believe how this stuff brightens up your skin.”
“Thank you for your help, I don’t want to fuck this up.” He blew out a deep breath and dropped into the chair. “Honestly, I forgot I had this call out today. My agent sent me a text while I was having breakfast. I’m afraid I’ve been off my A-game for a while, far too long.”
My fingers ached to reach out and touch him. Anything to feel the rush of tingles again, I’d love to run the back of my hand down his cheek to that sexy five o’clock shadow. That jawline could have its fucking way with me.
Wow. Okay, enough, Harlow.
“We all have our off days,” I offered, giving nothing more. My belief was that silence was better than bullshit. However, this was a special case, and all of us do have off days, so not total bullshit. I didn’t want to pry into his personal business, but I had a feeling that Grady was referring to his very public divorce. There were accusations of cheating on both sides that was about as much as I knew thanks to a copy of US Weekly in the gym. Not entirely credible journalism.
Pivot. Subtle topic shift needed now. Otherwise I would feel compelled to commiserate with him.
“What did you have for breakfast?”
He furrowed his brow. “Huh?”
“You said your agent reminded you about today over breakfast. What did you have?”
He smiled that slow heart stopping smile again. “Pancakes . . . a short stack with blueberries and a little bit of whipped cream and a side of maple brown sausage over at Nancy’s Diner.”
“Best French toast on the coast,” I said, grabbing a bag of cotton balls. “Man, I love that place, I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance to go there since I’ve been back.”
I busied myself with the self-appointed task of restocking the makeup stations with sponges, cotton balls and mascara wands.
“Oh yeah, you’ve been living in England, but now you’re back?”
I exhaled a sharp breath. “Yeah, I’ve got a new website to launch and some other projects going on, so moving back to the States made sense.”
Little white lies.
“Can I take this stuff off yet?” he asked, running his thumb along his jawline.
“Yeah, rinse and then pat your skin dry.”
I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want this moment to last a little while longer. Besides the fact that Grady James was easy on the eyes, the conversation was easy. It was always nice talking to someone who was in the business. In a way, it made me feel normal. If being famous could be considered normal.
Looking at me in the mirror, he smiled. “Do you have any inside tips on what they’re looking for today?”
Resting my hip against the counter, I watched as Grady washed his face. “You don’t need my help for that. I know for a fact that you’ve been to thousands of these things.”
I was certain there were very few things that Grady needed help with, and I could only assume that he excelled naturally at everything.
“Next, I’m going to have you apply a vitamin C serum and then an all-day moisturizer.” I popped the cap off the bottle placing it beside the sink. Then I had him apply the moisturizer. Once he finished, I tidied up the vanity area wiping down the faucet and the counter top.
“Why haven’t you and I ever worked together before?” he asked giving me that famous pretty boy smile of his. “I mean we have the same publicist, so you’d think Haven would have tried to get us together at one point.”
The meaning of his words, they were laced with innuendo, but I knew better than to make that assumption.
I lifted a shoulder. “Maybe there hasn’t been a project she thought that suited us both.”
“Hmm.” He cocked a brow, and sidestepped to stand in the doorway. “I’m not convinced.”
“The Sage Conference Room is where you need to be for the call,” I replied, switching off the lights.
“Thanks again, Harlow,” he called over his shoulder. “You saved my ass.”
AS I SAT IN the hallway outside the conference room my fingers itched to swipe open my phone and read what the tabloids were saying about me and Heather. It was driving me crazy and I don’t know why I should care, I never allowed these things to bother me before, not even after our divorce.
Two of the models sitting across from me kept whispering and pointing to their phones. I rubbed my palms over my thighs. The urge to ask them what they found so interesting was strong. I needed a distraction like a book or a magazine to read.
The door to the conference room opened and a young brunette appeared. “Grady and India, they’re ready for you both.”
As India and I strolled through the doors, I saw Harlow standing off to the side near the photographer.
“Hey there, good to see you again, India,” the woman with brunette hair called from behind the table. “I’m Afton Buchanan, so nice to meet you in person, Grady.”
From the corner of my eye, I caught Harlow’s head lift in my direction. At the sound of my name, she smiled giving me a subtle thumbs up. Somehow having her in here made me feel less on edge.
“Likewise, Ms. Buchanan.”
After a round of rapid fire questions from the panel, the casting director ushered India and me over to the photographer. The photographer introduced herself as Alice and then instructed us on what she was looking to capture. We took a few test shots. Something was off between the two of us. It was probably on my part.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” India whispered in my ear.
I pulled back from our embrace. “What?”
“Are you hot?”
I shook my head. “Do you need water?”
“I feel dizzy. . . I can’t tell if it’s just nerves or something more.” India’s hands trembled as she gripped my forearm for support.
“Can we take a b
reak? India isn’t feeling . . .” She went limp in my arms before I got the last word out. Shit.
India was still conscious, mumbling broken syllables. I lowered the two of us to the floor, dragging her back against my chest. Harlow and the photographer rushed towards us. My bet was that she didn’t eat breakfast or worse that she had been starving herself for this audition.
“Here’s a bottle of water,” Kayla offered.
“It’s okay, India, everything will be just fine,” I reassured. My hands gripped her shoulders as she struggled to lift the bottle to her lips. After a few minutes, India was focused, but still hazy. The director asked her if she thought she could continue with the session and she politely declined. I helped India to her feet, and Kayla escorted her out the door to the seating area.
“That was scary,” I admitted to Harlow.
She nodded in agreement. “All the color drained from her face, she looked like a ghost.”
“I’d like to get a few more shots with Grady,” Afton announced. “Harlow, do me a favor and stand in with Grady.”
“What?” she asked.
“I need a female figure. You’re a model and the same height as India. It will be painless, I promise.”
We took our marks, and I wrapped my arm around Harlow’s waist pulling her against me. A warm, sweet fragrance curled around me, I inhaled deeply getting my fill of honey and peach. Taking direction from Alice like a pro, Harlow’s hazel eyes landed on mine.
Fuck. She was insanely gorgeous. Surely, I’d noticed this before. As we changed up our positions, I thought back to all times I’d had encounters with Harlow.
“Great job, you two. I’m getting some great stuff here. Have you ever worked together before?”
“No,” Harlow spoke up as her eyes met mine.
“Well, you should because you two have sensational chemistry,” Alice said, placing the camera onto the table.
A dark blush spread across Harlow’s cheeks as she stepped back from our embrace. “It’s probably because we’ve known each other for a few years.”
Healed by You Page 3
