by Kennedy Fox
“You want me over here?” I ask, noticing the slight tremble of her hands, so I try to change the subject. It’s cute that she’s nervous.
She nods. I get into position, tucking my hands into my pockets, and she instantly hides behind the lens. Considering I’ve been modeling since I was sixteen and have a good decade under my belt, I know my marks, how to look at the camera, and how to position my body, making it pretty easy for photographers to get their money shot. My portfolio includes high paying gigs in a few fitness and fashion magazines and cover model for the New York Times bestselling romance series by the award-winning author Rachel Meadows. Recently, I filled my schedule until the end of the year for fitness shoots and even signed contracts, but right now, as far as book covers go, I’m exclusive to Rachel. The advance I was given not to be on other romance book covers was well worth it. Ninety days after her last book is released, my exclusivity ends. I’m living the dream, but I’m still waiting for my breakout moment when agents are fighting over me and six-figure deals are being made. I know it’ll happen.
I undo the button and lower the zipper as I move my pants farther down my body, showing the V I’ve worked so hard to perfect and throw my shirt to the ground. I leave the tie around my neck. Katie gulps—loudly—but continues to take pictures like she’s a paparazzi.
“Do you want to get on the bed?” she asks, nervously.
“Only if you join me.”
Her eyes go wide.
“I’m kidding,” I reassure before I go to the bed. Katie moves to different positions in the room, asks me to change poses, and after an hour of taking photos, she’s finally done. I button my pants and pick up my shirt as she scrolls through the photos she’s taken.
“So, get some good ones?” I ask, carefully buttoning up my shirt.
“Yeah, totally did. Oh, can I get you to sign this release? If I sell any of these photos, I’ll make sure to give you a cut.”
“It’s not a big deal.” I give her a wink. “I owed your brother big time for recommending me for a job. The only thing is, these photos can’t be used in the publishing media as far as e-books and paperbacks until my exclusivity expires.”
“Oh, I know. My brother told me you weren’t going to be released for that stuff until after summer. He repeated himself about thirty times.” She chuckles. “So, about dinner...” She hesitates, turning off her camera and kneeling to gently place it in her bag. Katie looks up at me and smiles. Seeing her on her knees like this makes my cock twitch. I glance away from her and study the room she booked for the night and think how it’d only be a waste to leave the bed unused. “I have about an hour before I have to be somewhere.”
“There’s a place a few blocks over that has amazing pasta,” I tell her.
Katie watches me, and I realize how bad of an idea this really is. It’d be so easy to slip into her panties and show her a good time, but if Jacob found out, he’d murder me. As I’m fantasizing about rustling in the sheets with her, my phone goes off, pulling me away. I glance down and see it’s Rachel, and one thing I’ve learned over the years is to answer her damn call—always. Otherwise, she’s a terror to deal with because the woman has the patience of an angry tiger.
“Shit,” I whisper and look up at Katie. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”
She glances at her watch. “Maybe we can reschedule this for another time then?”
I give her a smile and a nod and answer the phone as she finishes packing her things.
“Maverick. It’s Rachel.”
I’m well aware, I want to say but don’t.
She continues. “So you know the last book in my series releases in less than three months, and I have Olivia scheduling an extended city tour around the Dallas signing.”
I wish she’d get to the point. I already confirmed with her assistant I’d be attending. “Yes, I’ve already cleared my schedule.”
“Well, I wanted to call and reiterate a few things first to make sure we’re on the same page.” Though Rachel is less than friendly most of the time, the seriousness in her tone is almost frightening.
I chuckle, waiting for her to continue because the silence is deafening.
“I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you how important it is not to fraternize with my readers or my assistant, Olivia.”
Katie stands around, waiting for me to finish my conversation, but this is going to take longer than even I expected. Rachel keeps talking, and eventually, Katie waves goodbye, leaving me alone in the room.
Rachel Meadows has officially cockblocked me.
As she goes into detail about her expectations, I interrupt her.
“Rachel. Hold on. You don’t have to keep going. None of that is going to happen. I know the do’s and don’ts when it comes to traveling and being on the job. I’m sure you mean well, and I know how other models can be, but I understand the importance of being professional at all times, especially in public settings. I’m not going to arrive late to the events and don’t plan on sleeping with anyone. You have nothing to worry about. Trust me.”
“Good. That’s exactly what I want to hear.” She actually sounds relieved. I can only imagine how many different scenarios she’s made up about this trip and all the things that could go wrong. I refuse to be an issue, especially considering how high-profile she is. I’m sure Rachel could ruin me.
“I’m still working out your compensation with my publisher, and once everything is confirmed, my assistant will finalize all the fine details with you. Okay?”
“Alright, that sounds great,” I tell her.
“I’ll see you soon. And Maverick, just remember to be on your best behavior.”
I want to explain to her that she doesn’t own me regardless of the contract I signed, but she’s paid me well, and I’m grateful for the opportunity. So I just agree. We say our goodbyes, and I grab my suit jacket and slip it on. Rachel doesn’t take bullshit from anyone, and she won’t take it from me. She tends to be straightforward without a filter, and over the past few years, I’ve learned how to handle her. Pick your battles because you will always lose when going against Rachel.
Not everyone can deal with her no-bullshit attitude, but I’m used to it. She was very particular about which photos were used on her covers, and even though she has a major publisher, what she suggests pretty much goes. The perks of being a best seller, I suppose. Every photo shoot I’ve had, she’s been there to give direction to the photographer. It’s annoying, but I get it. She takes her job seriously and wants to be involved in every step.
I look around the empty hotel room, tuck my phone in my pocket, and head out the door, walking down the hallway toward the elevator. Katie’s long gone by now, and I’m not one to look desperate. Truthfully, it’s probably best we didn’t have dinner—especially with the way she was looking at me. Over the years, I’ve learned how to read a woman like a book. Not to mention, her big brother would have kicked my ass from here to New York if I brought her back to my apartment because things would’ve inevitably escalated. Pasta, wine, and the next thing she’d be in my bed as I give her the time of her life. Not a good idea.
As soon as I step into the elevator, a long-legged brunette eyes me from head to toe. Women love a man in a fitted suit, and I use it to my advantage each time I wear it, though I really don’t need to. Her skirt barely covers her ass, and the heels she’s wearing put her at eye level with me. I flash her a sultry smirk before the doors close. Lust swirls around in the elevator, and I watch her breasts rise and fall as I stand next to her. Her breath hitches when I shove my hands into my front pockets.
“Big plans tonight?” I ask her, trying to be polite, though my thoughts are anything but.
Her pouty red lips slightly part then close as if she’s trying to find her words.
“Just grabbing a few drinks.” She looks over at me, in a cute, sexy way. “I’m Haley.”
“Maverick.” I smile, reaching a hand out to her. “Nice to meet you, Haley.”
&nbs
p; Her chocolate brown eyes meet mine, and as she shakes my hand, electricity flows between us. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but lust? I definitely believe in lust at first sight.
“I know this sounds forward, but…” I watch as she bites her lower lip. “Would you like to join me?” she asks, bravely.
I chuckle, glancing down at her hand before releasing it to check for a wedding ring. I may enjoy having fun and meeting people, but I draw the line at unavailable women.
“Actually, I was supposed to have dinner with a friend, but my plans got canceled. So, why the hell not?” I give her another signature grin, so she knows I’m down to have a good time with whatever she has in mind.
The elevator reaches the lobby, and the doors slide open. Haley walks out and looks over her shoulder, catching me as I take a glimpse of her perfectly round ass. I swear she’s purposely shaking her hips as I walk behind her. She walks to the hotel bar, her heels clicking on the marble floor. It’s late afternoon, and the lights are already turned down low to set the mood. A beautiful woman mixed with alcohol is a dangerous concoction, but I go with the flow and pull out the stool next to her and sit.
“Old Fashioned, please,” she politely tells the bartender.
“Same,” I say. “So you like whiskey?” I turn to her.
“If I’m being honest, it’s my kryptonite,” she admits with a smirk.
I tilt my head at her. “A beautiful woman is mine.”
She laughs as the bartender sets our drinks down. Immediately, she takes a sip. When she sets down the glass, she hooks her finger in and pulls the cherry out, then pops it between her ruby red lips before crushing it with her teeth.
Fuck. She’s pulling out all the stops. Tease.
As I reposition my body, my knee brushes against hers. I place my hand on her thigh, and she scoots closer. The smell of her perfume is intoxicating as it surrounds me.
“So tell me about you, Haley.” I take a swig of whiskey, allowing it to burn as it works its way down.
“I’m here for a business conference. Fly out tomorrow afternoon,” she says. “I’m not married or anything either; in case you were wondering.”
I burst out into laughter. “I wasn’t.” I’d already confirmed that much by no ring on her finger, but I’ve been involved with women who’ve purposely slipped their wedding ring off. I said I try not to sleep with married women; I didn’t say I haven’t—unintentionally, of course.
“What about you?” she asks, taking another drink of her Old Fashioned.
“I live here. Not married either, in case you were wondering. Absolutely one hundred percent single. I’m too focused on my career to get into a serious relationship. I like to have fun. Surf. Workout.”
She smiles. “I can appreciate that.” Haley narrows her eyes at me. “So, are you like some sort of player or something?”
Now I really laugh. “Truthfully, maybe a tad.” I have no reason to lie to her, not when she’s flying out tomorrow. Sometimes one-night stands like this are the easiest because there’s no expectation of the next day, or ever.
She taps her glass against mine and smiles. “Same.”
I kinda figured she was, just by how open she was in the elevator, asking me to join her, and being dressed like that. I’ve met women like her before; they’re a certain breed, and they usually put my playboy tactics to shame. She’s beautiful and could have any man she wants, but tonight she chose me. It’s painfully obvious where the night is heading.
I finish my drink and order another one. Haley does the same. We make small talk, keeping what we share with each other general. Three whiskeys in, or maybe it’s four, and I’m feeling the alcohol stream through my system. Probably should’ve eaten before we started hammering drinks down, but that would’ve been the responsible thing to do.
After an hour, Haley leans over and wraps my tie around her fist, pulling me closer to her. “I’d like to take this off you,” she whispers in my ear.
Gently, I move the hair from her shoulders. “I’m pretty sure I can help make that happen.”
My lips brush against the shell of her ear, which causes her to shiver. Haley removes her tight hold on my tie but continues to lean into me.
“You two want more drinks?” the bartender asks. By the look on his face, he knows where this is leading to as well. I glance at Haley, and she shakes her head and licks her lips.
I hand over my credit card and take care of the tab before standing.
“My room?” she asks with a seductive smile playing on her lips.
I nod, placing my hand on the small of her back, allowing her to lead the way. By the time we make it to the elevator, we’re unable to keep our hands off each other.
“I knew from the moment I saw you, I wanted to fuck you,” she admits, the whiskey making her lips loose. I grab her ass in my hands and crash my lips against hers as the elevator doors close, and we’re shot to the top level. Sometimes it’s not easy looking this good, but it definitely has its advantages. Tonight Haley happens to be one of them.
Chapter Three
OLIVIA
THREE MONTHS LATER
“Olivia, repeat it to me again,” Rachel insists. “From start to finish.”
I force a smile and grab the “Bible” in front of me. Though I have her itinerary memorized and we’ve gone through this several times already, I flip open the planner and read it aloud.
“Friday night before the Dallas signing, you’ll do a private meet and greet with members from your reader group. It’s from six to eight, and appetizers will be served. Drinks will also be available at the bar. We have fifty giveaway bags that include a canvas tote with a book quote printed on the outside, a T-shirt in their size with your author logo, and other pieces of swag items from the Bayshore Coast series.”
“And Maverick?” she asks without a beat.
“He’ll be there to sign anything they have for him as well as take pictures with the readers. That’s what most of them voted on aside from the striptease I vetoed.”
The corner of Rachel’s lips tilts just slightly. “They’re a feisty bunch.”
I hold back a snort. That’s an understatement. They’re certainly fun, though—I’ve been an admin in her social media Facebook group for a while now and schedule posts in there from time to time when Rachel is deep in edits.
“The signing starts at eleven on Saturday morning, so I’ll come down an hour beforehand with Maverick to set up your table while you’re getting your hair and makeup done. You’ll need to be down by 10:45 for the author photo. The VIP ticket holders and volunteers are allowed early entrance at 11:00 to get their books signed and photographs taken before the event starts at noon. There isn’t a lunch break, so I have room service scheduled to deliver brunch at ten.”
“Don’t forget about my dietary restrictions.”
“I didn’t. Low carb, gluten free. I double-checked with the concierge this morning to make sure it’s prepared correctly.”
To say Rachel Meadows is high maintenance is like saying water is wet. Obvious.
“I also packed snacks for the signing in case you get hungry.”
“Great. I’ll chow down on a protein bar in front of a line of readers.” She inhales a sharp, unsatisfied breath.
“You can take a five-minute bathroom break and eat it then, if needed,” I tell her, so she doesn’t get anxious about it. “The signing goes until five. You’ll get an hour to relax, and then you have a six o’clock dinner meeting with Queen B’s Blog.”
I continue with the rest of the ten-day schedule that consists of meet and greets, VIP parties, signings, and meetings between three cities. I worked my ass off to make sure she’d stay busy and get the most out of this trip.
Maybe a little of it was because the busier she is, the busier Maverick will be, and the less I’ll have to “watch” him between events. It’s already bad enough she’s made him my responsibility. However, according to my photographer friend, Presley, who shoot
s at bookish events, the fans need to be watched just as much. She’s told me some stories about women going wild over models and basically giving them lap dances.
I shudder at the image. Mostly because I can’t imagine acting like that with a guy I just met. Sure, he has the classic, panty-melting look—chiseled jawline, six-pack (or hell, maybe even an eight-pack), dreamy eyes, and a come-hither smolder, but that doesn’t mean I’d even remotely consider throwing myself at him. Nope. Never.
God. The more I think about all this, the more I want to start dry heaving and tell her I’m too sick to go. I suck in a deep breath and pretend to sniffle. Is that a cold I feel coming on?
I haven’t been sick in three years. It’d be way too convenient to get something now. Maybe if I hang out in the emergency room for a weekend, I could catch a nice infection that would get me out of this trip. Summer flu is a real thing.
Would that be going too far?
Absolutely.
Shit, shit, shit.
Rushing around my apartment while yanking my shirt over my head, I trip over something and have to hop on one foot until I find my bearings.
Fuck me, that hurt.
I look at the shoe that nearly assaulted me, and instead of chucking it out the window into traffic like I want, I decide there’s no time for that and grab my bags. I’ve been packed for this trip for the past week but had to add some of my toiletries this morning and nearly had to jump on my suitcase to get it to zip up all the way. Today I’m flying to Los Angeles to meet Maverick Kingston, and I’m already dreading it. Fuck my life.
As soon as I’m on the sidewalk, I reach for my phone and realize it’s not in my back pocket.
Oh, come on. Not today!
I am never, never late, and I’m not about to start now. I might not be graceful getting from point A to point B, but I refuse to get off schedule. My Uber is already on the way to take me to the airport so I arrive at my gate on time.
Dragging my bags with me, I rush back up to my apartment, scramble to unlock my door, and look around for my cell.