by Virna DePaul
“My problem? What is yours? You can’t make up your damn mind out there. I’m not going to keep taking photos if you keep changing every little thing just because you’re pissed about what happened between us.”
“I am not changing things for that reason!”
“Oh really?” I step toward her, crowding her into a corner. “So you’re just doing it to be helpful? I highly doubt that.”
She looks like she wants to slap me. She even raises a hand, but I catch her wrist. I push her into the corner, our bodies touching now, and I don’t let go of her wrist.
“Tell me, Heather. Would you be such a huge pain in my ass had we never met? Had I not fucked you in a public dressing room until you had to stifle your screams? Tell me that.” I let go of her wrist, but only so I can move my hands to her waist. “I think you’re just embarrassed that I’m here. That you actually have to see me again and face what we did.”
“I’m not mad.” She says the words in a growl, like a wolf, and I laugh.
“You sure about that, sweetheart?” I trail one of my hands up her torso, brushing against a nipple that’s peaking against the fabric of her top. “I think you’re feeling some kind of emotion.”
“You’re horrible.”
I shrug. “If I were so horrible, you wouldn’t have let me fuck you yesterday. You wouldn’t have found pleasure in my arms. I know it, you know it. We both know it.” I kiss her throat, so pale and smooth, and then I bite her hard enough to leave a mark.
“Caleb…”
I push my iron-hard cock against her pelvis, and she gasps. “I’ve thought about you a lot. I wanted to see you again. Does that make you feel better or worse?”
She shakes her head. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie?” I push my cock harder against her, moving down to pull up one of her legs against my hip, opening her to me. “I enjoyed our time together. I want more. And I think you do, too.”
She doesn’t deny it. How can she? She’s practically writhing against me, and I laugh, low in my throat.
“God, sweetheart.” I rub myself against her. “If we didn’t have a crowd of people out there waiting for us, I’d fuck you again right now. Hell, I’d do it anyway. I don’t care if everyone hears us, hears you screaming my name.”
She’s trembling. “You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t tempt me.” I cup her cheek and, against my better judgment, I kiss her. She moans my name and I lick inside her mouth, telling her once again that she’s mine. I’ve claimed her, and I take her mouth like a conqueror.
Finally, I let her go. She slumps against the wall.
“I’m going to have you again, Heather. But that is wholly separate from what is going on today, and I need you to let me do my job.”
Her mouth, kiss-bruised and red, turns into a thin line. “Fuck you, Caleb. Johnny. Whoever you are.” She stalks out of the room, looking like she could poison me tonight without any regrets.
I can’t help but smile, thinking about how I can channel all of that rage into the next time I fuck Heather Flint.
Chapter Nine
Heather
I’m going to kill him. I’m going to strangle him, and make him beg for his life, and make him apologize for turning me inside out and upside down, the arrogant, self-centered, asshole—
“Heather?” Tanya touches my arm. “You okay? Where’s Johnny?”
I wish I could tell her I killed him and subsequently threw his body into a dumpster in the back. I force a smile instead.
“He’s finishing up. I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”
I walk away from Tanya before she can ask me more questions. I hear Caleb return, and I’m sure he’s smirking.
Of all the nerve! To act like I’d still want to have sex with him after everything that has happened! I’ve never met any guy I hated more. He’s lower than low. Lower than a cockroach. At least cockroaches serve some kind of purpose. Caleb Johnson serves no purpose except to drive me absolutely insane.
“Let’s get going,” I say to no one in particular. I pray to any god listening that Rebecca Harris doesn’t notice that I’m trembling and red-faced.
“Ready when you are,” Caleb drawls behind me.
I turn, my fists clenched. Instead of the caustic reply I’m about to give him, I say to the models behind him, “Please get ready, you two.”
The shoot continues as if there was no interruption. Even though I see tiny details I’d like to change, I decide to let things go for now. Caleb gets back into his photographer zone, and as I begin to calm down, I’m able to see his vision more clearly. I admit that he was right that my initial thoughts were rather boring. I wouldn’t go so far as to say they belonged in a JCPenney catalog—I bristle at the idea—but gazing at the models now, I can see why he thought changes were necessary.
We finish the next set. Caleb hands me the camera to look at the photos.
Glancing through them, my anger fades somewhat. I have to admit, they’re gorgeous. “They’re beautiful photos,” I say. I try not to let our fingers brush as I return the camera. Any touch is like an electric current between us, even when I still want to throttle him.
Caleb smiles wryly. “I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in that sentence.”
“It’s just not what I had envisioned.” For some reason, I need him to understand what it means for me to let him lead in this way. To change something as important to me as how my designs are presented to the world.
He shrugs. “Maybe your vision needed to change.”
Ugh, didn’t we already have this conversation? How does he not get it?
I can feel a headache building in my temples. “Look, I know you’re a great photographer, but these are my designs. My clothes, my accessories. I know them inside and out. You’re just taking photos of them.”
I can see his hackles rise. I probably shouldn’t provoke him again, but apparently when it comes to this man, I have no self-control.
“If you just wanted some guy with a camera, you should’ve hired some guy off of Craigslist,” he says in a low voice.
“I’m not insulting your talent. I’m just saying that maybe your ideas weren’t in line with mine.”
“And I think you’re being stubborn for no reason.”
I make a sound in my throat. I want to slap him! I wish I had earlier. “Are you trying to be an asshole again?” I say. “Because if so, you’re succeeding.”
“Being right doesn’t make me an asshole.” He shows me the photos again. “This is art. This is what this spread should be. This is what gets printed in a magazine like Bella. Not some shots that my dad could take with his eyes closed.”
“Okay, now you’re really being an asshole.”
He rubs his forehead. “Look, Heather.” He steps toward me, and I’m suddenly overly aware of how tall he is, of how muscular he is. Of how his hair curls and touches the back of his neck, of how stubble dots his jaw. Of how his hands roved all over my body yesterday. God, you’re gorgeous, his voice echoes in my mind.
“I think you just need to let go,” he finally says. “I know you can. You did yesterday.”
His voice is silky soft. I’m trembling again, like a leaf in the wind. My head hurts, but so does my heart, because I don’t know how I feel about this man. One minute I want to kiss him, the next I want to shake him.
“Then let’s keep going,” I say, turning away before I can see his triumphant expression.
It seems like ages, but the shoot finally wraps up. I thank all the models, shaking hands with each one, and Tanya and the rest of the staff whisks them away to get changed. Rebecca and Catherine are currently in close conversation. I hope it’s not how they think the designer is completely off of her rocker.
“Here.”
A camera is shoved in front of me again, and for a second, my brain doesn’t compute. I glance at Caleb. He just raises an eyebrow.
“Here, look at how the last set came out,” he adds.
I ta
ke the camera. My heart’s hammering, and I feel sick. What if I should’ve spoken up more? What if the overall photos are nothing like I’d envisioned? The thought of my designs being ruined sends my anxiety into a tailspin.
I flip through the photos slowly, absorbing them. My initial fear slowly fades away as I look at them one by one. My breathing slows.
I realize with a start that they’re even better than the earlier photos from today. Those photos were beautiful. These photos are transcendent.
When I look up, I can tell by his face that he knows I’m impressed. I return the camera.
“They’re great.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Just ‘great’? Really? I have a hard time believing that.”
“I said they were great. What else do you want from me?”
“God, you are the most confounding woman. Can you really tell me that when you looked at those photos, you didn’t feel something deep inside? That you weren’t transported somewhere?”
I bite my lip, because that’s exactly what I felt. I shrug. “Not everyone can be as brilliant an artist as you.”
He curses underneath his breath. Looking around the store, I realize that we’re almost alone, as Rebecca and Catherine have gone into the back with the models, and the rest of the staff is either outside loading equipment or in the back helping the models.
I feel a touch on my arm. I whirl. “Don’t touch me!”
Caleb rolls his eyes. “Stop acting like you don’t want me to touch you. You were melting against me just hours before when I kissed you in the back.” He moves closer to me and his breath fans against my face. “I bet if I reached down inside your panties, you’d be wet for me.”
I gasp. “Of all the—”
“Stop it with the outrage. I already know your game.”
“I don’t have a game!”
“Yes, you do, even if you don’t know you’re playing it. You’re digging in because you don’t want to admit you could be wrong. You’d rather believe everything you do is golden.” He brushes his thumb across my bottom lip. “Newsflash, sweetheart: that isn’t how the world works.”
“You are the most arrogant—”
“So you’ve said before.”
“—man and I never want to see you again. Ever.”
I’m breathing fast, and Caleb suddenly looks as angry as I feel. How did I ever think I was attracted to him? I hate him!
“Despite what I said earlier, the feeling’s now mutual, sweetheart. I have no interest in getting my balls kicked in by a woman when I can find plenty who’d do something much nicer to them.”
I hear someone approaching, so I bite back my retort. Caleb walks away, and although my heart sinks, I tell myself it’s for the best. We’d make a terrible couple: apparently when we’re not sneaking into dressing rooms to fool around, all we do is fight. Besides, I know what happens when you date while trying to get ahead in your career. You end up having to choose one over the other. Bo dumped me for that very reason, saying that I could either have him or my career.
Naturally, I chose my career.
Add the fact that Caleb is a total playboy manwhore? One who works with models every single day? Yeah, I have no illusions that what happened yesterday was a one-time deal. I’m not going to cry over it, even if I feel like my heart’s breaking, realizing that I’ll probably never see him again.
“So, that went really well, I think.” Tanya looks up at me.
I really don’t want to talk to my assistant and friend right now. “I guess so,” I say quietly.
“Even though you and Johnny just about murdered each other.”
“He’s an annoying man.”
“And yummy besides.”
“Tanya, you’re not helping.”
Tanya smirks, and I have to stop myself from strangling her. She’s way too perceptive. Did everyone else here notice the tension between Caleb and me? God, I hope not.
“You said you two met on the plane ride here,” she says casually. “But by ‘meet,’ did you really mean, ‘we enjoyed the Mile High Club together?’”
I whirl on her. “Tanya!” Now I’m blushing, which makes my guilt all the more apparent.
She hoots. “You didn’t! Heather Flint, spill the deets right this second!”
Luckily, there are people still finishing and packing up, and Rebecca Harris takes me aside for a chat. I’ve never been more grateful for an interruption than I am right then.
Rebecca gives me some logistics about seeing the finished project and how I can be in contact with Bella in the meantime. I appreciate what she’s saying, but Caleb uses this moment to walk up to the pair of us.
“Rebecca, Catherine was looking for you,” Caleb says, only looking at me. “She had some question that I had no idea how to answer.”
Rebecca raises an eyebrow, but she leaves us alone for the time being.
Caleb holds out a hand. “I wanted to call a truce,” he says. “I think we ended up making a good show of it, no?”
I take his hand, although part of me wants to fling it away in disgust. “If you call arguing the entire time a good show, then yes, I agree.”
“If you didn’t irritate me so much, I’d think you were hilarious. Anyone ever tell you you should go into comedy?”
“No, you would be the first.”
His eyes narrow, but to my astonishment, he presents a portfolio to me—my portfolio of new designs, I realize with a start.
“You know, I was looking around for a pen, when I came across this. I thought, ‘would Heather Flint leave her designs out in the open like this?’ Come to find out, she would, and she did.”
I try to grab the portfolio, but he raises it above his head. I want to slap him, I’m so angry.
“Give those back. Those are private.” I try to grab them, but the stupid man is too tall.
He laughs. “Keep that up, sweetheart, because I’m enjoying the view way too much.”
I flush, realizing he’s watching my breasts bounce as I jump. Breathing hard, I glare at him. “Give. Me. The. Portfolio.”
“I will…but for a price.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to admit that the photos were more than good. They were amazing. And I was right.”
I grit my teeth. Would it be a terrible idea to knee him in the groin right now? I consider it, but as if sensing my desire for violence, Caleb lowers the portfolio and steps back just slightly.
I try to grab the portfolio again. I fail. He grins.
“Fine,” I say in a low voice. “You were right. The photos are good. Now, can I have my designs back?”
He considers, then he finally hands over the portfolio. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I hope you fall into a manhole,” I say scathingly.
He just laughs.
I flip through the designs, afraid he’s snagged one for some reason, but they’re all there. I let out a sigh of relief. These are designs I haven’t shown anyone yet. They’re works in progress, and I must admit, I’m extremely proud of them so far.
Caleb looks down at the drawings. “If it makes you feel better,” he says, “these designs are pretty impressive.”
I glance up, surprised. Did he just compliment me? “They are?”
“Very. Especially this one.” He pages to a gown in the back of the portfolio. “This one caught my eye the most. It’s ethereal yet…imposing.”
My heart’s pounding, but for a very different reason now. “That’s what I was going for. I wanted to try something different from my usual designs, but it’s difficult not to stray too far away from what you already know works. But I’ve always loved gowns like this…” I trail off, suddenly embarrassed. Does Caleb really care about my design?
But he’s watching me intently, and once again I’m struck by not only how handsome he is, but how intelligent he is, too. He knows art, and he understands what I’m talking about. Bo never understood my love of fashion and design, and he’d dismiss
it as frivolous. But Caleb, he gets it. He sees it as something important. My heart swells at the realization.
What would it be like to have a man in my life who gets this part of me so intrinsically?
Caleb opens his mouth to say something, but I hear Catherine call out to him, “Caleb, we’re heading out.”
“I’ll be right there.” He gazes at me, and I’m torn between wanting to ask him to stay and wanting to never see him again. He looks similarly torn. Finally, he brushes a finger across my cheek and smirks. “See you later, sweetheart. Try not to get too high in the instep without me.”
I bat his hand away, and my irritation with him comes back in full force. “Go to hell, Caleb Johnson. I hope I never have to see you again.”
He just smirks. “Don’t make promises that you can’t keep.” He blows me a kiss and walks out, cocky as ever.
I’m standing there, my fists clenched and my face on fire, when Tanya returns. She gives me a onceover, but when she’s about to ask me what happened for the third time, I hold up a hand.
“Not now, Tanya.”
I hear my assistant mutter, “I wasn’t going to,” as I stalk to the backroom.
Chapter Ten
Caleb
“Good news. I booked you with another client out here in LA, so I’ve changed your flight,” my agent, Owen Kiss, tells me at the crack of dawn. I’ve been with Kiss Talent Agency for over five years now, and Owen is one of the best agents in the business. He and his brothers, Declan and Hunter, are celebrities in their own right, representing everything from football stars to rock royalty to regular creative types like myself. “Oh, and I reserved you the rental house off Sunset since it’s cheaper than a hotel. Talk to you later.”
I hang up and collapse back onto the bed. I was going to fly back to New York today, although there was definitely a huge part of me that didn’t want to.
I guess my hope came true, didn’t it?
I sigh, in desperate need of coffee. My body is still on East Coast time, and although it’s only 6:00 AM here, my body is convinced it’s time to get going. I decide to get coffee on the way to my meeting, checking out of the hotel since I’ll be going to the rental house my agent got me in the evening.