by Sara Daniel
Mother whirled back. “You mean nothing to him. He won’t stay with you.”
“I know.” Her eyes burned. And she did know in the morning light, separated by scores of city blocks. But when he’d worshipped her with his hands and mouth, when he’d surrounded her with his arms, when he’d fallen asleep against her, she’d believed with all her heart he was the only man for her and would remain with her.
“If you’re going to get your heart broken, at least make something good come out of it,” Mother said. “You’ll never have more influence than when you have him in your bed. Use it to convince him to return to a modeling career.”
Her mother’s passion for her job was returning. She’d begun seeking out clients without Gretchen’s assistance. Without Kyle, though, she wouldn’t be financially stable enough to rent her own apartment for months, maybe a year.
But Mother miscalculated Gretchen’s influence in bed or anywhere else. Gretchen was at the mercy of her desire for Kyle, not the other way around. Even if she did have influence, she wouldn’t taint the precious moments in his arms. She might not have forever, but she could keep the memories, and she wouldn’t spoil them.
***
Half a day and sixteen hundred miles later, she and Kyle checked into a Texas hotel. The moment they locked themselves in their room, he dropped their luggage, stripped off the bottom half of their clothing, and made fast and feverish love to her against the wall.
Then they took turns cleaning up and changing in the bathroom before spending the rest of the day mourning and reminiscing with Brett’s wife, children, parents, siblings, and extended family. When they returned to the hotel, Kyle immersed her in a wonderful and agonizingly slow act of earth-shattering pleasure. Afterward, he spooned her in his embrace to sleep for the night.
“You’re wearing your shirt again,” she murmured. “I don’t think I’ve seen you take it off yet.”
“Sure you have. Lots of times.”
She rolled to face him. “Not during sex.” She rubbed her palms over the bare ass he seemed to have no modesty about letting her ogle and under the edges of his shirt.
He grasped her hands and pulled them to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “I sweat a lot. It can be kind of gross and ruin the moment.”
He wore a shirt all the time because of too much sweat? Yet she’d never noticed stains or odors. “If you can handle the imperfections of my figure, I can handle a little sweat.”
Kyle flipped her onto her back and rolled on top of her, his cock hard and pulsing at her opening. “Your body has no imperfections. Got it? You are beautiful, Gretchen.”
“But—”
“Say it,” he ordered, his tip teasing but not entering.
Oh gosh, he made her insane. She arched her hips, urging him inside. “You’re gorgeous, and you’ll be marvelous even if you sweat through your shirt and have to take it off.”
He kept himself in the same position, refusing to enter and fulfill her aching arousal or back away to end the tease.
She shifted again, but instead of relieving the ache, she magnified it. “I’m beautiful,” she conceded, willing to say anything to receive the fulfillment only he could give.
Kyle thrust, making her feel like the most alluring woman ever as he adored every inch of her.
But his shirt stayed on the entire night, and in the morning when she attempted to enter the bathroom and shower with him, he’d locked her out.
Chapter Five
Gretchen had never been more proud of the brave men and women who protected and fought for the United States than when she sat through the wrenching funeral. Afterward, she stood next to Kyle as he embraced Brett’s widow. “If there is anything I can do for you and the kids, anything,” he emphasized, “just say the word.”
“We’ll manage.” Despite her shaky voice, determination and strength shone from her shadowed eyes. “We’ve already been directed to The Hero Family Fund.”
“Hero Family Fund?” Kyle repeated, tears in his eyes.
But the woman had turned to accept the next person’s condolences. Brett’s family had lines of people offering platitudes and support. None of them had any clue Kyle was just as devastated by the loss of his friend.
Gretchen wrapped her arm around him as they stepped outside. The grip of summer humidity had lessened into the mildly pleasant warmth of fall. “Brett was a hero. He was her hero, your hero, a hero to every American citizen,” she said quietly. “And he will live on in your heart and in the hearts of everyone who knew him.”
“I should have been with him.” Kyle railed at the bright blue sky. “There’s nothing heroic about being an F-ing model.”
What if there was? Maybe she’d stumbled on the motivation he needed. Modeling could be more than a career. With a little creativity, it could support a worthy cause and honor his friend. If she suggested Kyle publicly donate a percentage of his modeling fees to this Hero Family Fund or other military-related charity, he would want for Brett’s sake to take the jobs her mother offered. He could do something meaningful, even heroic, with the gift of physical perfection he’d been given. The agency could even make matching donations and foster a charitable reputation to distance itself from the past scandal.
As they returned to the hotel, possibilities swirled in Gretchen’s mind, but she wanted to research the options before she voiced any. She needed to gather enough information to respond to potential objections and minimize the risk of him shooting her down.
Once in the room, Kyle stripped down to his T-shirt and briefs. “Take off all that black,” he said. “You need color.”
“Maybe I just need to get naked.” She shot him a grin, wishing she could entice him to get all the way naked.
He half smiled around a yawn but didn’t reach for her as he slumped in a chair. She kissed him on the cheek and went to change. By the time she returned wearing a bright orange T-shirt and obnoxious purple shorts, he’d fallen asleep in the exact spot she’d left him.
She debated whether to strip off the rest of his clothes and make love to him. In the end, she let him sleep, hoping the nap would cure his emotional strain along with his physical exhaustion, and turned on her laptop. A couple hours later, she stared at a miracle on the screen.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been working the whole time I was passed out.”
She studied him across the room, his eyes wide and alert. She flashed her brightest smile, more than ready to share her good news. “I’ve been doing something even better. I’ve found a way for you to be a hero being an ‘F-ing model.’”
***
Kyle swallowed, his mouth dry, his heart fluttering with panic. “I’m no hero.”
The designation was reserved for true heroes, like Brett. His name didn’t belong in the same sentence.
“But you can be. Listen. This Hero Family Fund is a real charity, giving scholarships and assistance to the families left behind.”
“I know. I’ve already written a check.” One big enough Gretchen would probably have a fit about what he’d done to his retirement savings if she found out, but he didn’t care.
“You can do more than write a check. Leonidas Russo, the Greek model, is putting together a calendar to benefit the charity. You know Leo. The few times you got passed over for a job, the designer wanted him instead.”
He had worked with Leo on several occasions. They’d gotten along well. Partnering outside the modeling world intrigued Kyle enough to rouse him from the chair. He stretched the kinks from his back, then reached into his duffle and pulled out his glasses to read over her shoulder.
“I didn’t know you had glasses.”
“I get eye strain when I read.”
“Why is this the first time I’m seeing them? It’s not exactly the first time I’ve seen you read.”
“I usually don’t wear them in front of anyone, but you’ve seen me at my lowest. I figure it’ll take more than a pair of glasses to scare you off.”
“Indeed.” S
he clicked to another tab on the computer screen. “I e-mailed Leo, and he’s still looking for models. He jumped at the chance to include you in the calendar.”
The blood drained from Kyle’s head in a dizzying rush as her words penetrated. He gripped the back of her chair to keep himself steady. He wasn’t a boy toy anymore, let alone some boy toy of the month, no matter the impression he’d given over the last few days as her private plaything. “You signed me up for a modeling job? Have I not made myself clear?”
She’d made her intentions clear. Her sole interest lay in putting him back to work earning money for her mother. Well, she might make the agency respectable again, but he’d lost all respect for her.
She swung around in the chair to smile up at him. “This is so much more than a modeling job. You won’t be paid.”
If he didn’t get paid, Zola wouldn’t get a commission either. “Then why are you suggesting it?”
“It’s something you can do for Brett. You want to take care of his widow and kids, right? But he’s not the only soldier who left behind a struggling, grieving family. No matter how much you’d like to, you don’t have the means to personally support every single military widow. But if you lend your face and body to this calendar, the proceeds from people across the country can reach everyone.”
Kyle stared, horror rising in his chest. She was going to convince him. Anything else he could have said no to but not this. He owed it to Brett and their friendship. “Okay.”
She vaulted from the chair, flinging her arms around his neck. “Kyle, this is great. A high publicity shoot for an excellent cause is the perfect jumping off point to rebuild your career.”
He turned his head away before her lips made contact. As much as his heart rebelled against the proof, he couldn’t deny the truth. She might have enjoyed the sex, but she valued his modeling potential more. “And your mother’s career, too,” he muttered.
“Well, yes. What’s good for you is good for her, of course.”
He pulled her arms off him and turned away before his body betrayed him. He still ached for her closeness, despite the revelation of her true intentions. He could not return to modeling where his physical perfection would have to be faked with airbrushing and trick lighting or where his imperfection would be celebrated and exploited for every medical brochure and cause.
Was it too much to ask to be good enough as he was? He hadn’t been for the military. For a while, he had been for modeling but no longer, and Gretchen wouldn’t see the distinction. She aspired to cash in on the dollar signs he represented and secure her mother’s role in the game.
He couldn’t spend another minute surrounded by the proof he’d tried to ignore. Sleeping with her again would only give his heart a chance to fall more completely than it already had, and he needed to do everything within his power to prevent that. “I’m doing this for Brett, not you. And it’s the only modeling job I’m taking.”
He yanked on a pair of athletic shorts and left the room. He wandered the city, trying to figure out what else he could do with his life. Surely, he had another talent he could use to launch an endeavor worthy of his friend’s respect. Sitting at home doing nothing wasn’t an option anymore. Brett hadn’t sacrificed his life so Kyle could waste the future he’d been blessed with.
Kyle returned to the hotel just in time to check out and leave for the airport. He didn’t explain himself to Gretchen. He didn’t owe her or her mother anything. She’d helped him through a difficult weekend. In return, he’d help Zola’s career by attaching his name to this calendar and giving her the credit. Then they’d go their separate ways, and like everyone else Gretchen would be satisfied with what she’d gotten—the use of his perfect body.
When they arrived at his house, she shifted to get out of the car. Kyle reached for her hand to stop her, then retracted, refusing to give in to the temptation to touch her. He settled for shaking his head instead. “You don’t have to come in. I’m sure you need to get back to your place and get settled. You can leave a phone message with the details of the photo shoot. Thanks for all your support this weekend.”
She stared across the car, her brilliant emerald eyes filling with hurt. “You’re dumping me?”
His chest ached in a way it never had, even when it had been physically cracked open. “How can I dump you if we were never together?”
“We were sleeping together. We took a cross-country trip together.”
He looked away. She’d been using him. He was supposed to feel hurt and disillusioned. Instead, he felt like the callous jerk. He might not have an acting future, but he could play the role and give them a clean break, instead of letting her string him along. “We got what we wanted from each other. I’m modeling again, so women will start beating down my door.”
“And it wouldn’t do your image any favors to have a fat girlfriend,” she finished, her voice not bitter, simply defeated.
“That’s not what I meant.” He swung toward her, nearly coming undone by the tears gathering on her lashes. He cared for her too much to hurt her the way she’d hurt him. Despite everything, he’d fallen in love.
“You’re beautiful and sexy exactly as you are,” he said, allowing his conviction to ring in his voice, hoping it covered his breaking heart, a tear no surgeon could repair. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Don’t you dare tell yourself otherwise.”
The problem lay within him and always had. The military had denied him entrance because his body had no value for their needs. Now the modeling industry would realize the same. Without a perfect body, he wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t hide the proof from her anymore, so he had to let her go. He’d take the pain over pity.
“So, then my personality sucks. Well, at least I know you’re not the shallow, self-centered man I always thought you were.” Gretchen laughed without amusement. “See you at the photo shoot.”
He stepped out of the car and slammed the door. “You don’t need to come.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Her voice followed him into the empty house.
***
Gretchen hadn’t seen Kyle since she’d left him at his house following their trip to Texas. The delivery confirmation proved he’d received the information regarding the photo shoot, but she had doubts he’d show up until he walked into the building, females swiveling toward him. Heck, most of the men turned, too.
Despite being jaded by the handsome men who strolled through the building every single day, something about Kyle compelled everyone’s gaze. Gretchen’s was no exception. Before, she’d been able to look away, but she’d transformed into head groupie.
At least she could pretend her interest came from a business standpoint. She ambled toward him. “Thanks for coming.”
He said nothing, his shoulders tense, reminding her he hadn’t wanted her to attend.
The photographer, Melodie Carr, joined them. Gretchen introduced them, then backed away to let the professional take over. Kyle was right. She didn’t belong.
“Come over this way, and take your shirt off. We’ll get your chest oiled and hair styled,” Melodie said.
“The shirt stays on,” Kyle said.
Melodie narrowed her eyes. “I don’t have time for false modesty, and neither do you. If you treat me like a professional, I’ll treat you like one, and we’ll be done by noon.”
Gretchen wondered about the modesty thing. Something distressed him, but she’d never been able to figure out what. Perversely, the possibility gave her a ray of hope. Maybe he hadn’t pushed her away because she repulsed him or because he’d gotten his fill of her body and didn’t want her anymore.
She approached Kyle again. If he’d dumped her over of an insecurity he hadn’t been ready to confide, they still had a chance. It was a long shot, considering he obviously didn’t trust her. But she had to try. This week apart had been the most miserable of her existence. “You’re shooting for a calendar of sexy men,” she pointed out. “It’s all about the eye candy.”
“I know you can.” He could turn a garbage bag into sexy eye candy. He didn’t need to convince her. “Can we start with the shirt on?” she asked Melodie. “Then we’ll take the next step as Kyle gets more comfortable. He hasn’t done a photo shoot in over a year.”
He wouldn’t have to wait long for the next one. The positive publicity and the media interest in the Hero calendar had designers and charities calling her mother all week to pitch projects for Kyle, some offering substantial amounts of money, some wanting his face attached to their organization. He might have left modeling disenfranchised by her mother’s questionable ethics, but he was finally back where he belonged.
Mother had come alive with the flurry of phone calls, immersing herself in the business she loved. Both she and the designers seemed to have forgotten the past actions that had left her shunned for months, and she seemed especially interested in exploring the goodwill and bigheartedness of involving her agency in pro-bono causes.
Gretchen stood far from the studio lights as Kyle posed. In a white T-shirt. With a leather jacket hooked over one shoulder. Astride a motorcycle, a helmet propped against his hip.
“The camera loves him,” Mother murmured, leaning against the wall. “I don’t know what kind of issue he has with taking off his shirt, but his face is the real deal, and he can rock a tight T-shirt like nobody’s business.”
Gretchen watched as he delivered a succession of smoldering, brooding, and carefree expressions on demand. As soon as Mother added these shots to his portfolio, she’d have a full-time job keeping people from fighting over him. Moreover, with her business revving up, she’d move into her own place. A few weeks ago Gretchen would have wept with joy, but the thought of living alone made her feel empty.
Melodie stepped away from the camera. “I got some really good stuff, but we’re shooting for a supersexy calendar. I’d like to have some shirtless poses to add to the mix.”