Locking Lips (Kiss Talent Agency Book 2)
Page 9
But how could she know about Heather and me?
* * *
It’s been three days, and I’ve heard nothing from Heather. This makes me think she wants to do retakes but doesn’t want to tell me. Or, she doesn’t want to do retakes because she doesn’t want to see me again.
Then I get annoyed with myself for sounding like some love-struck teenage girl that I push all thoughts of Heather from my mind as hard as I can. Heather is not my problem. If she wants to complicate her life unnecessarily, fine. I get paid regardless.
But by the fourth day, I’ve lost patience. I call her while I drive to my morning meeting, telling myself I need to know what’s happening so I can tell my agent, and he can schedule accordingly. When her phone rings three times, I’m about to toss my phone out the window when I hear her voice, “Caleb?”
I shouldn’t feel this much happiness at hearing her voice. As a result, my response is gruffer than I intended, “Good, you’re not dead.”
Silence. Then, “No, not last I checked. Is that all you wanted?”
“Ha ha, very funny. I wanted to know if you’ve decided yet about the retakes. My agent is breathing down my neck about scheduling other clients.” That’s not precisely true, but I’m not about to tell Heather that.
She sighs. “I’ve been thinking about it since we, er, last met.” I can practically see her blushing, and I’m stupidly pleased by this. I take the next exit, maneuvering around a UPS truck that’s stopped almost in the middle of the street. “I’d like to go forward with the retakes.”
I grimace. Although this gives me a chance to see her again, I also still hate the thought of having to redo my own work. But I force myself to say, “Okay, I can do that.” I can’t help but add, “You see? It’s not hard to compromise, you know.”
“I’m not sure how doing your job is compromising, but if that lets you sleep at night...”
“Oh, sweetheart, I sleep just fine at night, dreaming about your beautiful breasts and how you moan my name when I’m inside you.” I hear her inhale, which makes me smile. I park my car at my destination, but I don’t get out, as my next meeting isn’t for another fifteen minutes. Besides, any chance to needle Heather is one I want to take. “How have you been sleeping? Do you dream of me, sweetheart?”
She snorts. “You wish. The only thing I dream about is never seeing you again.”
“I doubt that. You practically begged me to fuck you again, right in your store. That’s not a woman who didn’t enjoy herself.”
“Do you know what an arrogant pain in the ass you are?”
“So some people tell me. But considering how many orgasms I’ve given you—how many has it been? three? four?—I wouldn’t recommend complaining.”
“Did you call me just to sexually harass me?”
She sounds so annoyed that I laugh. “Only partially. I wanted to tell you that if we’re going to do retakes—which it sounds like we are—that I would recommend merging our ideas this time. Although I’m not a huge fan of your original vision, I can also allow that perhaps I went overboard with my ideas at the first shoot.”
I hear a tapping sound; most likely Heather is tapping her pen against her desk. “So you think we should—what did you say earlier?—compromise?”
“Something like that.”
“And what happens when you decide you don’t like it again? Do you bulldoze over me and do what you want?”
I tsk. “Oh ye of little faith! The last thing I want to do is to redo this a third time. And at the end of the day, they’re your designs, not mine. I’m just the photographer.”
She snorts again. “I highly doubt you’ve ever considered yourself as ‘just the photographer.’ If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were lying and planning some way to get back at me instead.”
I must admit, it’s kind of a low blow. I’ve been stubborn and I’ve wanted to shake Heather until her teeth rattled, but I have my honor, dammit.
“Do you really think I’d be that big of an asshole? Give me some credit, sweetheart.”
“Who was the one who didn’t tell me his identity? I don’t think I’m completely out of line here.”
I grit my teeth. “That was a misunderstanding. Not a lie. How long are you going to hold that over my head?”
“As long as I want to.” She pauses, and I can hear the wheels turning in that brain of hers. “Okay, fine. I think I can work with this.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific, sweetheart.”
“Let me talk to Rebecca, and we’ll get another shoot set up. I know it’s not what you want, but I think that at the end of the day, we’ll all be happier. Better to make sure everything’s just right, even if people get mad, right?”
I’m not so sure about that, and I’m still convinced Heather is just scared of thinking outside the box, but I don’t feel like arguing the point right now. I know she’s going to do what she wants to do, and that is that. And if I were being honest with myself, I’d admit that getting one last chance to see her again is worth the aggravation of retaking these photos.
“Good, I’m glad you’ve agreed,” I say as I finally get out of the car. “I’ll send you an email detailing what I meant by merging our ideas, and you can let me know when the next shoot is scheduled. Does that work for you?”
“You’re so cute when you’re mad, you know that?”
I can’t help it: I laugh. “And if you were standing here, I’d take you over my knee and spank that beautiful ass of yours for being such a giant pain in my ass.”
“Go to hell, Caleb,” she says, but without any real rancor.
I laugh again. “Already there, sweetheart,” I say before she hangs up.
Chapter Fifteen
Heather
The bell at the front door of my store jingles, and when I look up, a gorgeous blond woman waltzes in. This isn’t new for me—this is LA, of course—and I greet her like I would anyone else.
“Welcome to Talina,” I say. The woman has a large bag that seems to have something moving inside it. What is it with these women and their tiny dogs? “May I help you find something?”
The woman gives me a onceover, disdain apparent in her perfect features. Then again, her face could just be like that permanently, given all of the obvious plastic surgery she’s had done. I shrug when she turns away. I’m not about to let some blond snob ruin my day because she thinks she’s too good to talk to someone like me.
Returning to my folding, I try not to think about how good it was to hear Caleb’s voice earlier today. I should hate him. I should never want to see him again. But I feel the exact opposite—I want to see him, and touch him, and be with him. I shiver, thinking about our encounter in this very store.
I shouldn’t dream of impossible things. I know that. I dreamed that Bo and I would become the perfect couple, and we’d both have jobs and the best marriage and, eventually, kids of our own. That dream was dashed, and expecting that Caleb—a celebrity photographer with a jet-setting career who works with beautiful models day in and day out—would be any different is complete madness. I would definitely be expected to take a back seat to his career. He’d be the star, and I’d be expected to keep my own glow down to a minimum so we wouldn’t compete. It only makes sense.
But thinking about our conversation about the retakes, how he met me halfway? I’m sure he doesn’t realize it, but that meant a lot to me. And it also makes me wonder if I really could have it all.
“Hey Heather, do you know where I put my keys?” Tanya begins flipping over the stack of shirts I just folded. “I can’t find them anywhere.”
“Okay, for one, do not mess up my display,” I say with my hands on my hips. “I know they’re not under these T-shirts. Where did you last remember having them?”
Tanya grimaces. “In my car, driving here?”
“We’re going to have to get you a lanyard or something. Or maybe one of those ones you can attach to your belt. That’ll be super sexy.”
I smile, knowing full well that Jim would come by any day, any hour, to help out his girlfriend. Returning to the table of shirts, I begin folding again, but my gaze catches on the blond woman. She’s now staring at me, like I’m a bug who dared to stick itself to the bottom of her Jimmy Choo stilettos.
“May I help you?” I raise an eyebrow. Either I have something on my face, or this woman is mental. Maybe both.
The woman doesn’t seem surprised at me catching her staring. She doesn’t look away, but instead narrows her eyes at me. “You aren’t what I expected,” she murmurs.
Okay, now this is just getting weird. “Excuse me?”
“Never mind. Actually, you can help me.”
Now I’m just confused. “Yes…?”
The woman murmurs something to the dog in her bag, which makes the dog yip loudly. I have half a mind to tell her that dogs aren’t allowed in the store, but she’d probably go ballistic.
“Actually, I was looking at this blouse, but I don’t see it in my size. Do you have it in a size extra-small in the back, by chance?”
Looking at this woman’s breasts, I highly doubt she could fit into an extra small, but I refrain from saying as much. I know we don’t have any more of that blouse in the back, but one look at this woman’s expectant expression, and I know I have to at least act like I care.
“Let me go check. I’ll be right back.”
“No rush. Thank you.” She pulls out her phone and turns her back to me as I head off.
I glance at the stock in the backroom, double-checking that I don’t have the blouse in her size. I only have the ones left on the floor. Seeing that some of the stock has gotten messed up, I tidy up a bit, mostly to make the blond ice queen wait.
“I’m so sorry, we don’t have any more in stock,” I say when I return to the floor.
The woman turns toward me; she had been leaning over the counter at the register, which is extremely odd. I look at Tanya, who just shrugs.
“That’s a shame,” the woman says, quickly stuffing her phone back into her—what is that thing, a dog purse? She pushes her lower lip forward. “I so liked it and would’ve loved to have worn it. Stores are always running out of my size. Isn’t that right, Bertie?” The dog doesn’t make a sound. It’s probably died of boredom being stuck in that bag.
“Well, let me know if you need any more help.”
“Oh, we have to get going. There’s nothing else I wanted to look at here. Ta-ta.” She waves, her fingernails a glaring red, and flits out of the store.
“That was weird.” Tanya glances up at me. “And we get a lot of weird people.”
“Yeah, it was. Did you see why she was leaning on the counter like that?”
“No, I had just come from my car. I dropped my keys outside and they fell underneath my car. Go figure, right?”
I don’t say anything, mostly because I have this sensation that this woman will be back to cause more trouble. When Tanya says my name again, I shake off the feeling, telling myself it’s all in my head.
* * *
Have drinks with me tonight.
The text from Caleb arrives when I’m about to head home for the evening, and it sends a stupid thrill through me. I’m about to respond right away, but I force myself not to reply so quickly, like I was waiting for him to contact me.
I give myself ten minutes. By the end, I’m too jazzed to ignore the text any longer.
Sure. When and where?
Caleb says he’ll pick me up, which I probably should say no to. I end up giving him my address instead, because apparently I’m the queen of poor decisions.
He picks me up at eight o’clock, and when I see him at my doorstep, I almost swoon at his feet. Wearing a perfectly tailored pair of slacks and a dress shirt that shows a sliver of his tanned chest, Caleb looks good enough to eat. He grins when he sees me, but the grin transforms into a smolder.
“Look at you, sweetheart. Gorgeous.” He takes my arm and spins me around. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted to skip drinks and have me come inside to get you good and naked.”
I flush. “Behave yourself.” McQueen takes this moment to twine around Caleb’s ankles, his fluffy tail probably getting his pants covered in fur.
Caleb leans down and picks up my cat, who ends up purring so loudly you could probably hear it from a few miles away. “Who is this?” he asks, stroking McQueen’s head.
“McQueen. He’s usually shy around strangers.” I give my cat a glare, but he ignores me.
“I have a way with pussy cats.” Caleb’s fingers glide over the cat’s body, which only makes me think of how his fingers glided over me.
“Okay, time to go.” I grab the cat, set him down onto the floor, and hurry Caleb down the steps. I know one more second of him stroking and talking about pussies will result in falling into bed with Caleb. For a third time.
Then again, that wouldn’t be such a hardship, now would it?
Caleb isn’t going to let me get away from him that easily, though. He takes me by the wrist and, in a move that has me gasping, pushes me up against my front door and kisses me. My body melts as his tongue sweeps into my mouth, and his hands skim down my body to rest on my waist. I don’t even care that my neighbors can see us kissing. Just as I’m about to wrap my arms around him and never let go, he breaks the kiss.
“Let’s go,” is all he says.
I’m left standing at my doorstep, breathing hard and totally turned on, wondering why murder is illegal. It should be allowed in cases where jackasses like him are concerned!
Caleb’s eyes gleam as we drive to the bar. “A little hot and bothered, sweetheart?” he asks after some miles of silence.
“From what? You standing at my door?” I roll my eyes, refusing to mention the kiss. “I feel like a broken record in telling you how arrogant you sound.”
“Did I tell you how gorgeous you look? Because you do look gorgeous. If I weren’t on the highway right now, I’d pull over and show you how gorgeous you are.”
I blush bright red. “Watch the road, Casanova. I don’t want to get in a wreck because your libido took over your brain.”
He just laughs, the jerk.
We arrive at a swanky bar that often has lots of celebrities and other famous people there. Although I know I work in the fashion industry, I still get star-struck whenever I meet someone famous. Caleb, though, walks into the place like he owns it, which doesn’t surprise me.
We order our drinks—I get a glass of wine while Caleb gets whiskey—and that’s when I realize we’re together on what anyone would probably call a date. My body heats and my skin prickles. My heart pounds as I wonder if he considers this a date.
“Did you design that?” He nods at my dress.
I glance down, like I can’t remember what I’m wearing suddenly. “Oh, yes, I did,” I stammer. “It’s from my next collection.”
“I can see why Rebecca wanted you in her magazine.”
I smile from ear to ear. “Thank you.”
He can’t help but smile at me, and then he shakes his head. “I should’ve known—I should’ve just complimented your work from the beginning. Then you wouldn’t have been out for my blood this whole time.”
“Hey now, I wasn’t the one who—”
He holds up a hand. “I know, I know. I messed up. I did many terrible things. I am the evilest of villains. Etcetera, etcetera.” He raises a sardonic eyebrow. “That cover everything?”
“You forgot arrogant, self-absorbed, cocky, rude.” I tick off the adjectives on my fingers. “Thoughtless, obnoxious…”
He growls at me and takes my hand. “I get it, sweetheart. I’m a terrible human being.”
“I’m glad you can admit it,” I say sweetly.
For that, he nips at my fingers. I have to restrain a squeal.
&nbs
p; It’s ridiculous, but my heart squeezes at the flirtation and banter. When we aren’t fighting, we’re good together. We make each other laugh. We poke fun at each other. Then we can discuss art, and fashion, and everything that’s important in our lives.
I shouldn’t read more into this. I shouldn’t hope for more. I already know that I can’t have a career and a relationship. I’m not going to get my heart broken again.
“You want another glass of wine?” he asks when I’m finishing up my second glass.
I really shouldn’t. I shake my head. “Unless you want to carry me out of here, I’d better not.”
“Like I would complain about that. Having you draped over my arm, your ass so close to my cock—”
“Keep it down!” I murmur, although if I’m being honest, I’m speaking louder than he is. “Do you want everyone to hear?”
His eyelids lower, and he gives me a look that says, Yes, I do. Leaning forward, he murmurs into my ear, “If I had my way, I’d take you right on this table. I’d push that dress of yours up your hips until you were revealed to me, and then I’d taste that sweet pussy and lick it until you screamed my name, not caring that everyone else was watching.”
Now I’m practically on fire. I cross my legs, but it doesn’t stop the pulse of blood heading straight to my sex. If Caleb touched me right now, he’d find me wet. Looking at my face, he’s aware of this fact.
“Cat got your tongue?” He smirks at me.
For once, I don’t want to be the one to be surprised. For once, I want to surprise him.
Before I can lose my nerve—or wonder if it’s just the alcohol—I capture his lips with mine and kiss him in full view of everyone in the bar. I lick at his mouth, tasting the whiskey on his lips, and then when he groans, I know that I have him.
I smile when he kisses me back.
Chapter Sixteen
Caleb
Heather tastes like the wine she’s drunk, and it’s heady. I’m about to turn this kiss into something else when I hear someone clear his throat behind me.