by Laney Castro
Between Heats
Laney Castro
BETWEEN HEATS (Downtown Aquatics #1)
He knew he was in deep water the moment he saw her.
All that aspiring model Madison Thomas wants is for her first big catalogue campaign to go well. What she doesn't count on is an all-American swimming champ and co-model trying to get her fired on her first day. But Madison doesn't back down from a challenge and she won't stop until she gets what she wants.
Aaron Harding has a tough time pretending that he's not attracted to the redheaded model. When she makes her move, he's all too willing to match her stroke for stroke.
Their attraction is undeniable. But Madison has her own game plan to get to the top, and getting entangled with Aaron is one complication she doesn't need.
For Jake and Jen and Nick and Nat
Chapter One
"Step closer, please," the photographer instructed her. "Now, hand on shoulder, that's it… uh, wait, hold that pose. I think we need to adjust the lights."
Madison Thomas gave her partner an embarrassed laugh. She was clad only in bikini bottoms and her breasts were covered by large pasties. Definitely not the kind of clothes she wished she was wearing while standing just inches away from an Olympic swimmer with one of the hottest bodies she had seen. She wasn't going to let this faze her. "These things take forever to start," she said conspiratorially.
But the guy didn't even blink at her. His fingers around her waist were ice-cold, and so was his expression. He stared straight ahead. The only evidence that he had heard her at all was when he replied a blunt, "Yes."
Madison sighed. This was her biggest modeling contract yet—a catalog campaign for Stroke swimwear—but she never expected it to be this excruciating. She and a few other models were appearing with the country's latest Olympic favorite, freestylist Aaron Harding, but as far as she was concerned, he was nowhere near the boy-next-door image that he projected. She was no sports fan, but she had seen photos of him with his wide smile and eyes that crinkled when he did. But today he was curt and standoffish. He barely looked at her, but when he did he would turn away as if he had seen something revolting. At first she thought it was just nerves, but that was until she had seen him joking with the other models during their shoots. Madison had gone through just one set-up with him and already it had been fraught with retakes and miscues, so unlike the easy chemistry he had had with the others earlier. It was definitely messing up her mojo. She had tried every approach there was—cool and professional, friendly, even flirty—but the guy was definitely not a fan.
Great. Just her luck that she'd ended up with Dr. Jekyll and Merman Hyde.
She should have known the day wasn't going to go well. Call time was at 8 AM, which really meant she had to be there by 7. It wasn't just about making a good impression; it was more about braving the morning rush to get to the rented studio in Burbank without breaking a sweat. She had counted on Elliott to give her a ride while her clunker of a car was in the shop, but when she woke up to a pretty direct Hey, will see you at the shoot instead of the expected Pick you up at six-thirty, Red!, she knew she had to hightail it out of her apartment. She had to ask Siri twice for directions.
She made it just before the clients arrived. But by the time she was sitting in the dressing room making nice with the stylist and other models, her stomach's embarrassingly loud grumble reminded her that she had forgotten to eat breakfast. Madison was grateful that her shots with Harding were scheduled for later that morning, so she still managed to call a sleepy Elliott Rodriguez and demand an egg white omelette and a wheatgrass and fruit smoothie.
"But they should have some food there," her booker had protested.
"I can't munch on toast, I'll show in my bikini!" Madison knew she was overreacting but she knew her booker, of all people, would understand. The agency was filled with models on weird diets and preparing for a shoot was good enough reason for the special request. Besides, he was also a good friend of hers, giving her a little more license to demand. "Please, Elliott?" she had wheedled.
Of course, he didn't show up for hours, and not until after Madison had gone diving into her bag and settled for a smushed granola bar. She sent a mental thank you to Trader Joe's, but that didn’t keep her from ripping into Elliot when he arrived.
And now this. It was a shame that Aaron Harding could be so gorgeous and look ramrod-stiff before the camera. He was tall and lithe, with long arms that looked powerful and graceful instead of spindly. His jaw was his most prominent feature, squarish and angled like he meant business (some people would say his smile was the best thing about him but Madison was no judge of that), but it was his eyes that merited a second look. They were a clear gray behind a coat of thick lashes that were criminal on a man with his bulk. If his swimming record brought in the sports fans, then it was his eyes that gave him the fangirls. Only Madison didn't understand why it was like he was posing for a mugshot in every frame they were in. She was just grateful for the break and hoped a little encouragement would ease the swimmer's nerves.
"Is this your first product endorsement?" she forged on, adding a small smile.
Again, Aaron didn't reply right away. "Yes," he finally said, not even bothering to look at her when he spoke.
It was like digging for water in the Sahara.
"Okay, we're back on track!" the photographer said, and Madison heard a few test shots being snapped. "Shall we start again? Madison, a little closer to Aaron, please. Hand on hip and then look here—"
No, this was not how she had imagined her first major campaign to go. She needed this to be good, dammit. She saw Aaron's jaw clench and unclench, which set her on edge. She gritted her teeth and tried to smile sensually as she had been instructed, but it wasn't working.
It was Aaron who broke away first. "I'm really sorry everyone, but can we take a break?"
The photographer seemed relieved. "Okay, fifteen minutes, everyone. Someone, don't forget to mark their spots."
She saw Aaron stalk off to his dressing room. With a sigh, Madison headed to the one she shared with the two other models. Anna Pavlenko was about a year or so older than her, and was also from her agency. Lakeisha Johnson, the other girl, was from a different agency but Madison found the younger girl pleasant enough. Unfortunately, they were still chattering about how nice and pleasant Aaron Harding had been and Madison wanted to roll her eyes. The whole nice-guy thing is just an act! she wanted to shout. He's nothing but a rude ass who’s going to jeopardize my career. Now there was no way Stroke would want her back. But she bit the words back. Instead, she threw a robe over her shoulders and sat down, only occasionally chiming in their conversation as she waited for her shoot to resume.
Madison was cleaning her bag for misplaced energy bars when one of the production assistants came in, followed by Elliott with a wheatgrass smoothie.
"There you are!" Madison sighed in relief, then stopped when she noted the worried expression on her booker's face. "What's wrong?"
"Uh, excuse me, may we have a private word with Miss Thomas?" the production assistant asked.
The other models exchanged worried glances as they left but all Madison could do was shrug in confusion. Only once the door was closed and the production assistant had relayed the message that Madison let loose her shock.
She was going to kill Merman Hyde.
Chapter Two
It was the boner that nearly broke him in two. He knew what he was getting into—knew the redhead was going to be there—but nobody warned him he'd be posing with temptation on two legs, and with only the skimpiest of clothes between them. He didn’t bother closing the door to his dressing room. Being a s
wimmer had made Aaron quite comfortable with his skin; there was no place to hide when you've only got swim trunks on and millions of people were watching the goosebumps on your forearms in high-definition. But add a luscious creature wearing only bikini bottoms to the mix, and he was close to diving into the nearest pool for a cold awakening.
Aaron had no delusions about being a model. All he wanted to do was swim and train. His ascent was slow and steady, but after an impressive showing at Summer Nationals, Pan Pacifics, and his Olympic debut, companies had come calling. Didn’t matter that he only finished fourth in the 100-m freestyle finals and his only medal came from the 4x100-m medley relay. Stroke still courted him with an endorsement deal that was too good to refuse and here he was, a fish out of the water amidst the lights and gorgeous models. Sports photographers and ESPN, he could manage. This was entirely different. It was like being an awkward teenager all over again.
"Focus, Harding," he berated himself, taking three deep breaths and shaking his arms like he did before he stepped on any starting block.
He glanced down.
Nope, not going to work.
"Aaron, is there anything wrong?" Stroke's marketing manager Eliza Caldwell asked. She was flanked by one of the account managers from the advertising agency and a representative from the talent agency who handled his endorsements. All three of them showed mirror images of concern.
He quickly grabbed a robe to wear. The table was stacked with nearly everything he could need and a nearby rack held robes and towels, as well as the suits he was to wear for the catalog. "Hi, Eliza," he greeted. "Sorry, I just need a couple of minutes to uh, get some things out of my system."
Like one redhead with a tight body.
Seriously, what was wrong with him? He was better than this.
"If there's anything wrong, just let us know," his talent rep, Mike Tang, said sympathetically. "We wouldn't want you to be anything less than comfortable with this shoot."
Aaron gave a barking laugh. If they only knew. "It takes some getting used to," he admitted. "I'm really sorry about the delay but I'm glad you guys are being patient with me."
"Anything for you!" Eliza assured him. "Is it the poses? The suit? The model?" Aaron must have winced or something, because she was quick to catch the change in his expression. "Is it Madison? Oh, dear, we thought she was a great fit for you and we certainly liked the work she's done so far with her solo catalog shoots but—"
"We mean, if you feel uncomfortable—" the woman from the advertising agency hedged.
Aaron shook his head. "No, it's fine, we can work through this." He hated disappointing people. It was probably one of the reasons why he had come so far in his swimming career. He hated disappointing his father, then his coach, and then later, the American public. Fourth place still ranked. Maybe disappointing a client didn't rate as highly with other people, but for Aaron it was the same thing. When he went out and did something, he wanted it to be the best job he could do. Now he regretted thinking that modeling was something he could pick up in one afternoon.
"Of course," Agency noted. "But with the schedule, it would be good if we can iron things out as soon as possible."
"It's fine," he said, trying to relax his jaw so it didn't sound as if he were spitting the words out through gritted teeth, even if it felt that way. "I can head back now." And heaven help the art director who was going to have to Photoshop his boner out of the way.
"If it will make you feel comfortable, perhaps we can just try one more frame with Madison Thomas and then finish the rest of the shoot with Anna," Eliza suggested. "You seemed much more at ease with the blonde. Does that sound good to you?"
So her name was Madison. The name definitely rolled off his tongue. He imagined murmuring her name when she put her arms around him and— Damn. There he went again. He thought he was going to have more time to get to know her when he picked her from the Stroke's list of proposed models, but he didn't count on his buddy south of the border to not cooperate when it counted. "All right," he agreed reluctantly.
His talent rep exchanged glances with the Agency, before nodding. "Good. I'll go and fix things and I'll have someone call you when we're ready to shoot. All right, Aaron?"
"Fine," he replied. The three of them closed the door when they stepped out and Aaron tore his robe off and threw it at a chair.
Water. He was going to need water. Lots of it.
Chapter Three
"What do you mean I'm getting replaced?" she demanded. She turned to Elliott, who looked just as miffed. "I didn’t do anything wrong, did I? We signed a contract!"
"And you'll still be compensated accordingly, especially for your earlier work," the production assistant said. "It's just that they've decided that it might be better if Anna be the lead model and your shoots with our main talent were significantly reduced."
"They've decided?" she echoed. "Who's they? The clients? The agency? But they said I did really well in the catalog shoots. They liked me then." A thought came to mind. "Or wait. Did he decide?"
The PA's tell-tale flush was all the confirmation Madison needed. "Mr. Harding merely suggested that he might find it more comfortable working with—"
Madison saw red. She couldn't believe his nerve. She had been nothing but nice to him but he didn't even want to reciprocate that. What's worse, he was taking away from her one thing she had worked hard for these past few months.
Growing up, she knew she wanted to be an actress after seeing a lot of movies as a kid. But she found out how hard it was to get into the industry as soon as she moved to LA from a small farm in Pullman, Washington. She had to take odd jobs and small modeling gigs and before long, she realized that she wanted to have a successful modeling as well. She was lucky enough to meet Elliott early on and became good friends. Through the agency he worked for, she steadily got decent modeling jobs. It was also Elliott who helped her find a talent agency for acting work.
This campaign with Stroke was a really big deal. It didn’t happen to girls like her every day. But just because one hotshot of an Olympian said so, she would lose it just like that.
Without another word, she marched past the PA and headed for Aaron Harding's dressing room.
"Miss Thomas—!" she heard the PA call out but she was already storming down the hall.
She opened the swimmer's door without knocking and slammed it behind her. He turned to her in surprise. He was dressed in the same jammers he had been wearing for the shoot, but he was dripping wet, like had just thrown a glass of water over his head. Droplets clung to his black hair and dripped over his strong shoulders. Her eyes couldn't help but travel over his muscled torso, lingering at the sexy V that disappeared beneath his swimwear. On some other day, in some other life, Madison would have taken a moment to admire that form. But not today.
"I can't believe you!" she exploded, unable to keep the hurt from her voice. "This is important to me!"
Aaron grabbed a towel and held it in front of him, as if in defense. "I—" he said, caught off-guard. "Uh, it's nothing personal. I mean, you're still getting paid."
"That's not the point!" She shook her head. "It was never about the money. This was my first major endorsement, too. I don't know what I've done to deserve this. I can see right through your wholesome, All-American act, hotshot! You've been nothing but rude to me since we first met but I didn't think that you'd stoop so low as to—"
“Rude?” Aaron's gray eyes looked puzzled.
Madison's eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest. The robe slipped from her shoulders and that was when she realized that she was still clad only in her bikini bottom. She groaned inwardly, but held her stance. At least her arms now hid her chest from sight. “Oh come on,” she accused him. “You've barely spoken three words to me at the shoot, even after everything I did to get you to talk and relax. What, I didn't even merit any kind of courtesy, and then this?”
Surprisingly, Aaron flushed redder than she had ever seen him. He licked his l
ips and she watched his Adam's apple bob in a sexy swallow. “You distract me,” he said in a low voice.
“I—what?” That was the last thing Madison expected to hear. And it was suddenly making her insides turn into mush.
The swimmer took a deep breath and released it in a long hiss. “You distract me. You saw me out there. I couldn't concentrate on anything. At first, I thought I could handle it. Believe it or not, Stroke made me choose which of you three I'd like to be the main female model and I chose you.” He clutched his towel tighter. "But when you walked on set looking like, well, that”—he gestured towards her—“I realized I made a big mistake.” He met her eyes. “I'm sorry. I really tried to focus but I guess I got all stiff whenever you were close that I knew I had to do something. We have a shoot to finish. I wanted it so that you could still be paid as if you were the main model because I like you too much but I didn't consider that you'd feel bad about losing the role and—”
“You like me?” she echoed dumbly. Way to hear what you want to hear, Red.
A flicker of a smile ghosted over Aaron's lips, so quickly that Madison wasn't sure if she had seen it. “I've made a mess out of things, haven't I?” Aaron sighed, his face still flushed. “I'm sorry, I really am. I was going to ask you out after this to explain things but… I've really messed it up, huh?”
“You were going to ask me out? You have a funny way of showing it.” Don’t look at his eyes, Thomas, don’t get charmed, don’t… fuuuuuck.
“This is the part where you call me an idiot and that you never want to see me again.”
“You're an idiot.” But her mind was racing before it finally reached a decision. Madison stepped towards him. “But we're going to spend the next five minutes getting to know each other before you make your mind up.”
Aaron groaned. “Damn it, Miss Thomas, I'm telling you now that talking to you is not going to make things any easier.”