“How do you do this?” She glanced back at him and promptly closed her mouth when she realized it was hanging open.
Malik leaned his back against the wall, watching her, his sleepy eyes not so sleepy anymore. Definitely more attentive. “I get an idea, and then I start working.”
He seemed so nonchalant, while she was overwhelmed by his talent. Maybe she’d been wrong about him. She ran a finger over a piece in the shape of a horse with a curled tail. It was about four feet high. “What’s this made of?”
“Fabricated aluminum and barbed wire.”
“Huh. How would you define your style?” Lindsay ran a hand over a metal piece that existed in the form of prongs reaching toward the ceiling. The tip of each one was painted an electric blue color. The design simultaneously reminded her of fire as well as the ocean.
“I tend to get inspired by nature. Water, trees, animals. Living out here, there’s plenty of inspiration.”
Lindsay nodded. She could see nature in the work. She wandered through his workshop, which looked like a disorganized gallery exhibition. There were so many pieces—small, medium-sized, and large.
One sculpture was painted brown at the bottom with green pieces that appeared to be suspended in the air above it. Edging closer, she saw the green pieces were connected by fine wire. A tree with leaves.
“The Miami buyer pulled out of purchasing that one,” Malik said.
“It’s nice.” She swung around to face him, still standing near the door. “I had no idea you’d created this much work. This is what you do all day?”
He laughed, and the deep, sexy sound rumbled in her lower abdomen. “Pretty much. Keeps me out of trouble.” He rested the hammer on a table next to a sculpture that looked like a giant flame, as tall as he was, and he was several inches over six feet. “I was working on this when you arrived. I’m putting the finishing touches on it now.”
“Do you have a portfolio online?”
“No.”
“A website?”
“No.”
“Instagram?”
“No.”
“You realize those are the basics if you want people to see your work and buy it? How else are you going to sell your sculptures? You definitely have talent, so why aren’t you out there hustling?”
Malik shrugged. “I’m not a salesperson. I suck at that kind of thing.” He appeared way too relaxed. Meanwhile, he probably sat on a gold mine.
Lindsay rested both hands on her hips. “You’re one of those people who’d rather do your art and let someone else handle everything else?”
He laughed, and his dark brown eyes lit up. His laugh was very male, extremely sexy, and made her shift her stance to ease the unexpected throbbing the sound created. “Something like that.”
He had a gorgeous smile. Her gaze lowered to the full beard and mustache that encircled a pair of lips that were indecently thick and sensual-looking. She bet they were soft. She wanted to lick them.
“So you’re the typical creative type. You’d rather be alone for hours in your workshop than spend time around other people. Am I right?”
“Nah. I like being around people when it suits me. I’m just focused right now on…other things.”
Something about the way his heavy-lidded eyes assessed her with a quick flick from head to toe gave Lindsay pause. Heat flashed across her cheeks and neck. She knew when a man was checking her out, and Malik was definitely checking her out. Odd, considering in the past he infuriated her by treating her more like a mild nuisance than the vibrant, sexy woman she was.
“That’s all well and good, but what do you plan to do with everything you’ve created? Who’s going to see them if you don’t get out there and mingle and—God forbid—sell yourself?” Lindsay arched a brow.
He rubbed his right hand along the left side of his beard, and a slow smile drifted across his full lips. “I guess that’s where you come in. Are you going to talk to Nina and help me sell that tree sculpture?”
Perhaps it was because earlier that day she’d experienced a lackluster sexual encounter, but Lindsay wondered how Malik would be in bed. His hands were so big and his fingers long and broad, expansive enough to fully cup one breast or strong enough to restrain her. Unlike Devon, she knew Malik wouldn’t disappoint. Just the thought of his stroke left her breathless.
Right then, a brilliant idea came to her out of nowhere. Standing before her was the solution she’d been searching for ever since she received Hal’s text.
She looked Malik up and down in his wrinkled shirt and washed out jeans. He wasn’t well known or tied to anyone that she was aware of, and physically, he was perfect. She had to work on the presentation, but lucky for her, she had plenty of time to work her magic. He would do.
“I might be able to help,” Lindsay hedged. “But I have a teensy-tiny favor to ask of you. Before I tell you what I want, you have to promise to keep an open mind.”
His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he didn’t say a word.
“I want you to pretend to be my fiancé.”
Malik’s eyebrows shot upward. “Your what?” The question ended on a laugh.
Time to get down to business. Lindsay marched over to him and straightened her shoulders. “Hear me out. The arrangement would be a win-win. I have a dating book coming out. You may have heard of it—The Sexy Diva Talks Dating. Anyway, it turns out for some crazy reason my publisher and agent think I’m engaged. They want me to do a photo shoot with my supposed fiancé. It’ll solidify the fact that I’m a true relationship expert because voilà, I’m in a great relationship myself. All we have to do is pretend we’re madly in love with each other.”
“Is that all?”
That was sarcasm. She distinctly heard sarcasm.
“Mhmm. So, rather than break their hearts and risk having egg on my face, I was thinking you could come to the photo shoot. I need your services for one hour. In exchange, I’ll talk to Nina and get your sculpture in front of the right person.”
“Wow, that’s a great offer there, Lindsay.”
“I know right. What do you think?” Lindsay held her breath.
“What do I think?” Malik smiled, but barely. Just a tiny movement of one corner of his mouth before his lips settled into a neutral position. “Hell, no.”
Chapter 3
Oh how he loved sundress season. Lindsay had come by wearing a black and white striped sundress that clung to her hourglass figure in the most distracting way possible, and Malik had a helluva time concentrating on the topic at hand.
“But you don’t know what’s in it for you.”
“You told me. Not a damn thing.” What a waste of time. He was going to strangle Stephan.
“That’s not true! I’ll talk to Nina. I’ll do what I can about the tree sculpture, but I can’t make you any promises.”
“Exactly. Meanwhile, you want me to run around town pretending to be engaged to you? No thank you.”
“You don’t have to run around town. You only have to take a few pictures with me.”
“Not interested.”
Pretending to be Lindsay Winthrop’s fiancé—with her sexy ass—was not the way to sell his work. There was no guarantee talking to her sister would even help, and he needed the money from the sale of the tree sculpture, fast. He was almost out of cash, and more than anything, he wanted to start paying back the money his uncle had loaned him to get started in his craft.
“How about I sweeten the deal,” Lindsay said, a hint of desperation in her voice.
She caught his attention. Why would Lindsay, of all people, need a fake fiancé?
Beautiful women could be found anywhere, and in a city like Atlanta, a night out at the club, a lounge, or any restaurant in town meant a bevy of beauties were always on display. Yet among all these women, Lindsay stood out. She was show-stopping pretty with bee-stung lips and sultry, hazel eyes. At one time he’d thought her long lashes were fake, but they were completely natural.
She was also
tall, wearing heels that added another three inches to her five-foot-nine height. Her height was the first thing he’d noticed about her when they met a few years ago. Despite being model-tall, she wasn’t model-thin. She had meat on her bones. Her thick thighs were obvious in the form-hugging dress, as was her fleshy ass and his favorite part of a woman’s anatomy—large breasts.
Her straight hair was cut super short and highlighted the beauty of her round face, dyed an eye-catching golden blonde today, but he’d seen the color range from jet black to platinum blonde over the years, as if she couldn’t settle on a color. Or maybe she didn’t want to.
“Sweeten the deal how?” Malik asked.
“I could pay you.”
She was definitely desperate. This photo shoot was way more important to her than she originally let on.
“So the relationship expert doesn’t have a man?” Malik didn’t ask the question to be malicious. He was genuinely perplexed why someone who looked like her and gave advice needed to pay someone to pretend to be her fiancé.
Faint color surfaced under her reddish-brown skin, which reminded him of terra cotta tile. “This may come as a surprise to you, but not every woman needs a man. I’m perfectly satisfied by myself and wouldn’t bother with this ridiculous ruse if it weren’t for my publicist and the publishing company making a gross mistake about my relationship status. So let me worry about that, okay? Do you have a girlfriend I should be concerned about?”
“I haven’t agreed to anything.”
“Humor me.”
“No.”
To honor his dead mother, he’d promised himself he would concentrate on his craft. At the thought of Bessie Jones, his chest constricted as if someone had tightened a band around his torso. Thirteen years and her death still caused him so much pain. He rubbed the area where the ache resided.
To keep his mind right, he stopped chasing women and ended up refraining from sex completely. He hadn’t set out to be celibate, but being celibate meant his head was clearer, and being disciplined meant he got more work done. After years of wasting time and being unfocused, he fell into a routine of abstinence, and before he knew it, three years had gone by and he owned a large collection of pieces. Except for the occasional urge, which he handled himself, literally, he no longer craved sexual contact the way he used to.
“A secret wife?” Lindsay asked.
“No,” Malik said dryly.
“Good. Then there’s no reason we can’t move forward. Like I said, I’m willing to pay you—a reasonable sum, of course—for your time.”
“I’m listening.”
“Two hundred and fifty dollars. What do you say?”
Malik thought about the warning on the water bill and the monthly payments he’d only recently negotiated with the power company. Two hundred and fifty dollars would hardly put a dent in his expenses. If only that tree sculpture sale hadn’t fallen through.
“Five hundred,” he countered.
Her mouth fell open. “Five hundred dollars? You’ll only be there for one damn hour. That’s not reasonable.”
Malik shrugged dismissively. “You’re the one who asked me to help. Not the other way around.”
She pressed a hand to her forehead, sighed, and then threw back her shoulders like someone preparing for battle. “Five hundred it is.”
He should have asked for more, but it was probably best that he quit while ahead. He knew Lindsay’s type. Sweet as sugar, sexy as hell, but with a hair-trigger temper that meant she could snap at any minute. Women like her excited the hell out of him.
The night he and Lindsay met at Stephan’s, she pressed her soft body against his and made an offer he’d found almost impossible to resist. You’re so damn hot. Let’s fuck. She’d whispered the words in his ear and he’d felt them all the way to his groin.
Lindsay had an amazing voice—low and husky, like someone getting over a bout of laryngitis. Perfect for radio. He could listen to her read the ingredients on a box of cereal. Ever since that day, he couldn’t help but wonder how husky her voice would get when she was pinned beneath him, begging for more.
But he’d turned her down. Not because he had any real willpower, but because he’d recognized she wasn’t in her right mind when she made the offer.
“Malik?” She dragged him back into the conversation, staring at him expectantly. “Do we have a deal?”
“Where will these photos end up?”
“They’re for promotional purposes only. They might end up in a magazine or two, but that’s it.”
He didn’t know if she was telling the truth, but he needed the money.
“We have a deal,” he said, against his better judgment.
“Excellent!” She slapped her palms together, lips stretching into a broad grin that transformed her face into a bright expression of excitement.
The expression gut-punched him, leaving him momentarily without breath and staring. Meanwhile, she twirled—that was the only way to describe the movement—in the direction of all the sculptures.
“I’m going to take some pictures of the tree sculpture.” She tossed a look at him over her shoulder. “You should really get online, but I’ll let you worry about that. Do you go by a pseudonym, or…?”
“Malik. That’s it.”
“Malik. I like it.” She shifted her gaze back to the artwork and started snapping pictures.
If Lindsay could get him in touch with the right person, he’d be one step closer to living his dream of being a self-employed artist. He’d sold a few small pieces before but hadn’t made much money. He needed to pay his bills, pay back the loan his uncle gave him to start his business and fix up the house—which had been deemed uninhabitable when he inherited it—and put away some money for a rainy day.
Tilting his head, he licked his lips as she snapped photos, droning on about how she’d take care of buying the engagement ring, but he half listened. He was too busy assessing the curve of her waist and the bow-shaped hips his hands had traced the night of Stephan’s party. Damn, she was fine.
As an introvert, he’d needed time alone away from the din and partying to recharge, but Lindsay had found him crashing in one of the upstairs bedrooms and climbed on top of him. He couldn’t forget how her soft body had felt in his arms or how close he’d come to giving in right when he’d decided to take a break from dating. If anyone could make him relapse, Lindsay could.
Malik shook his head and shifted his stance to alleviate the heaviness in his groin area. One hour. That’s it. Quick and easy. Done and done.
Except a knot of unease settled in his stomach, and he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d gotten himself into.
Chapter 4
What are all these people doing here?
Malik stood at the entrance to the photo studio, observing the frenetic activity. A photographer and his assistant calibrated the cameras while two more people worked on lighting the faux living room with a burgundy Chesterfield sofa and the wall of art behind it. This was quite a production, and he rolled his neck, decidedly uncomfortable but remembering what was at stake.
He caught sight of Lindsay and was struck speechless. She sat before a mirror, eyes closed, as a makeup artist brushed her face with loose powder. She wore a long-sleeved white dress whose hem landed halfway up her crossed thighs. She paired the outfit with red heels and hoop earrings. She looked exquisite.
Malik breathed heavily through his nose and reminded himself the shoot was a one-time thing. He walked over as the makeup artist finished and left Lindsay alone.
“Hey, you made it,” she said in a breathy voice that sounded relieved. She licked her already moist lips that were covered in dark red lipstick.
“You doubted me?”
“You never know. You weren’t exactly excited about doing the shoot. You look nice.” She stood, taking in the black shirt, black jacket, and tan slacks.
As if he’d had a choice. She’d told him what to wear and not-so-subtly hinted that he needed to
trim his hair and beard.
He skimmed the outline of her body, admiring the way the soft fabric hugged her hips and showed off her pretty thighs—that he wanted to spread wide. He stepped close. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Real sweet,” he murmured.
Truthfully, nothing about Lindsay appeared to be sweet. Not even her perfume. The aromatic scent filled his nostrils and conjured fantasies of sweat-drenched sheets and husky moans. He smoothed a hand over the curve in her lower back and stopped right above her round behind. He couldn’t seem to help himself.
She laughed shakily and edged away. “Slow down. The performance doesn’t start yet.”
“I want to make sure I give off the right vibe. After all, we are madly in love.”
She cleared her throat. “Take it easy, okay? By the way, this is the ring you bought me.” Surreptitiously, she showed him her left hand and the rock on her finger.
“Nice.”
“You have good taste.”
He glanced around the studio. “There are more people here than I expected. This doesn’t look like a simple little photo shoot that might appear in one or two magazines.”
“It doesn’t?” Lindsay studied her red nails.
“Lindsay,” Malik said between tight lips. He stood directly in front of her and blocked out everyone else present. “What didn’t you tell me?”
“Five hundred dollars. Five hundred freaking dollars. Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does matter. Where will these photos be shared?”
“You can’t back out now.”
“Oh, so you think I’ll back out after you tell me the truth?”
She glanced around his body to make sure no one was paying attention to them. “So maybe I told a little white lie.”
“How many white lies are there? Because I’m fairly certain your publisher and publicist didn’t just get a crazy idea that you have a fiancé. They got it from you.”
Wild Thoughts Page 2