by Nana Malone
Jasper rolled his eyes. “Okay, fair enough.” He stood directly in front of Abbie, forcing her to take an automatic step back before looking up at him. “But if you come to me, all bets are off.” He winked before turning on his heel and jogging up the stairs to his bedroom.
Abbie couldn’t help the exasperated chuckle. “Is he for real?”
Both Tamsin and Sophie shrugged.
“Yeah, that’s Jasper,” Sophie said.
Tamsin’s phone rang. “You two go ahead. I’ll catch up. It’s Liam.”
Sophie tugged her through an expansive living room into the back hallway that sported two additional bedrooms. “Sophie, this is incredible. Looks expensive.”
“Oh this?” She extended her hand and indicated the living room. “This is all Max. I’m just the girlfriend.”
Tamsin had been vague about the details when Abbie had pressed for information about Sophie’s man. Maybe if she was lucky, she could meet the mystery guy. “What does he do for a living, and where can I get one of him?”
Her friend laughed. “Well, he’s a model.”
Abbie’s jaw dropped. “Of course he is.” Sophie lived one of those fabulous lifestyles you could only read about in Us Weekly.
Quickly, she donned the spare set of jeans and the T-shirt Sophie handed her. She immediately regretted the T-shirt, which had slashes through the sides and was almost completely backless. Sophie usually experimented with designs on her own clothes. “Uhm, thanks, maybe you have a sweater too?” Abbie asked hopefully.
“Somewhere in the kitchen, I think I left my jumper that goes with those jeans. We’ll go look.” She continued happily chatting about Max. “Yeah, the modeling jobs pay nicely because he works often, but in addition, he renovates houses and sells them. And he rents out the spare rooms in this place. It’s got five bedrooms and a pretty nice garden.”
Abbie chewed her lip. That explained a lot.
Sophie shrugged and continued, “You know, he’s a bit of a hustler.”
“Oh, okay.” That was a little vague. But shit, he wasn’t her man, so she wouldn’t complain as long as Sophie was happy.
Although her overactive imagination kept picturing the beautiful living room tossed and destroyed because of a drug raid. In her mind’s eye she could just see the collaged photo, half as it was now and half as it would be after the raid with the mysterious Max sitting in the center of it all. Though somehow as Abbie pictured Max, she interchanged him with the knight in shining armor who’d just saved her life.
Sophie shrugged. “You can call him a bit of an entrepreneur.”
Right. “Well, this place is amazing.”
“Thanks. We like it.”
They heard the front door open downstairs, and Sophie grinned. “That’ll be him now.”
Abbie turned toward the heavy footsteps and stared.
“You must be Abbie. I’m Max.”
Abbie did her best to drag her eyes away from the tall specimen of man that strolled up the stairs from the kitchen with a confident swagger. His dirty blond hair dusted his collar and drifted into his face in thick layers. Wow. She knew women who would kill for hair like that.
His green eyes were lively and mischievous and framed by thick lashes. A strong angular jaw and high cheekbones completed the beautiful picture. The only thing that took away from the image of perfection was the bump on the bridge of his nose, but it made him more mysterious. “Nice to meet you.”
Instead of taking her proffered hand, he enveloped her in a hug that stunned her for a second. Great, another hugger. As quick as it flared, she batted down the irrational fear. She’d really have to remind Sophie that she didn’t like to be touched.
He pressed a quick peck to both of her cheeks. “Welcome to London. You’re all Sophie’s talked about.”
“Thank you. I’m excited to be here.”
Max pulled Sophie against his side as he asked, “You’re coming out with us tonight, right?”
Abbie glanced at Sophie for a little help. “What’s happening tonight?”
“Jasper’s DJing. You have to come. You can meet Lex and the rest of the gang. Say you’ll come,” Sophie pleaded.
Abbie hedged. She wanted to get started on some photos and explore a little. But it was also her first night out in London. And it wasn’t like she was set up for night shots yet, anyway. She was still waiting on her sister to ship some of her equipment. “Not too late, right? I have work I need to start on in the morning.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “You were always so studious. Sure fine. But we’re not taking no for an answer.”
When was the last time she’d gone out on a school night? When was the last time she’d been spontaneous? She couldn’t remember. She’d locked herself in so tight she’d forgotten to breathe and have a little fun.
Thanks to Evan.
She slammed that thought away into a lock box. It was time to embrace her new life and the new her. The new her who went out on a school night. “Okay, but what the hell am I going to wear?”
34
Apparently, Abbie had never been clubbing properly.
She and the girls had headed out with Max and some of the other models to the swank Mayfair neighborhood with its elegant row houses and gorgeous parks. The club had a name Abbie couldn’t pronounce and a line out the door that wrapped around the block. And that was the line for women.
Staring mulishly at her borrowed heels, she’d wondered why the hell she’d let Sophie dress her. There was no way she could endure that line in the four-inch stunners. They were beautiful with their red, black, and gold-braided straps, but she’d be ready to cut her feet off at the ankle before she even made it midway through the line.
Then again, when your friend was an up and coming designer, you let her do things like dress you, even at the cost of your comfort. With the flirty red salsa dress Abbie knew she looked hot. Especially since the damn thing was backless. But the shoes were going to be a problem. Abbie could just picture it. There would be Instagram photos of her running around a London club barefooted, a la Brittney Spears pre-conservatorship. She shuddered.
As it turned out, she needn’t have worried about the line. Apparently, since Jasper was the headliner, and Max and one of the other guys were members of the club, all seven of them walked right in as if they owned the place. This kind of clubbing Abbie could get used to.
Inside, the club was mostly empty. As if the throngs waiting outside had been nothing but an illusion. She leaned over to Sophie. “If there’s no one in here, why the hell do they have everyone waiting outside?”
Sophie laughed. “Image, darling. Only about a quarter of those people will get in because they have the cash to bribe the bouncers. And don’t forget most of those people are for the larger club. This area is more exclusive and private.”
“But what’s the point? Wouldn’t they make more money if they just let everyone in?”
Tamsin and Sophie smiled at her like she was the village idiot. Finally Tamsin said, “Honey, this club has members that pay a pretty penny to keep the riff raff out. Besides, it’s a hot spot for OK magazine darlings and the Royals. The princes have partied here, so have the princesses and lesser aristocracy. Princess Alicia was spotted here last week. You can’t let the general public in with them. It would be pandemonium.”
Abbie blinked. “And Jasper’s DJing here? He must be really good.”
Sophie shrugged. “He is. He creates beats for some local UK artists too. He’s starting to get big.” Her friend assessed her shrewdly. “You’re starting to pay more attention to him now, huh?”
A quick laugh burst out of Abbie’s lungs. “No. He’s lovely, but I don’t buy the flirtation for a minute. I won’t be spending any time in his, erm, DJ booth.”
Sophie cackled. “Don’t let him hear you say that. You’ll only become even more of a challenge.”
“Oh, fantastic.”
Tamsin joined them with three shots in her hands. “Okay, ladies, drin
k up. These are courtesy of Max and the boys at the bar.”
Abbie stared at the purple liquid. “What is this?”
Both of them laughed, and Tamsin just said, “I don’t think you want to know.” Raising her glass to the two of them, she added, “To Abbie. Welcome to London. And to the three of us, together again!”
“To us,” Abbie muttered before tossing back the violet liquid. Surprisingly, it went down smooth and tasted remarkably like grape juice. It wasn’t until several seconds later that a warming sensation started in her belly, then slowly spread to her extremities, making her instantly relaxed and a little numb. “Jesus, Tams, what was that?”
“They call it a Post Orgasm. Makes you feel loose, huh?”
“Loose is one word for it.” Abbie couldn’t feel her fingertips.
Sophie grabbed the glasses and deposited them with a barback who moved through the crowd. “Come on, girls, it’s time to dance.”
Now dancing, she could do.
As they hit the center of the dance floor closest to the DJ booth, Abbie closed her eyes and let the music take over her limbs. Jasper mixed some unfamiliar drum and base beats along with some mild electronica and infused them into dancehall, rock, and popular rap songs.
The only problem was, three women dancing together tended to attract attention…unwanted attention.
It wasn’t long before guys started to join them, dancing in the periphery, then eventually sidling up close. Tamsin and Sophie welcomed the attention. Abbie tried to focus on the music and ignore them. The first guy to slide up behind her had her body stiffening. Immediately, she stepped forward, spun around, and ended up on the other side of their little circle.
The next guy tried a frontal approach. Luckily, she could see him coming and waved him off. Maybe it was time to find Max and the other guys and sit down.
She waved at Jasper, and he frowned but nodded his acknowledgement. Sophie and Tamsin were too occupied to notice she’d slunk off the dance floor. On the edges where it was darkest, she paused and searched for where the guys had gone.
“I figured I’d try something different and ask you to dance.”
Abbie whirled around and let out a small squeak of alarm. The muscles in her lower belly quivered, and her breath caught. Her savior from earlier stood in front of her, looking like a cross between an angel of mercy and the devil incarnate. “We have to stop meeting like this,” she mumbled.
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Well, there’s no rain at the moment, so we should be safe. I trust we were able to save your camera?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Yes. Thank you. Honestly that could have been ugly today. I’m indebted.”
“How about a dance, and we’ll call it even?”
A dance? With him? Pressed up against… “I uh…”
“Now, I’m not as good as you are, so you’ll need to take it easy on me.” He outstretched his hand and waited for her to take it. He didn’t press or push, just stood there…waiting.
Jasper didn’t help her when he switched the track to a dancehall reggae song with a grooving beat.
Butterflies fluttered low in her belly. When was the last time she’d had butterflies? Unfortunately with those butterflies also came fear. The fact was she didn’t know this guy. But, if he’d wanted to hurt you, he could have already.
It’s just a dance. She glanced down at his hand and placed her palm in his. Determined not to be nervous, she smiled up at him. “Hardly seems fair. You save my life and all you get is this dance.”
He drew her close, but not too close, keeping his hands at her waist. He waited patiently until she looped her arms around his neck. “It’s well worth it to me.” The low rumble in his chest as he spoke sent shivers coursing through her body.
As it turned out, he didn’t need any help dancing. He moved them easily in time to the seductive beat. Abbie didn’t dare look around because she knew what she’d find—couples pressed so close that they might as well be naked and in bed. Dirty dancing was a requisite of dancehall music, but her partner kept a marginally safe distance between them, figuratively if not literally, because with every down swing of the base, their hips rocked into each other.
She swallowed hard, but then forced her gaze up to meet his. As soon as their gazes met, her heart rate kicked. His slate gray eyes framed by dark lashes, stayed on hers. Nervously, she licked her lips. He stilled for just a second, causing her to lose her footing and bringing her flush against his body.
She froze, muscles tight. Touching wasn’t something she was used to or allowed easily. But with him, she didn’t want to be anywhere else. He smelled of mint and something crisp and woodsy, like he’d spent the afternoon outside on the water. She released her strangled breath and let her body relax into his. She felt, rather than heard, the low rumble in his throat as his chest vibrated against hers. His warmth enveloped her, and she could tune out everything but him. As if it were only the two of them on the edges of the dance floor.
There, in the dark, in the arms of a relative stranger, she felt safe.
His hands shifted on her waist so his thumbs traced her hipbones, and Abbie forgot to breathe. Wobbly knees forced her to tighten her hold on him. As if responding to her body’s automatic softening, her eyes dipped to his lips.
What the hell am I doing? Her brain tried desperately to take control of the situation. But she didn’t fell like listening. For the first time in longer than she cared to think about, she liked having someone’s hands on her. She wasn’t afraid. Instead, she craved it, that connection. Her body hummed with vibrant sexual energy. An energy she hadn’t felt in six long years. There were nerves, but not from fear or trepidation. It felt good. Better than good. It made her remember how much she needed to be touched. Or rather touched by someone who could make her feel safe.
But just as the last of the tension ebbed out of her body, his thumbs pressed gently against her hipbones, moving her back several inches. He raised his head, and they stood like that for several seconds before Abbie realized Jasper had switched the music. Oh, God. She’d been standing here with a total stranger, practically melting into him.
Heat rushed to her face. “I—”
He smiled, and she was too blinded to finish. Gently his thumbs traced across her hipbones once more, and he let her go. “Thank you for the dance.” Then he turned around and walked away.
Abbie spent several seconds staring after him. What the hell had just happened?
“Hey, there you are.” Tamsin’s voice broke her out of the fog. “Who was that you were dancing with?”
Abbie stared into the crowd feeling empty. “I have no idea.”
35
Two days later, Abbie stood in front of Xander’s door wishing she hadn’t stayed up so late again. She’d need to be careful hanging out with Sophie and crew. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. Come on. Get it together. You’re here to learn. She couldn’t be afraid forever.
Taking one more deep breath to marshal her nerves, she knocked quietly.
“It’s open.”
“Here goes nothing,” she mumbled.
The moment she opened the door to Xander’s office, she felt like she’d walked into an episode of Hoarders. There were piles everywhere and books and boxes of photo equipment. Wow. “Uhm, is this a good time?”
He grinned as he stood. “Of course. It’s your time to use. Here, let me clear you a spot to sit.” Quickly, he cleared a stack of coffee table books off a chair and placed them on the floor beside his desk. “There you go. Have a seat, Little Bird.”
She flushed. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
He plopped into his seat across from her with a lazy ease. “What, Little Bird? It’s how I see you. I go through every single one of the photos that you all submit for review. Occasionally, one or two stand out. From that point forward, I can’t help but look at my students that way, as if that photo encompasses everything they are.” He shrugged. “Hence, Little Bird.”
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There was no way she’d be able to concentrate with him staring at her like that. Like she had his full focus. She tried not to squirm under the scrutiny of his direct gaze. “So, can I ask, what are you looking for in your assistant position?”
His bark of laughter was rich and low. “Right to the point, I see.”
Abbie shrugged. “It’s why I came to London. I want to work with you.”
Something flittered over his expression, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. “I’m looking for a damn good photographer who can put up with me. Right now, all of you show promise, but I think with some hard work, we can make you shine.”
Way to be vague. “I’d just like to know the criteria you’re using to measure my work.”
His lips tipped up in an oddly familiar smile. “Ahhh, the artist with a type A streak. I understand. Composition, command of the light around you, the basics, but to an expert level. I don’t want to be able to tell the difference between your work and an Ansell Adams. But you have to infuse heart into your images. That and confidence. If it’s not there, I can’t use you.”
Heart. Confidence. Considering hers had been ripped out of her chest, and her confidence lay under a pile of shit, she’d have to figure that out. “Okay. I can work on it.”
“So, tell me what you’re thinking of for your first assignment.”
Abbie detailed her plan to photograph the architecture of London and how she hoped to get that gritty urban feel that somehow still managed to convey joy. He listened intently before speaking.
“It’s a decent plan. But honestly, I want to push you outside of your comfort zone. I don’t want you to take pretty pictures of landscapes. Your portfolio was a little light on portraits. Maybe you can try some this week.”
Abbie forced her breathing to even out. Portraits. Absolutely her weakest kind of photos. “I uh—”
“Hold that thought.” He stood and strode to the bookshelf. Xander pulled out a dusty hardcover and handed it to her. Then he got on his hands and knees and searched the lower shelves before finding what he was looking for. “And this.”
His fingertips brushed hers, and she jumped. He immediately withdrew his hand and sat on the edge of his desk, giving her plenty of room. Great. Now he thought she was nuts.