by C. J. Thomas
“Have you tried that one before?” This place wasn’t pricy but this girl still managed to find something that cost a few bills.
“No, but anything that expensive has got to be good, right?” Megan gave me an expectant smile—her first real smile of the evening.
Instead of getting caught up in how hot she was, she made me think of Tessa.
Because Tessa’s smile was so opposite.
When I first saw Tessa smile, it hit me like no other woman ever had. The last time I felt that kind of rush, I was about to heli-ski down the Swiss Alps. Making her smile was like the moment before I jumped, when I was the most exposed, thrilled, and alive. That split second before I leaped off the helicopter, when everything came to a head and I could still turn back but there was no way in hell I’d give up that high.
I looked at Megan, wanting to give her a shot. I was here with her, after all. But then, every time I looked at Megan not smiling, it made me want Tessa here even more.
Tessa had this look about her like she was real.
The longer I sat here, the more I saw that the only real thing about Megan was that she wanted my money, real bad. That was the only thing girls seemed to want from me. That and my connections.
I didn’t know what made me send the most expensive bottle that Echo offered to Tessa and Sadie’s table tonight. It cost ten times what this one did. It wasn’t like I cared about the money—saving it or spending it.
I wondered what Tessa would have picked if she was given the same list as Megan.
The waiter stepped beside the table. He had a face I almost wouldn’t mind photographing. All angles and high cheekbones, but there was the matter of the crooked nose. Probably from some fight. He raised his eyebrows and leaned forward as if to say, I have eight other tables and I’ve been by here four times. Please, God, tell me you know what the hell you want already.
Megan held up the menu, about to point at her choice, but I couldn’t take one more tap of those nails.
I nodded at the waiter. “Just the check.”
CHAPTER 4
Liam
“Evening for one, sir?” Randy asked as he opened the lobby door for me. His eyes crinkled as he smiled, reminding me that though the man had been through two tours in Iraq, his heart had never left home.
“Pretty sure most Brooklyn’s doormen don’t comment on the tenants’ private lives,” I said, and reminded myself he wasn’t being an ass, just like I had to every time he gave me hell.
I got it. He gave a shit about me. But he really didn’t have to point out the fact that I was twenty-five with no plans to settle down anytime soon every time I walked through the door.
That was the thing—I would never settle.
“It wasn’t really a question, sir. You do own the whole building.”
“All the more reason to keep it to yourself.” I didn’t know why I bothered. I never really meant it and Randy had been my family’s doorman ever since my parents moved to New York from Switzerland fifteen years back.
Randy handed me the box of mail for the week. I turned and dumped it all straight into the trash. This was our routine.
“Like I’ve said before, just toss my mail. There’s no reason to sort through junk.”
Whether it came as a request for a blurb from a gallery or some plea to donate to the charity of the month, everyone wanted a piece of me. They didn’t even know me. I’d be happy to help, depending on the cause, but if they couldn’t bother to understand that I needed some sort of connection with everything I supported, then I didn’t have time for them. A random letter in the mail wasn’t going to do it for me.
Randy reached into the trash and pulled the box of mail out, then made a show of grabbing a few letters that had slipped out. “Your mail, sir.”
“Not going to let it go this time, are you?”
Randy shrugged and I could see his traps flex under his tailored suit. Though he had to be in his fifties, he stayed in shape. I’d extended the use of my private gym to my staff. Dad always said that if you kept everyone happy, they’d work harder and longer for you. Sometimes the little things stood out most.
I ran my fingers through my wavy hair. I’d started the nervous habit sometime after coming to the States. It was a big reason I grew it out and kept it long.
The movement was soothing and it made me think of Tessa again. I wanted to know what it would feel like for her to run one hand through it, then the other. Take it in her fist and kiss me so deep—
“Sir, the box?”
“Got it.” I reached over and tucked it under the crook of my arm. “I’ll even go through it.” The words spilled out a moment before I could catch them. I didn’t want to bother with this trash, but after I said I’d do it, I would.
Walking through my front door was my favorite moment every day. The floor-to-ceiling metal door said modern vibe meets New York protection. Not that my security alarm wasn’t state of the art.
One side of the loft kept the old warehouse feel with the washed out bricks. I added my own bit of color to the room with floor-to-ceiling photographs. All beautiful women, all naked in sensuous poses. This was not a wall of pin-up girls or what you’d find stuck together in a magazine some boy stashed under his mattress.
I’d dated only one girl on this wall and I kept the print here because I didn’t have the heart to take it down. The photo marked the pivotal reason I moved from landscapes to models. I knew when I’d taken it that I’d found my passion. She and I had spent hours in the bedroom and I didn’t have a single photo of her with her clothes on.
When the morning light had shone through my vertical blinds, it hit her curves in just the right way to give her tiger stripes. This one photograph embodied the balance of a sensual being meets fierce woman. I’d been creating the same message with my corset exhibit.
But I wanted to find the same passion and connection with a woman beyond my photos.
The lights powered on as I walked into the open kitchen and set the box of mail onto the marble countertop. I glanced over at the two-sided fireplace separating the main living room from the master bedroom and pushed down the urge to torch the mail. Something told me that if Randy didn’t find at least a handful of opened letters, I’d never hear the end to it.
The simple envelopes usually had the most to say. They didn’t smell like they were bathed in perfume or contained tasteless nude selfies of women in their bed, bathtub, or barn. I didn’t think I’d ever get the image of the middle-aged woman in the chicken coop out of my head. Overalls would never look the same again.
I grabbed the last two plain-looking letters and tossed the rest into the recyclables. Randy would just have to compromise. I sliced the top of the first envelope and before I had it unfolded, I recognized the letterhead for one of the top real estate agencies in the Tristate area. I was about to just toss the last piece of unopened mail until I saw “FINAL NOTICE” stamped across the front. Probably some discount auto insurance quote, but I played along.
About to unfold the paper, the eagle crest and “United States of America Immigrations and Customs Enforcement” at the top made my fingers go still. I glanced down at the words “FINAL NOTICE” on the white envelope lying on the dark wood. It stood out like a lone skier flying down fresh powder.
I wanted to stuff the letter and every word on it back into the box and forget this ever happened. I readied myself to scan the page, took a deep breath, and somehow knew it’d be my last moment as a free man.
Dear applicant,
We regret to inform you that you have been found ineligible for a non-immigrant visa . . .
. . . due to your failure to notify our office . . .
. . . today’s decision cannot be appealed . . .
The hell with that. I’d lived here for over half my life. Of course I was going to appeal, request, call, demand, and do whatever else I had to so I could keep doing exactly what I wanted and loved to do.
The large box of letters in my trash
weighed on me. Just how many of these notices had I missed? At this point, would my words to ICE mean as little to them as the pile of mail had to me?
One way or another, I’d figure it out and make it happen.
A smile twitched at the corner of my mouth as an image of Tessa filled my vision. Her lying on my bed, wrapped in my white satin sheets. The morning sun slipping through the window, casting light and shadows across her hips, showing the woman within, just like that photo on my wall.
Something else I definitely wanted to make happen—make Tessa mine.
CHAPTER 5
Tessa
“Please tell me this is the side door,” I muttered to myself under my breath.
It wasn’t the same door to Phoenix Studios I went through yesterday when I had the pleasure of meeting Paisley’s twins, so I decided to take my chances. As long as I didn’t come face-to-face with another pair of boobs, I’d be one happy girl.
How Sadie had convinced me of coming here on a Saturday when the chances of anyone being at the studio were less than none, I still wasn’t sure. Even more, I needed a reasonable explanation for being here in case I happened to run into the exact person I came here to meet.
“Tell him you were in the area,” Sadie had said.
I might as well say, I just happened to be on the side of town I never go to because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And don’t mind me, I was just going to have some fun by wrapping my legs around you while nibbling on your neck. He’d find that perfectly normal, right?
I readjusted my Coach purse over my shoulder and was about to push open the door when my phone rang. I reached into the front pocket of my bag, about to go for the silent button, when I caught a glimpse of the caller.
My little sister, Dani. I stepped back from the door and clicked accept.
“Hey, sis. What’s up?”
“Dad wanted to make sure you were still on for Monday.” She said it as though we were going to dinner, not that I was starting my first day at the company. He’d only been setting me up since I was twelve to take over the place. Thank god I had another few decades before I had to actually take the company over. Monday was orientation, that was all. I could live with that kind of pressure.
“You’re not his personal secretary, you know,” I said to Dani.
“Well, when you’re not around, someone gets the fun jobs.”
I smiled. “Don’t I know it.”
“You free tonight?”
I glanced at Liam’s door. “I hope not.”
“That’s not exactly an answer,” Dani said, and I could feel her mischievous glare through the phone.
“I take it you have a final on Monday?”
“Accounting, first thing in the morning. Your favorite.”
Sometimes I wished her teasing remarks weren’t so dead on. “I should have all day tomorrow.”
Dani squealed. “You’re the best!”
“Remind me again when you ace the test.” I clicked the phone off and once again reached for the main entrance to Phoenix Studios.
Apparently, every expensive door also had to be heavy as hell. I’d been expecting to see lights and curtains after I opened it up. All the things that would be on this side of a studio.
Instead, a long hallway greeted me. Photos of barely-clothed women lined both sides, serving as a gallery for the artistically aroused male.
Halfway down, my eyes went to a shot of transparent heels. I recognized them as Cinderella’s, except they had a killer five-inch stiletto, the tip pressed into a curve of smooth flesh. The body part had me stepping in closer. I couldn’t tell if it was a butt or a breast.
That was how every piece was—I could stare at it from a different angle and see a whole new photo.
All of Liam’s photos explored a provocative form. It didn’t matter that I was attracted to men; the way he captured a woman’s beauty made my heart race.
I wanted him to see me in that same way—beautiful.
My bag nearly slipped from my shoulder. This time not from the exhaustion after an accounting or marketing final, but from the lure of this man I’d just met. Barely a week ago, I’d been consumed by studying. Cramming every night.
Only yesterday did I realize how much I needed a release. And perhaps even a release that came in the form of a man. A man like, Liam.
Which was probably Sadie’s motive when she persuaded me to come back today instead of going to my own graduation. I didn’t know how she thought Liam would be available for anything, but I wanted to find out.
Another metal door filled the end of the hallway. My fingers were on the handle, about to open it, and I stopped when I saw the frosted glass to my right with the words Phoenix Studios etched on the surface.
Doors this fancy were usually locked, just like men like Liam were usually taken.
As I pushed the aged bronze handle down, I stood ready to turn back down the hall of gorgeous women. Instead, the door swung open on silent hinges.
I held my breath and peeked my head inside.
The room looked like part factory, part laboratory, and all Liam. A cluster of oversized flat-screens on the far wall sat over industrial-looking equipment that I could only imagine would be to enlarge and edit all sorts of digital photos. That was what photographers did, right? Snap and edit.
I recognized Liam’s broad silhouette slowly swinging one way, then the other, on top of a bar stool. I had expected a high-backed leather chair, but this gave me a better, more delicious, view.
Facing the horseshoe table, he clearly didn’t know I stood behind him. In the silence of the room, I heard the guitar riffs from his on-the-ear headphones from fifteen feet away. Liam faced two wall-mounted monitors lining one side of the desk. His gray shirt pronounced his delts, lats, and every other back muscle I wanted to run my fingers across. Something—everything—about him made me want to raise the material up, just so I could kiss my way down.
Heat spread down my core and fanned out between my thighs.
Stepping to the side, I saw the first monitor. His hand moved quick and precise, editing the photo spread. I watched him for a moment, from an angle where he couldn’t see me. The more I gazed, the more I wanted to slide my hands down those shoulders and distract him.
My tongue darted out of my mouth and slid nice and slow across my bottom lip.
Something told me he wasn’t used to women keeping him on his toes, but he seemed like the kind of guy who needed the rush.
So, why the hell not?
I slowly walked up, feeling like some sort of predator. A cat ready to pounce and dig my claws into his bare flesh.
Except, I was conflicted.
Part of me wanted to pounce on him and the other part wanted to bound away. I compromised by resting a single hand on his shoulder.
“What the—” He spun around in the chair. Even with my height, and Liam sitting down, his presence controlled the room. His eyes widened at seeing me, and a thrill shot through me knowing I’d surprised him. “Oh.”
“Bad timing.” I stepped back. “I can see you’re busy.”
He pulled the headphones down to his neck and I kicked myself for not realizing he couldn’t hear me.
“I was. . .” smooth, real smooth, Tessa, “. . . picking up my résumé . . .” for a job I already have. Lame, real lame. Keep talking. You’re really selling yourself on him wanting you to stay.
A smile peeked at the corner of his mouth. “You just happened to be in the area.”
I pulled at the corner of my skirt as everything else seemed to melt away and all I saw was him; his broad shoulders, the flat of his stomach, down to his thick thighs that cradled his large bulge.
“Right, something like that.”
Green. His eyes were definitely green with a subtle hint of brown. The floor-to-ceiling window on the far end of the room gave me the right light to see what I couldn’t in the back studio area yesterday.
God, was it only yesterday that I’d met this guy?
The wine he’d sent me last night had probably been more expensive than all the bottles I’d purchased since turning twenty-one last year. If that was how he treated every woman who came in here, there was no chance he had an opening this decade, let alone this weekend.
My thoughts went back to the wall of women. He probably had at least that many girls on speed dial. Every bit of me said to turn around. To get out before I become just another notch on his bedpost.
Making the first move wasn’t me, but with only two days of no school and no work, I’d decided to give it a go.
“Do you . . . want a tour?” he asked.
Something told me that wasn’t what he was about to say. I really didn’t know what more of the studio there was beyond this room and the two sections of the main warehouse.
“Is there a dark room?” I asked with the innocence of a thief in a bank vault.
Liam chuckled. “Unless you count the bathroom with the lights off, no. I only use digital.” He nodded to the computer screen. “Editing straight from a shot.”
Like the hallway, different sized prints filled every available space of the room. All of these were black and white, with a pop of color. One woman had a monarch resting on her hip. Its vibrant orange wings stood out even more than if it’d been a traditional nature shot. The more I looked at the curves of her body and hint of her private folds, the more her form reminded me of a flower bud.
All the images in this room had that same effect, except one. The small photo on the far end of the desk struck me. It was the only one in full color and the people in it were fully clothed—which was not something I had ever noticed as unusual until this moment, certainly partly because Liam was in the room with me.
Liam followed my line-of-sight, and from the way he sighed I could tell something was off. It was clear that the photo wasn’t something he glanced at very often, which made me want to get a better look. I wasn’t expecting any sort of explanation. In fact, with the way his shoulders suddenly slumped, I figured he’d try to take me on that tour, even though it was clear the only part of the place I hadn’t seen was the studio itself, and that bathroom. Instead, he scooted his chair to the photo and I looked over his shoulder.
