by Brux, Boone
Relationships—or lack there of—were exhausting. Trying to figure out what somebody else felt was even more so.. That was one of the reasons she hadn’t had a serious boyfriend since college. She sighed and stood. Hopefully the photo shoot would divert her attention.
After forwarding the office calls to the answering service, she locked her purse in the bottom drawer. She wouldn’t let her issues with Tor taint the excitement of being the new face for the Goddess line.
Until this moment, she hadn’t contemplated what the job would mean. The last thing she wanted was to become her mother. She pushed that thought aside. No way. It wouldn’t happen. Though she’d never given any thought to following in Azzura’s footsteps, the idea of more money and another career path if things went bad between her and Tor gave her a sliver of peace.
She hated to give her mother any credit for the opportunity, but she couldn’t deny that being the daughter of a famous model and cosmetic megastar provided a little more financial security—for once.
Now to figure out what to do about her love life.
Chapter Six
The elevator traveled to the eighth floor without stopping. Nikki could get used to this express service. The doors opened onto a stylish lobby, filled with even more stylish young women. A gorgeous blonde, standing next to the door and thumbing through a fashion magazine, smiled at her. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Nikki returned her greeting, wondering if she knew the woman.
“Congrats.” The blonde closed the magazine and held out her hand. “Hestia.”
“Nice to meet you.” Nikki shook the woman’s hand, surprised by the model’s friendly demeanor. “Hestia, like the Greek goddess?”
“Yeah.” Hestia waved a hand. “A distant relative.”
Nikki would have laughed, but the woman didn’t appear to be making a joke. “Great.”
She took a few steps and a dark-haired beauty stood and stuck out her hand. “Artemis. It’s really a pleasure to meet you.”
“Uh, nice to meet you too—Artemis.”
Before she could shake Artemis’s hand, another woman with stunning red locks stood and yanked Nikki in a hug, crushing the breath from her.
“I’m so excited to meet you.” The redhead released Nikki, and gave a several quick claps while bouncing up and down. “Apollomae.” She bounced a couple more times. “But you probably knew that already.”
At a loss for words, Nikki blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Of course.”
What the heck was going on? The group began to crowd around her like a horde of beautiful zombies. She pivoted and headed to the reception desk that spanned the length of the wall, praying they wouldn’t follow her.
“Nikki.” A tall brunette with bloodred lips and a severe bob haircut whom Nikki recognized glided around the desk. She wrapped Nikki in a rather exuberant hug. “OMG, I could not believe it when Creed told me about your shoot today. The face of Goddess. I’m so excited for you.”
“Thanks, Bridget.” Relief washed through Nikki. Finally, somebody normal. She lowered her voice and pointed at her chest, indicating the hovering horde behind her. “What’s with them?”
Bridget rolled her eyes. “Back to your seats.” She made a shooing motion. “He’s not going to show up here, so you can just cool your panties.”
A unanimous groan of disappointment rippled through the lobby and the group turned and reclaimed their seats. It all made sense. They were hoping to meet Tor, the man behind Goddess. Of course. And they were here to audition for the face of Goddess, thus the Greek names. It was clever—weird, but clever.
“I’m so excited for you.” Bridget locked arms with Nikki and pulled her toward the hallway.
“About being the face of Goddess?”
The brunette gave her arm a squeeze. “That and you know—coming into your own.”
Nikki had no idea what “coming into your own” meant, but after this morning, she was tired of being clueless. “Oh, well, thanks.”
“So…who’d you have to bang to get that job?”
Nikki’s mouth dropped open. She glanced over her shoulder to find the other women still staring at her. “It was Creed’s idea.”
“I just bet it was. That man is hot enough to set my panties on fire.”
“I know, right?” Nikki gave her a coy smile. “You should go for that.”
“Who? Creed?” She yanked Nikki to a stop. “I thought you were hitting that.”
“Me?” Nikki scrunched up her face. “No.”
Bridget propped her hands on her hips. “Are you sure? Because all he’s been talking about is you and this shoot for the last three hours.”
“He’s probably just excited.” This was not a conversation she wanted to engage in. Sure, there had been flirting last night, but that’s all it was, especially after her night with Tor. Fueled by estrogen, gossip ran rampant through corporations like Kythera Cosmetics. The small amount of testosterone in the building did little to dampen the effect when a juicy tidbit hit the grapevine. “Creed is really nice, but you know me—” She fixed Bridget with her best martyr look. “I don’t mix business and pleasure.”
God would strike her down for that lie. Last night she’d not only mixed business with pleasure, but dumped them both into a huge blender and hit puree.
“Too bad.” Bridget pushed open a swinging cherry door. “Cuz I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t take much to get Creed out of his pants.”
As if to add a visual to Bridget’s prediction, Creed turned, smiling as he closed the distance between them. He was definitely lingerie-worthy. Even the stuff that looked like dental floss and needed to be surgically removed from the crack of her butt. Still, he couldn’t hold a candle to Tor.
“You made it.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Determined to enjoy herself and not think about Tor, she pushed all thoughts of last night and this morning from her mind. If he could pretend they hadn’t shagged their brains out, then so could she—maybe. “What happens first?”
He eyed her for a few seconds. “I think I’d like to put you in front of the camera before we start your makeover.” He brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “Let’s find out which of your features play best to the camera. Then I’ll let them have at you. “
“Them?” Nikki asked.
“The hair and makeup crew.”
Bridget gave a little shudder and pivoted to leave. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Nikki called after her. She looked at Creed. “Should I be afraid?”
“Naw, they’re pussycats.” His firm fingers wrapped around her upper arm and guided her toward an open space in front of a camera. A white backdrop stretched behind her, but there were no other adornments to the set. Bright lights snapped on, and she blinked against their harsh glare. “Stand here, smile, and try to relax.” He moved behind the camera and peered through the lens. “I’m going to take these preliminary shots, but you’ll be assigned one of Kythera’s professional photographers for the real shoot.”
It was as if her arms and hands had grown five times their normal size. No matter how she positioned them they felt awkward and unnatural. She finally locked her fingers behind her back and smiled. Creek clicked off several shots.
“Can you turn to your right and look back at the camera?”
She did as he asked, trying to shake her nervousness. His directions were clear and tempered with gentle guidance. After a few minutes, she relaxed, understanding what he wanted from her. Perhaps she was more like her mother than she cared to admit. In all the years her mother modeled, Nikki couldn’t remember seeing a bad picture her. Either it never happened or the photos no longer existed. Azzura Li Fonti was a natural-born camera whore.
“And now to the left.” Creed’s voice took on a businesslike tone, gaining in its intensity. “Beautiful.” He straightened and smiled at her. “Just as I thought. You’re a natural.”
“A chip off the old block
, eh?” In her opinion that wasn’t a compliment. She moved out of the lighting to stand next to him. “May I see?”
He handed her the camera. “Scroll right and left with this button.”
His fingers brushed hers and his chest pressed against her shoulder. A faint hint of cologne wafted around Nikki, reminding her of fresh air and the ocean. Perfect for his beach-boy looks.
With each new picture, he pointed out what he liked and didn’t like. His eye for detail was impressive. To Nikki, the photos were just great shots that made her look way better than she actually did. But from his descriptions, she ceased to be a person and instead became a beautiful object to capture.
“You still on board for a makeover?”
She handed him back the camera. “If you still want me, I’m yours.”
“I like the sound of that.” His smile held a hint of flirtation.
“I bet you do. All these beautiful women dying to be molded by you. It must be every man’s fantasy.”
He shrugged, a little of his playfulness evaporating. “You’d be surprised how much it’s not my fantasy.”
“Just looking for an old-fashioned girl, eh?”
“I’d be happy with somebody whose life wasn’t driven by every morsel of food she put in her mouth or the latest trend.”
Creed’s confession seemed sincere, and even though she was probably being a complete idiot for still hoping things would work out between her and Tor, she needed to put the kibosh on any ideas Creed might have about the two of them. However, she did know somebody who might be open to the idea of dating Creed. After all, he was a trophy-winning catch. “I should introduce you to my friend Stacey. She’s an attorney and loves to eat.”
“Trying to pawn me off on your friends, eh?” He smirked when she said nothing, only stared at him like a deer in the headlights. “What if I said it’s not your friend I’m interested in?”
A warm blush crept up her cheeks. “I’d say I’m flattered.” She paused. “Wait, you were talking about me, right?”
“Yes.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Unless you’ve got a special someone in your life already?”
Did she? That was a loaded question. She crossed her arms and sort of folded in on herself, not knowing how to respond. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated, huh?” His gaze zeroed in on her, and she found it difficult to meet his eyes. “Is it Tor?”
Nikki’s mouth dropped open and she gave a cough of gasping horror. “Why would you say that?”
He shrugged. “Something about his death stare and the way you fawned over him at dinner last night.”
“I did not fawn over him.” She lifted her chin and glowered at him. “He was sick. I was concerned.”
“Then it’s not Tor?”
Curse her inability to lie. “Shouldn’t we be starting my makeover?”
“Then it is Tor?”
She let out a long-suffering breath. “Yes, it’s Tor, but so far it’s one-sided.”
“I’m sensing a but.”
She shrugged. “But I’m not ready to give up hope—yet.”
“I get it.” He nodded. “And Tor’s a fool if he doesn’t see what’s right in front of him.”
Dang, why couldn’t she fall for somebody like Creed? He was considerate, understanding, and drop-your-panties gorgeous. “Yeah, and I’m a fool for hoping he’ll change his mind.”
“Anything I can do to help? Maybe pretend to be your boyfriend to make him insanely jealous?”
She laughed, but his gaze was unrelenting. “That’s very sweet, but I can fight my own battles. I’d rather know where I stand with him than play games.”
His eyes traveled up and down her body, creating a warm stirring in the pit of her stomach. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”
“I wish he felt the same way.”
“Maybe he does. I don’t know Tor very well but he seems like a man that plays his cards close to his chest.”
“Too close sometimes.” She pointed a finger at him. “Anyway, I’d love to set you up with my friend Stacey. Are you opposed to a sexy Latina attorney?”
“I think I could suffer through an introduction.”
Nikki folded her arms again. “Good, I’ll call you with the details later—after she agrees.”
“It sounds like a plan.” He shrugged. “And in the end, if it doesn’t work out with those two, maybe you’ll give me a chance.”
She smiled. “Perhaps.” Though she doubted she’d be in a receptive emotional state if Tor completely rejected her.
He covered her hand with his, brought it to his lips, and kissed the tips of her fingers. “Come on, let’s get you ready.”
Their next stop was the makeup room. She’d never been in this section of the building before. The stylists and makeup crew were incredibly territorial, and she’d never had much reason to venture further than the executive dining room on the twelfth floor. Girlish excitement bubbled to the surface when the line of beauty products and tools came into view. Playing with her mother’s makeup on a photo shoot was one of the few good memories she had from her childhood. So many colors and products. It was like crack for beauty queens.
“Girl, I know that look.” José, the senior makeup artist, waved a ring-clad finger at her. “Like you’ve woken up to find Adonis naked, holding two cups of steaming coffee and a dozen doughnuts.” He winked at her. “If you know what I mean.”
“Nice visual, José,” Creed said.
She laughed. “Am I that transparent?”
“It happens to all of us, honey.” He motioned her over to a swivel chair. “Cosmetics are in our blood.”
“I’ll leave you in José’s capable hands.” Creed checked his watch. “What are we thinking, two hours?”
“Oh honey, by that time we’ll have her looking like Aphrodite herself.”
“Sounds good.” Creed waved. “I’ll check back.”
“You do that.” José winked and shook his head. “Thank you to whoever decided to hire that man. He’s just delicious.”
Nikki had met José once, but mainly knew of him by reputation. Everything she’d ever heard seemed to be true. White skinny pants hugged birdlike legs, and a fluorescent green-and-blue scarf draped gracefully about his neck. The small paunch and deep crow’s feet around his eyes tagged him as middle-aged, but his flamboyant style contradicted any hint of a sedentary lifestyle.
“You’re welcome.” Nikki smiled and climbed into the chair. “Though I merely suggested Mr. Killion for the job.”
I just bet you did.
There were the voices in her head again. She stared at José, positive his lips had not moved, but the look on his face told her he thought she was sleeping with Creed. Mind reading—definitely a cause to call up the psychiatrist.
“So,” she said, deciding not to mention her oddly disturbing ability, “what are you going to do to me?” She ignored José’s reference to her and Creed having a relationship. Being the face of Goddess was supposed to be a fun pastime, but she still needed to remain professional. “I’m open to anything.”
She’d seen José’s work. The man was a genius.
He pulled the elastic from her hair and let it spill around her shoulders. With a ruffling motion, he fluffed her tangled mass. A girlish pout creased his mouth when he picked several strands and held them up like a dead mouse. “Were you going for the street urchin look?”
“Come on, it’s not that bad.”
“Girl, I’ve seen more style on roadkill.”
“Wow, harsh.” She stroked her hair, toying with the ends. “All right, tell me what magic you’re going to perform.”
“Not me, honey. I fix the face.”
He stepped aside and a tall Asian woman wearing what looked like a tool belt approached. Scissors of varying sizes and several other haircutting implements jutted from the pockets.
“This is Miko. She’s going to update your hair.”
Nikki smiled but Miko didn’t smile back, already
focused on her task.
She sifted Nikki’s hair through her fingers, rubbing the strands between her thumb and index finger, and then held each section out to examine it. “Dry, split ends, washed-out color.”
Nikki felt like she’d just flunked Beauty 101. “Sorry.”
“We need layers and more blond.” Miko dropped the hair as if it were a pair of dirty underwear. She leveled her hand just below Nikki’s shoulder in a kind of stylist ninja chop. “I think six inches once I get this combed out.”
Nikki glanced at José, who was tapping his cheek with a blue-polished fingernail and nodding his head. Pushing all her doubts aside, Nikki said, “Okay, let’s do it.”
If not for José’s constant stream of chatter, there would have been no speaking at all. Miko’s task of creating photo-worthy hair seemed to require the focus of a yogi attaining nirvana. She set forth attempting to smooth the frizz, which was both painful and slightly humiliating. Nikki bit down on her lip, resisting the urge to curse each time Miko yanked at a particularly stubborn knot. Once finished, the hairdresser exchanged her comb for scissors.
Six inches had been a conservative estimate. Closer to eight inches dropped to the floor with each precise cut Miko made. To Nikki, the damaged chunks of hair sliding down the plastic cape she wore were symbolic of getting rid of her tired routine. This was a bold move she was making, and a way to step out of the rut she’d been stuck in for the last few years. Out with old.
Tor had awoken her last night to what she’d been missing, and if he wasn’t man enough to own what they’d shared, she’d show him what he’d be missing.
Every so often Miko would drag lengths of hair through her fingers, checking for unevenness. The cut took no more than thirty minutes, and when she was finished, Miko jammed the scissors into her tool belt like a gunslinger and ran her hands through Nikki’s hair.
Seemingly satisfied with the cut, Miko preceded to mix two bowls of different colored gel. Her strokes were lightning fast, as if she’d blended color a thousand times. She sectioned small pieces of Nikki’s hair, slathered the segments with gel, and layered them between sheets of foil. After completely covering her hair, Miko rolled a hair dryer over to where Nikki sat and adjusted the height before turning the machine on. Warm air buffeted Nikki’s head, and the low roar of the dryer drowned out José’s monologue about celebrity face-lifts.
