by Sharan Daire
He kissed my palm, and I curled my fingers around his face.
“Hold,” Chris said again, his voice closer, vibrating with intensity. “Close your eyes, Shel. Sink into the touch. We’ll battle for you. Carry you. Treasure you. Every step of the way.”
His words made me tremble. A tear escaped my eye, trailing down my cheek.
“Fucking hell,” he growled. “Is that a happy tear, or a sad tear?”
I couldn’t help but laugh, breaking the spell. “Happy.”
“Good.” Derek tipped my chin up further, straining my neck back over the armrest. And then he sealed his lips over mine.
5
Shelby
Two Weeks Later
If one of the guys asked me one more time if I knew whether we were pregnant yet, I was going to make him move back into his own damned cabin.
I didn’t feel any differently. My breasts weren’t any bigger or swollen. I technically wasn’t late for another three days.
Deep down, I was terrified. That it would be positive. That it would be negative. I would feel terrible if I’d stirred everyone up with hope that we’d be bringing a new member into our family, and then my period started.
Which that was a whole other thing to figure out. I hadn’t even known them long enough to figure out the logistics of having my period when I was sleeping with four men.
I had to admit that the ridiculous questions they asked about pregnancy told me the sad state of Missouri’s sex and women’s health education. The twins at least had experience with Angela’s pregnancy, but even they thought we’d have to stop having sex after a month or two, for fearing of hurting the baby. Excuse me, sirs. I hadn’t been celibate for years, and then finally have not one but four men who knew exactly how to please a woman, eager to show me all the things, only to then lose that again. No thank you.
My libido was making up for that miserable dry spell of my unhappy marriage. We were still figuring out the logistics of who slept where and how we’d rotate so no one felt left out. Chris had planted himself squarely in the master bed with me, and no one, least of all me, argued his right to be there. He’d made the lodge possible and was the head of their friend group. If I really was pregnant, then he was the biological father. He had a right to be as close to me as he wanted to be.
We’d slowly settled into a routine. I’d enrolled Bubby in the local school, and Taylen picked him up each morning. One of the guys always stayed behind with me at Canyon Rock until I was ready to head up to the lodge with Allie. Surprisingly, that was Chris most of the time, though he was always up at the crack of dawn. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure that he slept much at all. Every time I woke up in the night for one of the kids or to use the bathroom, his eyes were open as soon as mine were.
Most mornings, I found him bossing around the architect and contractors who swarmed all over the opposite side of the house. He had it sealed off with plastic and wouldn’t let me see what he was doing. I had no idea that remodeling was so noisy and messy, but since we were up at the lodge the rest of the day, it wasn’t so disruptive that we needed to move.
Today, we were supposed to meet the professional photographer Chris had hired. If I’d been nervous my very first day of modeling, then today I was a complete basket case. It was one thing for Chris to snap sexy pictures of me and his friends. But I wasn’t too keen on a stranger witnessing that level of heat.
Deep down, I was sure that I’d be exposed as a complete and utter fraud. I wasn’t a real model. I’d never aspired to such a lofty dream job. I couldn’t help but secretly think that Chris only liked me in his clothes because of our relationship. I wasn’t anything special.
He could have a thousand better models than me. Someone who actually knew what she was doing! This professional photographer was going to take one look at me and realize the truth.
I was an imposter.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chris snapped, giving my chin a good shake. “If you don’t trust yourself yet, at least trust me. I know what I see when I look at you. I just need someone with the camera skills to show me how to reveal it.”
Kaleb pulled up in a black SUV to take us up to the lodge. He helped Allie up into the high vehicle, while Chris opened my door on the opposite side.
She stared at a contraption in the seat. “What’s this?”
Kaleb helped her up in it and put on her seatbelt. “It’s a booster seat so you can see better. See? It’s up higher and keeps you safe.”
A sudden wash of shame and guilt flooded me. Once Allie outgrew her toddler car seat, I hadn’t bought a booster. I hardly ever took them all with me in the car anyway, I’d reasoned. It was better to invest the money in a new pair of shoes that she desperately needed than a booster seat that would sit unused ninety percent of the time.
Until we’d driven all the way from Texas to Missouri without one.
She was four, going on five, so she definitely wasn’t a baby anymore, but she should have been in a booster all along.
But she also deserved three hot meals a day and a roof over her head. Most days I could manage one or two hot meals, but sometimes all I had until payday was a peanut butter sandwich, and it’d been all I could do to keep from getting evicted. Those painful choices were unconscionable. No parent should have to choose between food and keeping her child safe in the car.
“You okay?” Chris asked. “If you don’t like this guy, I’ll fire him on the spot.”
I forced a smile. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. It’s me I’m worried about.”
He stilled, eyes narrowed, chin jutted out with determination. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t do it. End of story. I’ll come up with a different idea. I’ll take some fucking classes until I’m better.”
“Sorry, Alliebear,” Kaleb said, giving Chris a warning look. “Someone’s grumpy today.”
“I want to try,” I assured him. He had invested so much time and effort into this new line. I wasn’t going to be the one who ruined it for him. “It’s just nerves.”
I could tell by the fierce chasm between his eyes that he wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t push it more with Allie listening. The drive up to the lodge took just a few minutes. We’d made the trip dozens of times already. But today, I felt nauseated. Maybe I should have tried to eat a little something, but I’d been too nervous.
Both men kept giving me concerned, speculative looks. I knew they were worried about me, but it still annoyed me enough for me to snap, “It’s not morning sickness. I was too nervous to eat the very first day. Remember?”
Allie ran off with Miss Maggie for the day, while I went to the now-familiar spa area that Everett was expanding into a permanent service the lodge would offer. I hoped he hired the same team full time, if they were available. They always made me feel so pampered and at ease, even with a rolling tummy and trembling fingers.
Evidently I was pale enough that Everett sent word to the kitchen and Sally made me a breakfast feast. Scrambled eggs, a toasted English muffin slathered with butter, and a lovely fruit salad. I managed to pick at it while Sagarika did my hair.
I wasn’t sure what kind of shoot Chris had planned for the day. Evidently nothing too formal, because the team gave me a fairly natural look. Rather than a rack of dresses to pick from, the only clothes behind the privacy screen were the red lingerie set I’d worn before, though at least the flimsy see-through negligee had been replaced with a thicker non-transparent black silk robe.
My hands were clammy as I slipped into the bra and tied the robe shut. Maybe the food had been a bad idea.
As I stepped into the workroom, I fought down a surge of panic that almost sent me racing out the door. I could do this. Chris needed me. He needed me to step up and be the model he needed for his line. If my sexy, fierce Marine believed in me, then I had to believe in me too.
I wasn’t broke-down Shelby any longer. I belonged here. I had people who loved me. Kind, generous, gorgeous men.
Short-tempered
men. Oh no. Chris was already scowling at the man he’d hired before we even started.
Another wave of panic tumbled through me. What if he’d shown the man some of the pictures he’d already taken, and the man laughed in his face about his so-called “model?”
As always, Chris seemed to have an alarm sensor in his body that told him when I was near. He whipped his head around as I stepped into the room. “Say that again where she can hear you.”
The man turned to face me, a stack of what I assumed to be printed photographs in his hand. “Magnifica.”
Chris snorted. “That’s not what he said before you stepped in the room. He said you were magnificent despite my clearly amateur photography skills.”
Stunned, my step faltered a little, as if the earth had slipped a degree off its axis. I didn’t know Italian or French or whatever that word was… but it was close enough to magnificent for me to figure it out.
Me. Magnificent?
No way.
Everett’s other hand closed over mine on his arm, steadying me. “See?” he whispered, giving me a knowing smile. “I told you so. We all did.”
Chris introduced us. “Shelby, this is Paolo Rossetti. Paolo, this is my heart and soul, Shelby Kent.”
His words made my throat squeeze shut and tears burned my eyes. Old broke-down Shelby wanted to insist he meant the heart and soul of his line only, but the intensity in his eyes told me otherwise.
Paolo held out his hand, drawing my attention to him. Shorter than Chris and nowhere near as ripped and intense, the photographer had dark hair and eyes and medium build. Nothing remarkable really. But as I gave him my hand, I couldn’t help but see the spark in his eyes. A burning light of excitement. The kind of look a sculptor would give to a brand-new block of raw marble. As if he could see the statue waiting to be uncovered, only by him.
He bent over my hand but continued to study me, as if memorizing my facial structure and measurements with only his gaze.
“I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms. Kent. Do you walk?”
Confused, I looked to Chris for help. Obviously I walked in here, so he must mean something else entirely.
“We’ve only worked on photoshoots so far,” Chris said. “My focus has been on getting together a portfolio for advertising.”
“Hmm, yes, but…” Paolo’s eyes narrowed with speculation. “Put her in one of your best dresses and let me see her runway walk.”
My eyes flared wide with panic. “I don’t have a runway walk.”
Ignoring me, Chris snagged my arm from Everett and led me over to a rack of his designs. “Yes, you do. How hard can it be? Just walk, babe. Do you have a dress you’d prefer to wear?”
My heart felt like it was fluttering in my throat, a frantic bird trying to escape the cage of my chest. Runway? Like walking in front of people in ridiculous heels? “You pick.”
He grunted softly. “Then the red velvet. It’ll put you at ease.”
It was such a ridiculous remark that I could only let out a high-pitched laugh and shake my head. Nothing was going to put me at ease. Here I’d been so worried about the pictures, and what a stranger would think of all our sexy shots with the guys, and now they’d leaped to me actually walking up and down a narrow runway in stilettos? I was going to kill myself, or at least break an ankle.
He pushed me behind a privacy screen set up in the corner and handed me the dress. I glared at the dress that had started this whole nightmare. What had ever possessed me to pick slinky red velvet? I was going to end up buried in this thing.
I slipped into the dress and stepped out for him to zip it for me. I hung on his arm wobbling on one foot to get the high heel straps buckled. “Does my contract cover medical expenses if I break a femur?”
“Yes, of course,” Everett said way too seriously.
Chris gripped my chin and pulled me up close so he could glare down at me from a mere inch away. “You’re beautiful. Just walk to me, babe. You see me? You walk to me.”
“Pretend it’s the wedding,” Ev added. “I’ll be the best man.”
I had a sudden flash of the four of them in their gorgeous tuxedos all waiting at an altar for me. Flowers everywhere. Outdoors. Allie skipping down a red carpet slinging flowers, Wally right beside her. Bubby looking a decade older in a matching tuxedo with the guys.
Me. Walking toward them in a vision of fluffy white. Designed by my husband-to-be himself.
Chris nodded and released me. “That’s my girl.”
He and Everett walked back over to Paolo. Turning back to me, Chris radiated intensity, as if by will alone he could steady my ankles and give me the perfect sway in my hips. And maybe he could. He’d certainly worked a ton of magic in my life already.
I sucked in a shaking breath and locked in on his dark gaze. My first step wobbled a little, but I didn’t look away from him. Radiating intensity, he sucked me in like a black hole. Always the most dangerous man in the room. The one who’d be the first to step in and solve a problem, no matter what it might be. Or how expensive.
The man who’d sit with my scared daughter in the middle of the night and read her a silly book. Build a fantastic luxury lodge in the middle of nowhere for his friends to live in and run. Start his own fashion line. Learn sewing, photography, and who knew what else. So he could stand here and watch me wear one of his dresses with a world-famous photographer.
“Sì,” Paolo said in a low, oddly fervent voice. “Again. Only more sexy. More sway. Seduce him all over again, Ms. Kent.”
I shook my head a little, breaking the magnetic pull of Chris’ gaze as I turned and walked back the opposite direction. More sway. I could do that. Taunt him a little. That could be fun.
Glancing back over my shoulder. Just a peek to see if he was still watching.
Of course he was.
I reached the privacy screen and turned back around. This time, I concentrated on being a little looser, though I kept my eyes locked on Chris. I wanted to see his eyes flare with heat. His mouth tighten. The groove between his eyes deepened. I was still six or seven feet away from him when the sole slipped out on my right foot. Just enough to send me skidding.
I had visions of me stumbling and windmilling across the floor. Falling off a stage while camera bulbs flashed all around me. Ripping the gown. Breaking the shoe and probably a bone. Smacking my head on the floor. Bloodying my lip or busting my nose.
But no. I shouldn’t have been worried. Not with a Marine watching my every move.
Chris caught me up against him, the hardness of his body pushing out my air, but infinitely better than hitting the floor.
“Sorry,” I laughed shakily. “It’s a little slippery.”
“I can fix that,” he replied gruffly.
“Very good,” Paolo said, though I had a feeling that he was just being nice. “Could I talk to you a moment, Mr. Blakely?”
“Of course.” Chris set me away from him, holding my arms until he was sure I had my feet under me. “Ev, call the make-up team in. I want a more smokey, sultry eye.”
I tried not to react as he moved away with the photographer, despite the dread rolling around in my stomach. I’d failed. Tripping like that was a kiss of death for a runway model.
It shouldn’t bother me. I’d never in a million years even thought about walking at some fashion show. It was a miracle that Chris even wanted to use me in his advertising. Taking some pictures for him would be more than enough. A dream come true.
I just hated that I’d let him down.
6
Chris
I was an arrogant sonofabitch but when I fucked up, I fixed it. Bringing in a world-class photographer to capture the look I wanted for Shelby was a blow to my pride, but ultimately, the best thing. For her and the line. She didn’t have a fucking clue how gorgeous she was, especially in my dresses. And if this asshole was too big an idiot to see what I could see, then I’d hire someone even better than him.
I would have the best for her,
but he’d damned well have my kind of vision too. Or he wasn’t the best.
I didn’t say anything to Paolo as we stepped outside the workroom. If he was going to seal his own death warrant, as far as I was concerned, he’d start by digging his own fucking grave.
He waited until I shut the door. “Sir, do you know what you have in her?”
I nodded slowly, still refusing to give him any words. Though if he were smart, he’d see the razor-thin line of retribution burning in my eyes.
“She’s raw, but I can work with that. Combined with your gown, she is…” He kissed his fingertips.
And I knew, then, that I had absolutely hired the best man for the job. “You see it, then.”
He looked at me like I’d called Paris a cesspool. “Only a blind man wouldn’t see it. So sensual, earthy, and yet somehow innocent at the same time. A woman’s body embraced and enhanced by gowns meant to showcase a woman’s curves. It’s absolutely spectacular. However, as much as I love my job, and love seeing my photographs in advertising, you limit the success of your line if you only keep her in print. I can capture a heartbeat on the page, an instant frozen in time forever. But in person, you can see her heart beating. It is so much more.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“New York Fashion Week.”
I wasn’t an easy man to surprise, but in that instant, D could have sacked me into next week.
Sure, I’d dreamed of seeing my line succeed. New York Fashion Week was the pinnacle of American fashion. I would love to show there. Someday.