Bad Reputations: A steamy, celebrity romance (The Breaking Through Series Book 1)

by Barbara Deleo

  He scoffed. “You don’t have the monopoly on feeling uncomfortable. Of course I’ve experienced those things. It was my job. Modeling is all about presenting the image the client wants, reinventing your outward self at the snap of someone’s fingers. I’ve worried plenty about whether I had good enough muscle definition, or if my hair was thinning…” He dipped his chin and grinned. “Which it isn’t, by the way.”

  “But you’re naturally . . . stunning. You know what to wear and how to wear it. I just can’t do that.”

  He rolled his eyes skyward. “And that’s another thing.”

  “What?”

  “Stop running yourself down all the time. It’s boring, and it’s deeply unattractive.”

  “I don’t run myself down.”

  “You do. You’ll often say it as a joke, like your feet are too big or you have no sense of style, and it’s a pain in the ass. As you’ve seen in the last month or so there are enough people willing to drag you down without you doing it, too.”

  Boy, there was a delicious pleasure in irritating him. “But I’m joking when I say those things.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not funny, and it’s not smart. Have you ever heard me do it?”

  She thought for a second. He’d said very little about himself at all, and certainly nothing negative. This back-and-forth banter was the closest she’d come to feeling like she knew him. Not that he was always blowing his own trumpet, but he certainly presented himself in a good light. She ignored the question. “So you’re becoming my shrink now?”

  “If I have to be. When we get to media training―”

  “Media training?!”

  “We’ll be looking at the way you present on TV and in print and that self-critical thing’s going to be first to go. The first lesson’s tomorrow, and I want you looking your best. Your public’s not going to love your new style if you don’t love it yourself. This is cold, hard business, Kirin. If you believe in what we’re doing, then you’re public’s going to believe it too.”

  She was silent, but his stare remained.

  “You can hate me all you like, but doing this is going to get you back the life you want. The life you worked so hard for.”

  She didn’t hate him, and that was the problem. She could’ve sat looking at the touched-by-gods face of Blake Matthews, having him focus solely on her, all day long.

  She chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t hate you. I just wish you had even the tiniest idea what it’s like to have your whole outward appearance criticized day in and day out.”

  He blew out a sharp breath as Colin, the hairdresser, appeared. She was glad they’d had this out. He needed to know that none of this was as easy for her as he thought it was. It was normal for a thirty-four-year-old woman to want to be accepted just the way she was—but that was something Blake would never do for her.

  She smiled at Colin. Blake had been right. He was nothing like she’d imagined. He was dressed in business pants, a white shirt rolled to the sleeves, and a charcoal tie. “Nice to meet you, Kirin, I’ve been a fan for a long time.”

  “Thanks.” She struggled to get out of the couch, and when Blake reached out a hand, she grabbed hold. Their eyes met, and he pulled her up and winked. She thought she might die from the zing that shot straight to her chest.

  “My wife loves your oil rubs.”

  Oil rubs? She was still holding Blake’s hand and her mind tumbled back to him being bare-chested, but this time she was rubbing him down with oil. Mentally slapping herself, she focused back on Colin.

  Blake cleared his throat. “I’ve briefed Colin on what sort of look I’m after, and I’ll leave you in his hands.”

  “You’re leaving?” She hadn’t expected him to go. Despite the disagreement right now, she still didn’t feel comfortable about doing any of this on her own. Panic became a steel ball in her throat.

  Blake smiled slowly. “I’ve got some things to set up for tomorrow. I’ll drop by your place later with the outfit you’ll be wearing for media training. See you then.”

  Blake walked through the parking lot and cursed the stubborn woman he’d left behind in the salon. God, she was infuriating . . . and mesmerizing. He couldn’t get her out of his head.

  One minute she was strong and defiant, the next unsure of herself and questioning. At that moment of vulnerable indecision, when a little line formed between her brows, it made him want to drag her close and whisper that he’d get this right for her. She could trust him, always.

  Yesterday’s incident with Trent had played over in his mind and each time he was left with a feeling deep in his chest that he wanted to be there for Kirin, do whatever he could to protect her.

  He wanted to know more of her, too. The sexy side that she didn’t even know she possessed. The way she ran her tongue over her lips when she was nervous, the way she played with the thin gold chain around her neck. And the way she believed so much in her business that she’d stand up to him when he challenged her held him fascinated.

  Just what sort of lingerie did she wear? What sort of fantasies did she have in the privacy of her own home?

  What he’d really like to do was uncover a little of that secret side of Kirin tonight. Chip away at the unbelievably hard shell she surrounded herself with and get to know the real Kirin Hart. And that had nothing at all to do with business.

  He swallowed and shook the memories of her off. She might have him fascinated, but he still had a job to do.

  He was due to give a report to one of the Dent and Douglas partners tomorrow about what progress he’d made with Kirin, and so far he had nothing.

  Never had he worked with someone so clueless about fashion and presentation. Even some of the corporate men he styled knew about the difference between a well-cut suit and a cheap one. Kirin not only had no knowledge of what she should wear and how she should present herself, but she had no interest in learning, either.

  If he didn’t have something dramatic to report soon, the board of directors at Dent and Douglas would lose patience. And then they wouldn’t sell. D and D would be the shining jewel in his image business crown. He had to work harder with Kirin.

  He grinned as he imagined what she’d be like tomorrow, eyes sparkling as she attempted to run the media training, her sweet lips pursing as she argued with him about which outfit she’d be wearing and how she’d be presented.

  His phone rang, and the light on the screen showed his brother’s number. What the hell did he want? He hadn’t spoken to Bryn in months and didn’t feel like getting into anything with him now, but there’d been a couple of messages from him at the office and Blake hadn’t gotten around to calling him back. It could be about their father. The old man hadn’t been well for some time and what if… He pressed talk. “Hey.”

  “You’re a hard man to track down.”

  “Busy. You know.” He reached into his pocket for his keys and stabbed the unlock button. “I’m sure you’re in the same boat. How’s the doctor business?”

  There was a pause. “The doctor business is great. How’s the dress-up business?”

  Even though he’d been the one to ask the question, and even though he teased his brother about the importance of his job whenever they spoke, it cut deep every time Bryn and his parents made fun of him. Every. Single. Time.

  “You need to come home.”

  “What for?”

  “We need to get Mom and Dad sold up. They can’t cope with living on the farm anymore. I’ve found a retirement home for them in Salem and I need you to come help me persuade them to move.”

  Blake opened the car door and slid into the seat. “I can’t come right now. Maybe in a couple weeks when I’ve sorted this major project.”

  A snort sounded down the line. “Oh, don’t tell me. Some model needs advice on how to wear her hair a little longer.” Bryn’s voice had changed from cultivated charm to sarcastic in a second. “No, wait, it’s probably an advertisement for silicone implants that you’re fronting.”
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  Blake squeezed the keys in his hands until the sharp edge of one dug into his palm. Stay calm. Prove him wrong.

  “I’m busy, Bryn, and no I’m not saving the world, one patient at a time, like you are, but I’ve put a hell of a lot of time and energy into my business and it’s about to pay off. I can’t go to Oregon right now.”

  There was silence for a minute. “It’s nothing less than I’d expect. When you’ve finished styling the stars, maybe you can take a moment or two to think about some real people with real problems.” The phone went dead, and he swore under his breath.

  He thumped the steering wheel. Damn Bryn. Every time he spoke with his brother, the same childish need to justify his life and his business reared up inside him. Being an image consultant wasn’t so far removed from his brother’s job as a micro-surgeon. They were both in the business of changing the way people looked, but, apparently, one job was so much more meaningful than the other.

  He would go back to Oregon, just as soon as he’d made some decent progress with Kirin. The thought of spending more time with her put the smile back on his face and he sat straighter in his seat. So much would change in his life when he’d secured D and D, not the least of which would prove to his family that he was worth more than what he saw in the mirror. Kirin was the key.

  “Oh. My. God.” Kirin leaned forward in the chair, hardly able to believe the stylish woman staring back at her from the mirror. Gone was the hair she’d worn halfway down her back since she was fourteen. Gone was the bleached and straight look she’d loved since she first saw the surfer boys in California. Replacing it was a layered, sophisticated cut—not the bob Blake had wanted—that brushed her shoulders. She moved her head just a little and a curtain of hair swung to and fro.

  Carefully, she reached up and smoothed her palm down the length. “You call this a sexy cut?” She’d imagined something far more wild, far more like what her mother would wear, with the fringe a little too long, the color a little too bright.

  “Take a look at the back.” Colin held the mirror up, and she ran her hand down the honey colored length. “Blake’s not going to be happy it’s not a bob, but I think you were right, it’s a perfect look for you.”

  “Do you style for a lot of his clients?” She turned her head this way and that.

  “I was the personal stylist to his girlfriend, Ellen, for years and when they broke up, we stayed in touch.”

  “Oh.” A million questions raced through her head, but only one left her mouth. “Was she stunning?”

  “Meh.” Colin shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe on the outside, but on the inside she was as frozen as the polar ice caps.”

  Kirin found her voice as a whisper. “Did she break his heart?”

  Colin snorted. “If you want my opinion—and since I’m now your stylist, you’ll get it whether you want it or not—Blake likes the drama of being with someone he’s never really going to get close to. It suits his controlling nature and ensures he’ll never have to be vulnerable.”

  “That sounds a little harsh.”

  “Oh, you get that with the twenty-somethings.” He unclipped the plastic cape from her shoulders and she stood. “People like you and I know what life’s about. It’s all downhill after thirty and we have to take a trolley to the beauty store to get all our products, but someone like Blake can rest on his laurels and play the hunk card for plenty of years yet. There’ll be a few hearts kicked to the curb before he’s finished.”

  She stared into the mirrored wall while Colin continued to chat and make arrangements for her next appointment. Both Lucy and Colin had suggested Blake was a lady-killer, a ruthless player who’d left a trail of broken hearts in his wake. And instead of that turning her off him and warning her to keep her distance, she was shocked to discover it excited her in a way she hadn’t been excited in a very long time.

  But she knew any sort of personal connection with Blake was completely out of the question. He was a younger man, her employee really, and there was no way on God’s good earth that she would feed any of the lies and slander that had swirled around her for months.

  Her throat dried. A private and primal part of her wanted to get as close to Blake Matthews as any woman could, and she had to keep that to herself for ten whole days.

  6

  It was almost nine when Kirin answered Blake’s knock at her door later that evening. He often liked to signal to his clients that they were his top priority, but hand delivering the outfit for Kirin’s media training tomorrow was more than that. He wanted to be clear that rejecting this one wasn’t an option. She’d wear what he said she’d wear this time or be damned. He’d pussyfooted around long enough.

  Dudley’s bass notes greeted him as he set foot inside. He was sitting at the end of the hallway like some ancient gargoyle, and Blake could’ve sworn the dog was giving him the stink eye.

  “I’m just making something to eat,” Kirin said as he followed her toward the kitchen. Rich, buttery smells were coming from the back of the house, and his stomach grumbled in response.

  “What kind of cut do you call that?” He tried to keep his eyes on her hair but was getting distracted by the sway of her hips in her tight tan skirt as she walked ahead of him.

  “I had a little disagreement with Colin,” she said as they reached the kitchen.

  “You mean you persuaded him to cut your hair the way you wanted. No one does that.”

  She threw a sparkling smile over her shoulder. “I do. Here, I’ll take that.” She reached for the suit bag he was holding and for the first time he was given the full impact of her new look. Her whole face lit up. The new light honey color of her hair contrasted with the deep brown of her eyes, and the style framed her face perfectly. He couldn’t have chosen better himself.

  She blinked, then frowned, and he realized he’d been staring. Clearing his throat, he passed her the garment bag. “You’ll wear this for the first media training session tomorrow. You won’t need me there, but I’ll have a driver pick you up and drop you back.”

  “Okay, I hope I like it.”

  “Liking’s irrelevant. I’ve put the instant camera in so you can take some self-timer shots wearing this different ways. And no sabotaging my plans like you did with the hair.”

  She bit her lip and shot him a devious look from beneath her lashes. God, she was hot when she was being defiant.

  “I know you like it.” She gave her head an overly dramatic toss. “It’s going to be easy to style, and it’s long enough that I can still put it up in an alligator clip, but don’t tell Lucy.”

  He chuckled as she laid the bag across a chair. It took some sort of woman to be ballsy and funny at the same time.

  “Hungry?” she asked. “I had a craving for a three cheese gnocchi and salad. It won’t take a minute.”

  He had no clue what a three cheese gnocchi was, but he wouldn’t stay. It’d be an early start tomorrow, and he wanted to fit in a run at dawn. “No, thanks. I’ll see you Saturday after the photo shoot at my apartment. A weekend shoot in a private location fits with us keeping things under the radar, but it’ll just be you and Alex, the photographer, I’m afraid. I’m meeting with a friend who can help us with a new TV launch for you, so I’ll come by after that. I’ll get a selection of outfits to you tomorrow, and Alex will meet you at the apartment.”

  Standing still, she narrowed her eyes at him. “What have you eaten today?” She’d completely ignored what he’d just said.

  “Sorry?”

  “Food. What have you had today?”

  What had he eaten? It took a few seconds to remember. “A protein shake after my run this morning, half a burger at lunch, and a cookie from a gas station after I left you with Colin.”

  “I don’t know how you exist.” She moved behind the counter and began checking a pan on the stove. “I bet you don’t even know what was in the burger.”

  “Sure I do.” He speared his fingers through his hair and looked back at the front door he should lea
ve through, then back to her at the stove. There was something about the homeliness of this place, the comforting cooking smells, Dudley lounging on his luxurious cushion, and the vision of Kirin in her kitchen that made it hard to leave. “There was some meat and some green stuff.”

  He looked up to see her rolling her eyes. “Nutrition, that’s what your body needs. Fresh food that’s been cooked with love, not stuff you grab on the run. When was the last time someone cooked for you?”

  He shrugged. “Last week when I ate at the little Italian place underneath my apartment.”

  She laughed. “I’m surprised you can do all that running when you eat so badly.” She assembled a knife, chopping board, and the makings of a salad. “You’re staying for dinner, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  He watched as she bent her head, and the strangest feeling overtook him. When was the last time someone had shown such basic concern for him? Cared about what and when he’d eaten? It chilled him to realize he couldn’t remember.

  He strolled to her display shelf, the warmth of her interest settling on him. He bent down and looked at the enormous collection of salt and pepper shakers “I run so I can eat badly. When did you start collecting these?”

  She threw a look to where he was standing and resumed cooking. “My mother gave me my very first pair—the couple from American Gothic—when I left Iowa, to remind me of where I came from.”

  “Which are your favorite?”

  She began slicing something at the counter. “See the Laurel and Hardy ones? They were my grandmother’s. I can’t help smiling when I look at them. I love the idea of couples who complement each other like salt and pepper. I had Scarlett and Rhett from Gone with the Wind but someone knocked Rhett’s head off and I couldn’t bear to have Scarlett sitting there on her own.”

  For a fleeting moment, Blake thought of his apartment. There were no shelves with knick-knacks there. Rented furniture, a suitcase full of clothes, but if he were honest, it wasn’t so different from his place back in New York. He’d hired a decorating company to furnish his Manhattan apartment, but he spent so little time there he never cooked or entertained.