by Claire Adams
"Maybe then you'll settle down with a girl and get married. I so much want to have grandchildren before I die," my mother chimed in, but it was more than I could take.
"Forget it. I'm never going to expose an innocent child to that kind of misery. Love is a farce, and marriage never ends in happily ever after. It's the one lesson I learned from you two that I don't need to repeat on my own. I've lost my appetite. Goodbye."
I strode from the table, nearly running into the maid and knocking her over as I stormed out of the house. I was furious because they had come so close to the mark.
I had been feeling lately like I was tired of living alone, and I did feel something special for Kayla. Was it love? Was I willing to consider settling down with someone, or at least having a relationship? With Kayla, I thought maybe I was and that, more than anything my parents had said, struck at the very heart of me. I was nervous, scared, and that made me angry. More than that, I was happy, excited, and full of hope.
This Friday, I would get to see Kayla again when she came to the studio for the cover shoot. It would be my one chance to win her over and get her to see that I wasn't a crazy stalker, just a man who wanted to be with her. I just hoped she didn't quit after everything had happened.
If she did, I would leave the company to go searching for her. I would give up my career, my money, everything. I suddenly understood my father so much more than I ever had, and why he was willing to stand by my mother through anything. I already felt that way about Kayla after just one afternoon together. I didn't want to admit it even to myself, but I was already too far gone to ever give her up.
Chapter Eight: Kayla
"Welcome, Miss Brandt. They're waiting for you in hair and make-up whenever you're ready. We'll save fitting you into wardrobe for last. I’m Margie, and I'll be your personal assistant."
The young intern was fresh faced and perky with her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing a cheap suit comprised of black polyester. At first, I had been nervous about coming to the studio that morning. Was it really a good idea to go through with the modeling job and risk seeing Ethan again? Did I even still have a job? But seeing how empty my checking account had become and knowing that rent was right around the corner prompted me to go through with it. Not to mention, Mick's gentle urgings.
"Do it, baby. We need the cash, and if that asshole bothers you again, just let me know and I'll kick his ass," he had said as I stood in front of my bedroom mirror fussing about what to wear and if I should even go at all.
The thought of Mick beating up Ethan had made me laugh. If my memory served correctly, the ass kicking had gone the other way around the last time, but it would have hurt Mick's pride to say so aloud, so I kept thought to myself.
"Does that mean you're coming to the cover shoot with me?" I asked hopefully.
Mick had gone to my couple modeling jobs. He'd sit in the back, smiling at me encouragingly, and make sure I was being treated right. He'd fetch me water when I got thirsty and hand me a robe between changes in lighting and set design. He made me feel special and it gave me the confidence boost I needed to make it through the shoot.
Lately though, he didn't seem that interested. In fact, a lot of times he didn't even bother to drive me there or pick me up and I had to take the city bus. Mick claimed he needed the car in case he got called in for a job interview, but I never understood why he couldn't just leave from the studio if necessary. Still, I hated to argue with him, so I didn't say anything.
"I'd love to go with you, baby, but I think I got an in on a job this afternoon. That friend of yours Samantha said they're looking for a bar-back at the club where she dances. I'm meeting her when her shift gets off and she's going to introduce me to the owner. This will be solid money for us, baby."
"That's great. Congratulations," I kissed him happily. "So I guess I should just take the bus to work."
"Yeah, I guess so. You don't mind, do you, baby?"
"Of course not." I smiled at him like I always did when I was disappointed, and somehow, he always believed I was happy.
When I got to the studio, I half expected it to be locked again, but they were open and the place was bustling with activity inside. Everything looked high-end and everyone seemed so professional, unlike most of my modeling jobs for Mick's business partners. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or even more anxious because of it.
Then, Margie greeted me and my fears melted away. She was so friendly and accommodating, she made me feel like a star. Plus, Ethan was nowhere in sight.
"Can I get you anything? Sparkling water, a latte, or something to eat? Do you want me to read you the L.A. Times while you're in the salon chair?" Margie talked fast and moved even faster.
"Just some flat water would be great, and perhaps some music to listen to. Something upbeat," I said, and within moments, my desires were granted. It was an amazing feeling to be so indulged and I reveled in it. The studio hairdresser styled my long, blonde tresses into fabulously thick waves that curled around my face, framing it perfectly. Somehow she managed to give my normally thin strands endless volume, making my hair sexy and lush, while still appearing soft and having the lightness to flow in the wind. It was amazing.
The make-up artist gave me a smoky-eye look in more natural shades of dark brown that was quite alluring, while keeping my lips such a soft shade of pink they appeared natural with just a hint of glossy shine. The overall affect was sexy without being slutty, intimate without being intimidating.
"What do you think, Mr. Colson?" I heard Margie ask. I looked up into the mirror to see Ethan standing in the back of the room.
"Perfect. Every man will want her. Now get her to wardrobe. The lighting team is almost done setting up, and I want to keep on schedule." He strode from the room without saying a word to me or even making eye contact.
He looked sexy as ever in a dark gray suit the same shade as his incredible eyes, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest. But he was a stalker and a sicko. I could never forget how he had barged into my apartment and assaulted my fiancé; even if he was trying to protect me, it was barbaric (although incredibly chivalrous). Then there was the way he tried to buy me as a prostitute—or was that Mick who had tried to sell me and Ethan just happened to be his intended client?
I couldn't tell anymore, but all I knew for sure was that I needed to push my animal instincts aside and focus on the fact that I was supposed to be mad at Ethan. My loyalty lay with my fiancé, I couldn't let myself have feelings for any other man, even one who made me feel alive for the first time in years the way that Ethan did whenever we were together.
"Are you all right, Miss Brandt?" Margie looked at me with a concern, and I saw from my reflection that my cheeks had become flushed.
"I'm fine. It must be all that aerosol from the hairspray," I lied, and Margie turned on a fan to clear the room.
I followed her to the wardrobe room where the seamstress was hand tailoring a riding suit just for me. Skintight leather pants in royal blue with white stars decorating them and a red and white striped top, mimicking the American flag. The top half of the leather jumpsuit was left completely open, displaying my naked breasts for all the world to see, and I instantly blushed.
"This isn't that kind of magazine," I objected.
"Don't worry, Miss Brandt. Once we get you positioned up on the bike, we'll adjust the top of the suit so your nipples aren't showing. We want it to be clear to the audience that you're naked without actually exposing anything that will alarm the censors. You need to look sexy and alluring, without crossing the line into pornographic."
I recognized the speaker as being Keith Wilkes, the director of marketing for Speed Motorcycles. He'd interviewed me twice before the final meeting when Ethan actually hired me.
Laughing light-heartedly to mask my shyness, I said, "This feels borderline pornographic right now."
"We can remove all non-essential personal from the room during the shoot, but it's really important to Ethan that as
much of your breasts be exposed as possible for the cover. It's why he hired you."
"I bet it is," I muttered under my breath.
Keith cleared the room while Margie fetched me some more ice for my water. I knew from experience that those studio lights could get hot, and being dressed from head to toe in skin-tight leather was only going to make it worse.
Keith guided me to the green screen stage where the new All-American motorcycle was standing, looking sleek and modern, while still holding on to a retro vibe. It was perfect. I started to pose with the bike like I'd seen other models do, but Keith stopped me instantly.
"No, straddle the bike like you're actually riding it. We'll cue the fans and it will look like you're actually cruising down the highway with the wind in your hair.
I straddled the bike, and a half dozen assistants started buzzing around me like butterflies, straightening my clothes, arranging my hair, and adjusting the folds of the top half of my riding suit to cover my nipples while still exposing the majority of my breasts. It was awkward and embarrassing, and I felt incredibly self-conscious. As Keith cued the fans, I was blasted by wind and a series of harsh lights suddenly turned on all around me, blinding me.
"Okay, kid. Now smile for the camera and try to look natural. Let's see that happy, carefree, all-American look that got you the job." Keith tried to be encouraging, but what he asked of me was impossible. How could I look casual and care-free when I felt completely ill-at-ease?
Keith did everything he could to get the look he wanted, making changes to the lighting, adjusting the fans, changing the position of the bike, the angels of the cameras, and the way I was sitting. In the end, it became clear that this just plain wasn't going to work.
"Stop. Let's all take a break. Margie, get Kayla some water. Crew, take fifteen. We may need to just wrap for the day and start again with a new model tomorrow." Keith sounded as frustrated as I felt. I hated to disappoint him, but I didn't know what else I could do. It looked like I was going to lose my big break, not because of Ethan, but because of myself. Perhaps Mick was right: maybe I was too uptight to make it in this business.
"Thank you, Margie." I took the bottle of ice-cold water gratefully from the hand holding it out to me, but as I took a swallow my eyes flew open wide to realize it wasn't Margie who had handed it to me. "Ethan? What are you doing here?"
"I own the company. I can go where I want," he said with an easy smirk that let me know he was teasing.
I had to remind myself not to fall prey to his charms and forced my face into an angry scowl when I really wanted to smile. "I told you that if you bothered me with your stalking again, I would call the police. I'm here professionally, that's all. Now please remove yourself from where I'm working."
"You won't be working at all if Keith has his way. Let me help you. I know you can do this."
"You don't know me," I argued, but inside, I was desperate for help and grateful to him for offering.
"Yes, I do. I know you from that day we went riding together. Remember? Forget these lights, those camera lenses staring at you, and this silly costume I know you'd never really wear. Close your eyes and just listen to the sound of my voice."
I cocked my left brow at him distrustfully, but he insisted with such charismatic power, I couldn't resist.
"Close them. Good girl. Now, just listen to the sound of my voice. We're on our matching bikes, me in front and you in the rear. I lead you out to that country road behind the corporate headquarters. The sun is shining down on your skin, the wind is blowing over your face and through your hair. We round the gentle curve into the straightaway, and you take the opportunity to throttle up and go buzzing past me.
“Now you're in the lead with nothing before you but the open country road. Can you feel it? Can you feel the wind and the warmth of the sun? Can you feel the freedom running through your veins and the power of the engine humming between your thighs? You can go as fast you want to go, for as far as the road will take you, over the horizon and beyond."
As Ethan spoke softly to me, Keith silently waved the crew back to their stations.
As I listened to Ethan's words, I forgot about the uncomfortable suit and worrying about my bare breasts popping out, and I just remembered the emotions of that day when we'd gone riding together. I didn't know it, but my face began to glow with happiness as a smile of pure joy curved the corners of my lips.
As Ethan backed away from me, he said, "You can do anything you want in this world, Kayla. I believe in you. It's why I picked you for this job. Now open your eyes and give me that beautiful smile that is uniquely yours."
I did, and the one thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Ethan standing right behind the camera, watching me with those intense gray eyes and smiling at me with a look of pure admiration and pride. It made me feel beautiful, interesting, confident, and ready to take on the world.
I smiled back at him, giving the camera everything I had from sexy to playful to serious to sweet. The cameras captured it all, giving the editors choices for every mood they might possibly want to print on the cover and providing for a very diverse and interesting photo spread within the pages of the magazine. It was very successful shoot, and by the time it was over, I felt exhausted and yet very proud of what I had done.
"Great job everyone, especially you, Kayla," Keith beamed as the crew started packing up their equipment. "I had thought we should go with a more experienced model, but Ethan insisted that you were our girl, and he was definitely right. We'll sell a record number of bikes after this issue comes out because of you, and every magazine in the country is going to be knocking on your door, begging you to model for them."
"Thanks, but I'm sure that has a lot more to do with Ethan's design and brilliant business sense than my picture." I blushed, unused to such praise.
"Yeah, but it was that business sense that caused him to pick you for the job," Keith pointed out and then left before I could say anything in return.
"Great job today," Margie bubbled as she helped me change out of the jumpsuit in the wardrobe room. "The crew always goes out for drinks after a shoot to celebrate. Do you want to come along?"
"Thanks, but my boyfriend is waiting for me. I think I'll just take shower and go home."
"I'll stay and help you get dressed," Margie offered happily. "I can do your hair if you like."
"No, thanks. You go out with the crew and relax. You worked hard today. Besides, I'd rather just enjoy a good, hot shower by myself."
"Okay. The cleaning crew is still here and security will let you out. I hope one day we get to work together again."
"Me, too." I gave the petite intern a hug and watched as she left. There was a shower in my dressing room where my clothes were supposed to be waiting for me, no doubt washed and pressed by Margie's careful hand. I luxuriated in the feeling of the hot water rinsing away the day’s sweat from my body, the heavy make-up from my face, and beauty products from my hair. As much as it felt glamorous to be all made up, it felt so much better to be free of it all and just be myself.
I climbed out of the shower to find that Margie had left a pile of big, fluffy towels for me. I wrapped one around my wet hair and the other around my body and went in search of my clothes. That's when I ran right into Ethan, standing in the doorway of my dressing room, holding my jeans and tee-shirt on a hanger.
"I believe these belong to you," he said, flashing that incredible smile.
"Thanks," I said curtly and swiped the hanger from him quickly with a long reach of my arm, not wanting to get too close to him. Then, with my eyes cast down at the floor, I continued softly, "Thanks for what you did today. I would have been fired if it hadn't been for your help."
"The great job today was all you; I just helped you get past your own head and into the emotion of the bike. That's what sells motorcycles: the feeling riders get from being out in the open air. I knew you could convey that all-American feeling of being free with your natural beauty and easy smile—you just neede
d to relax enough to do it."
"Well, thank you. I wasn't sure I'd still have a job after what had happened..." I didn't need to finish the sentence. We both knew I was talking about the scene at my apartment.
"I wasn't sure you'd still show up for the job, but I'm really glad you did. I needed to know that you were alright."
"Of course, I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?"
"It seemed like you two were having a pretty intense argument. I was worried he might be hurting you, and when I came in, he had his hands on you. Does he ever get physically abusive with you?"
"How can you ask me that? Mick and I are in love. He would never hurt me, and if I recall, you were the barbarian who started punching people and ripped our door apart."
I expected Ethan to at least apologize for that, but he didn't. Nothing but a long silence filled the air between us until he finally broke it. He took my hand in his and gently rubbed the back of it with his thumb. When his eyes stared intently into mine, I felt as if they were penetrated through to my very soul.
In a voice that was quiet, and yet powerfully strong, he said to me "You don't have to put up with less than you deserve. I'll protect you and provide for you. I can satisfy your every need, even the desires you don't even know you have yet. Let me be the one to take care of you."
My heart melted in that moment, my knees quivered, and I felt a wave a dizziness wash over me, but I shook it off and forced myself to stand strong. What was this dream I was being offered by this incredible man?
Mick had seemed like a dream when I'd first met him, too, and the waking reality turned out to be far more disappointing, but he was my fiancé, and didn't that mean I owed him my loyalty even if he was far from perfect?
I pulled my hand back and said, "I have a boyfriend. He'll take care of me."
"That's not being a boyfriend, and that's not taking care of someone. Call me when you see the truth; anytime, anywhere, I'll be there for you."
