Valentine Hound Dog: The Hart Family (Have A Hart Book 2)

by Rachelle Ayala

  “I have no clue,” Jenna admitted, in case Carmen thought she had actual money to pay her, too. The interns worked for free and Jenna had had to borrow money to pay for unexpected expenses. Her boss had given her a budget, but that hadn’t included top photographers like Gustave and the champagne and caviar for the A-list celebrities who’d get private showings before the after-party.

  “Let’s get these mannequins to the gallery,” Jenna said. “Carmen, go get Irina in case anyone wants a live model.”

  Jenna couldn’t pay for all the models to stay for the after-party, so she chose one to change into anything the guests wanted to check out further. They were invited to touch and examine every aspect of her design while she answered questions.

  She rushed to the clothes rack and grabbed another one of her creations, a dreamy piece in a pale pink chiffon, with a granite grey plaid twist up her left side, past her collar and covering part of her face. It contrasted the soft femininity of her desires and wishes with the hard work and strength she needed to succeed in her line of business.

  A makeup artist took over after she’d fitted on the gown, which had a gathered waist on one side and straight lines on the other. After he was finished, Jenna spritzed herself with whatever cologne happened to be nearby. She dabbed her skin dry and had a hair stylist put her hair in an up twist to further show off the elevated swoosh.

  She was not exactly a model—but this design emphasized the curves she carried and gave the illusion of length and height from the Glen plaid flourish to the straight line down to the floor. Jenna was rather proud of it, and had held this one from the show, preferring to show it on her body at the after-party.

  * * *

  “Sorry, sir, but your dog isn’t allowed in the gallery.” A guard stopped Larry from entering the after-party.

  “He’s one of the models,” Larry said. “I’m pretty sure the designer wants him in there for the photoshoot.”

  “I doubt it.” The guard said, playing with his walkie-talkie. He connected to someone and said, “There’s this ugly dog out here. The dog tender says the designer wants him in the gallery?”

  “No animals in the gallery. There will be food served and that’s a public health violation,” the voice crackled back.

  “Thanks.” The guard cut the conversation and reattached his walkie-talkie to his hip. “Health regulations. Besides, that’s a butt-ugly dog. What’s she modeling in there? Houndstooth blanket coats?”

  He seemed to think he was funny and laughed loudly.

  Larry turned away and petted Harley. “Just for that, I’m going to get myself a houndstooth jacket. Let’s take you back to the station.”

  He hated to miss the after-party, but he didn’t fit in anyway. Besides, Jenna would be busy showing her pieces to fashion editors and prospective buyers. He could hopefully catch her tonight before she went to sleep, maybe take her out for coffee and dessert.

  “Hey, there’s the champ!” Chad, one of the firefighters, came toward him with a high-five. “Ten thousand bucks. Wonder how Connor’s sister’s going to come up with that?”

  Larry slapped the man’s hand and gulped inside. He’d been so proud of being the winner of the bachelor auction that he hadn’t considered whether Jenna could pay. As far as he could tell, she seemed to be well off—always wearing the latest styles and jetting around the world.

  Was a date with him really worth ten thousand when she could have gotten it for nothing?

  “I wouldn’t worry about Jenna,” Jackson, Chad’s engine partner, said. “I’m sure Chief’s not going to make her pay.”

  “Then she gypped the blond.” Chad whistled long and low. “That one was going to pay nine thousand bucks. Wish she’d bid on me.”

  “She’s too smart for that.” Jackson punched Chad’s burly arm. “Probably saved all her cash for the last hero on the list.”

  “Least you didn’t get a married woman,” Chad grumbled, rubbing his arm.

  Connor swaggered up and clamped Larry around the shoulder. “Hey, bud, you had women all over the auditorium fighting for you. How does it feel?”

  “Good, I guess.” Larry’s stomach twisted at the thought of Jenna going broke to pay for him.

  “Does Jenna have to pay?” Jackson said. “Can’t believe she bid so high when she has Larry eating out of her hand already.”

  Larry’s muscles tightened and he shot Jackson a glare before watching Connor carefully. Part of him didn’t want Jenna to pay, if she couldn’t afford it, but then it would be cheap if she bid knowing she didn’t have to pay.

  His buddy pursed his lips. “Rules are rules. She bid and she has to pay. Maybe she wanted to show her boss how much her fashion show made for charity. I don’t know, maybe her company will pay and write it off.”

  “Sure wish that model had bid on me,” Jackson said. “I got picked up by an investment banker. Rebecca Morley. I don’t know, but she looks like a man-eater.”

  “At least yours isn’t married. I got Jen Jones Jewell,” Chad said. “For our date, we’re doing a Valentine Party for her kids. What about you, Connor?”

  Connor removed his sunglasses and wiped his forehead. “I got my ex-girlfriend.”

  All the men’s jaws dropped—and Larry’s slammed to the pavement. From what he knew, Dr. Elaine Woo had dumped Connor years ago, but his buddy had never given up on her. Interesting.

  “What a slam,” Jackson said. “Sorry, Chief. Are you happy about it?”

  “It’s for a good cause and that’s where it’s ending. We’re going to a Valentine fundraiser for our date. Since I’m Chief, someone’s got to do the hard job.”

  The men laughed, well, not Larry. His insides twisted for his buddy. Even though he didn’t know Connor growing up, he’d seen the aftereffects—the one night stands and the isolation Connor suffered, even from his own family.

  “Guys. I’m going back to the station,” Larry said. “They don’t allow dogs at the after-party.”

  “You don’t have to go. I’ll take him back,” Connor offered. “There’s nothing I like less than being stuck with the phony fashion pack.”

  Larry handed Harley to Connor. “Do you like him?”

  Connor lifted the puppy and shook him gently. “I wouldn’t have picked a basset hound, but he’ll do.”

  He’ll do?

  “Yeah, kind of a lame dog for a bunch of firemen,” Chad said. “I’m thinking we should get a bull mastiff.”

  “Too big,” Connor said.

  “What about a pit bull?” Jackson cut in.

  “Or a regular old Dalmatian.” Connor stared at Harley, his forehead wrinkled. “But if we’re stuck with you, we’re putting you on a fitness program. Jumping, running up and down the steps. Dude, you gotta stop tripping over your ears.”

  “Wait.” Larry held up his hand. “Basset hounds shouldn’t be jumping up and down. They have a long back and can get slipped discs and other spinal injuries.”

  “You’re a dud,” Connor said to the puppy. “You mean you can’t even hop onto the fire engine?”

  “He’ll need help,” Jackson said. “A pit bull’s way better.”

  “I like Harley.” The pit of Larry stomach dropped and his heart clenched for the poor little puppy. “Besides, you should support his hind legs when you pick him up. He’s really good with kids and a loyal companion.”

  If they didn’t want him, maybe he could get Harley back. If only he hadn’t been so quick to give the puppy to Connor so he could avoid his sister. That had been stupid.

  Connor tucked the hound under his armpit like a football and cocked an eyebrow at Larry. “We’ll take good care of this little fellow and make him fit to be a firedog.”

  Whatever that meant. The three firemen waved goodbye to Larry and swaggered off, tough and strong. The illusion was over. For a brief moment, Larry had been on stage with them for the fashion show, but no more. He was only a lowly janitor at an elementary school, and even though Little Harley had enjoyed following
him around after school to clean up the classrooms, his destiny was to sit proudly on top of a big red fire engine and keep the men company on those long, lonely nights when they slept at the station.

  “Larry, why aren’t you inside?” Jenna’s voice sailed out the door of the gallery. She came flying at him, dressed in a flowing pink cloud with a piece of gray plaid twisting up one side of her.

  “I, uh, they wouldn’t let Harley in.” His lips felt dumb, like they were frozen in place. She was gorgeous. How could he tell a woman who made every cell in his body zing and jitter that she was beautiful? She knew it already.

  Jenna tugged at his hand. “I need you inside for the photoshoot. Do you like my gown?”

  Larry swallowed and nodded. The back was open and dipped down like a V, showing the graceful length of her spine. As for the softer side, it hugged her curvy breasts, gathered at the waist, and waterfalled to the floor.

  He stepped into the gallery and was ambushed by camera flashes.

  “Stand over here, you, and put your hand on the curve of her back,” Gustave barked orders. “Lean closer. No, not like that, I want a more subtle lean, a blending into her. Not that stiff. Okay, look into her eyes like you worship her.”

  Shot after shot was taken from every angle. Larry could feel the sweat popping from his face, but in between shots, an assistant dabbed their faces.

  Jenna was relaxed and loose, placing her hand where instructed, bending or twisting. Whether in a demure pose, or an aggressive one, she flirted with him, raising an eyebrow, winking, or even running her tongue lightly over her well-glossed lips.

  If he wasn’t so nervous, he would have enjoyed it.

  “Now, I want you two to kiss,” Gustave said. “Pretend we’re not here. I’ve seen you in the park. That was hot. So hot. Go ahead.”

  Larry’s neck was stiff. He swallowed deeply, but was frozen in place. How was he going to kiss her with an audience of photographers?

  Jenna touched his face, the scarred side, and closed her eyes, lifting her chin, offering herself. She was so beautiful, so exquisite, like a blooming lotus over the grey plaid lily pad, and Larry took the plunge. He dipped her and kissed her, forgetting the multitude of flashes, exploding so fast it was like a string of strobe lights over them.

  All he knew was Jenna, the woman he loved, who accepted him—for what reason, he didn’t yet know, but she wanted him to be her partner. Of all the men in the show, all the firefighters, all the male models, she chose him.

  And that made his heart fall and fall and fall, totally and completely in love with her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Great, great, that’s hot,” Gustave said. “Now, step aside and turn around, pretend you’re fighting. Cross your arms.”

  The photographer’s assistant pressed the curve of stiff plaid away from Jenna’s breast so she could cross her arms without crushing it.

  Jenna was used to people touching her, examining the dress she was wearing. She was, after all, a prop. They weren’t brushing their fingers over her breasts, but rather rearranging the elements of her gown to best proportion and angle for the picture. Gustave grabbed her and lowered one shoulder while a makeup artist reapplied her lip gloss.

  Larry, however, wasn’t used to modeling clothes, and she could feel him struggle to control himself, especially after the hot kiss they’d shared. No doubt, he’d put everything into it. So had she, but as soon as Gustave told her to turn around, she’d automatically disengaged from the pose and snapped into the position for the next pose.

  “You, place your arm like this,” Gustave said to Larry. “Turn your face into the shadow. Good, good, keep it halfway like that.”

  Snap. Snap. Snap. The flashes were blindingly fast while Gustave kept talking.

  “Light and dark, like the Phantom of the Opera. Anyone have a mask for him? Turn around now and hide your face behind the gray twist, that’s great. Peek out from it. You’ve a handsome half-face and this works so well with her half light and half dark gown.”

  Gustave grabbed Larry to turn him so that his left side, the scarred side, would be juxtaposed against her dark side.

  “Great. I want some shots of his ugly side.” Quint, the fashion editor, twirled his hand. “This is brilliant. Beauty and the Beast. Jenna, I think you have a hit. Who would have thought?”

  Flash, flash, flash. The cameras kept snapping and no doubt, videos rolled from the spectators.

  Jenna’s hackles bristled at the way they spoke about Larry, as if he were deaf and dumb. This wasn’t going well at all, and she’d have heck to pay later on, convincing him of his inner beauty.

  She broke her pose and stepped away from Larry. “I’m finished here. You have enough shots, and I need to speak to Aleen over there about that red dress.”

  Without looking back, she walked away determinedly. The last thing she needed was to embarrass Larry and act as if she had to protect him. Hadn’t Connor said Larry didn’t need or want her protection? So she’d act the prima donna and stop the photoshoot instead of going all Mother Hen over him.

  Jenna caught up with Irina who was standing in front of the pop star and her people, modeling the red and black flamenco dress.

  “I’m so please to meet you,” she said to Aleen. “Do you have any questions?”

  “Will you be able to fix this up for me to wear for Valentine’s Day? I’ve a concert in LA.”

  “Of course. I’d be glad to.” Jenna swallowed her disappointment, since she had been planning on wearing the red flamenco style dress at the Valentine Dinner and Ball. “I can work on it tonight and tomorrow. Will you be around tomorrow evening for a fitting?”

  “You can bring it to me right before my flight down to LA.”

  “Great. Let’s get your measurements. You enjoying the party?” She signaled to a waiter to pour champagne for the pop star and her entourage.

  The rest of the evening was nonstop selling, schmoozing, and taking congratulations. She was surrounded by people, rubbing elbows with celebrities and famous designers, or their minions, as well as speaking to the fashion press. Of course, she was photographed everywhere she went.

  Every time she looked for Larry, she found him hidden in the shadows in a corner, his eyes never wavering from her. She didn’t know if he was upset or waiting it out, but hopefully, he’d wait for her, because he was the only man she wanted to go home with.

  Champagne was flowing. Caviar made its rounds around the room, and right after the mayor’s speech, she caught a break from her pack since everyone was busily interviewing the mayor and asking if San Francisco could someday become a fashion hub.

  Jenna made a beeline for Larry, who’d been sitting at the end of the bar near the restrooms.

  “Whoa, little lady, where are you off to so fast?” Quint flapped a magazine open into her face. “Check out this full-page spread. Looks like your ex, Evan, has parlayed his Esmé award win into a triple-page spread in Vogue. Look what he says.”

  Jenna’s blood pressure shot to the roof, and she grabbed the magazine, staring at the words Quint pointed to.

  Her evil-ex Evan Edwards was quoted as saying: I credit my success to knowing real women with body flaws and designing to enhance and cover those flaws in an aesthetic manner. My relationship with Jenna Hart has given me ample fodder for those full of attitude and curves.

  “Ample fodder?” Jenna sputtered.

  “I’ll say, he got the attitude part right.” Quint chuckled. “I think you should get back together with him. He just threw you a bone. There’s nothing like a little firefight amongst designers to boost both of your profiles.”

  “The only thing that ass is getting from me is a knuckle sandwich.” Jenna flipped through the pages full of disgusting photos of Evan lounging around in a designer robe, chewing a cigar with his hair slicked back, trying to look like one of the Mafioso pretty boys.

  “Don’t be so impractical,” Quint said, as Gustave snapped a few pictures of them talking. “He’s
the Esmé award winner. People pay attention to him. You ought to make hay while there’s hay to be made.”

  “I agree,” Gustave said, putting his camera down. “As successful as this show was, you don’t have the creds he has, and if he wants to work with you on attitude and curves, which from what I see, you got plenty of, attitude, I mean, then you should have your people call his people.”

  “I refuse to play his game. If bringing me up in this article is an invitation to get robbed blind, then color me stupid if I’m going to fall for it.” Jenna shoved the magazine back into Quint’s hands. “I have a man I’d rather hang with than sleaze like Evan.”

  “Oh, speaking of,” Gustave said. “How are you going to pay for him? Weren’t you so broke you borrowed money from me?”

  “Me, too.” Quint held his hand out. “When do I get my cut? Or were you paying me back tonight?”

  “You told me it was his turn,” Gustave said. “But when we get to Milan, I might consider a few nights of benefits to forgive your debt.”

  Jenna’s blood boiled, but she couldn’t tell them off—not yet—not until they’d written up her show and posted all the photos for the look-book. She feigned a nonchalant smile and fluttered her hand at the two. “Don’t worry. I always pay my debts.”

  “I knew you’re good for some good, old-fashioned debt forgiveness.” Quint took her hand and kissed it, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “I’m next in line,” Gustave said. “Dally too much with him and I’ll be forced to charge interest.”

  “Sure. I’ll catch you in Milan.” Jenna had no intention of catching him anywhere, least of all Milan. “Make sure I have the most fabulous photospread, and you, Quint, I want to see an early draft.”

  “Be glad to show you tonight, after a nightcap in my room.” Quint let her hand down, but not before rubbing her palm with his thumb in a slow, sensuous manner. His leer turned into a wide-eyed shock as he fixed his eyes on someone over Jenna’s shoulder.