Ben caught them and sighed.
“Oil up,” Samantha ordered. “We’re running short on time. I’ve got a guy coming right after you.”
So he did. Then he flexed and sucked in and mugged for the camera, gradually losing his self-consciousness and having fun. His grin got ever more devilish.
“Fabulous!” exclaimed Sam. After several more shots, she tossed a construction hat at him. “Okay, now we’re ready to get hard core.”
“Hard core?” Ben repeated, alarmed.
“Yup. Strip down in the powder room and come out holding that strategically.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard Ms. Delaney, darling.” Marina’s voice came from the doorway, richly amused. “Go get naked and hold that hard hat over your small penis.”
He swung around and glared at her. “What are you doing here?”
“Supervising.” Marina eyed him coolly. “It is my charity’s fund-raiser, after all.”
Ben fought the urge to inform Sam that he did not have a small penis; that it was quite hefty, indeed. But he’d come off sounding too much like Hank Azaria in America’s Sweethearts. So, instead, he mocked Marina.
“Oh? Have you felt the need to supervise all twelve shoots of naked men? And have you been a hands-on type of manager?”
Sam bit her lip and fiddled with her camera. “Hi, Ms. Reston. Nice to see you.”
“Hello, Sam. Has Delgado been giving you any trouble?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good. He’s signed all the release forms?”
Sam nodded.
“Well, then, what’s the holdup, Benny? De-pants already.”
Ben shot her a gaze full of promised retribution and disappeared into the bathroom again, where he dropped his pants and clapped the hard hat over his goodies. Then he strode out with a gleam in his eye. “So, ladies. How would you like me?”
“Why, sunny-side up, darling,” Marina retorted, settling herself into a chair and crossing her slim, bare legs.
Sam’s lip quivered but she held on to her professionalism. “How about if you recline against the far wall. Rest your weight on your elbow. Good! Hold that expression.”
“What expression?” Ben asked.
“The one that crosses your face when you look at Ms. Reston. As if you’d like to—”
“Beat her?” Ben inquired.
Sam’s face flushed red. “Eat her for lunch.”
“Oh, that expression,” said Ben, and bared his teeth in a wolfish grin.
“Holy Mother of God,” said Sam. She clicked away. “Um, I don’t want to get, um, out of line here. But go ahead and think about doing…whatever it is you do…to Ms. Reston when you’re spending time together. I’d like those expressions, too.”
“Oh, I’d be delighted.” Ben turned his dark eyes on Marina and let them drop to a sleepy half-mast, while he bit his lower lip and began to picture all kinds of X-rated things.
“Dear Lord!” Sam uttered, and Marina squirmed visibly in her chair, uncrossing and recrossing her legs.
They continued in this vein for a good ten minutes.
Finally, Ben laughed softly. “More?”
“I’m not sure I can take any more,” Sam said, fanning herself with an envelope she’d snatched off a side table. “Besides—I’ve got shots here that will peel the wallpaper in the average housewife’s kitchen. I don’t think we can improve on them. Thank you.”
“Just doing my job, señorita.” Ben headed for the powder room, very conscious that the two women’s eyes were glued to his naked backside. Just for fun, he turned his head and caught them in the act.
Sam immediately pretended to look at her camera. Marina switched her attention to her Piaget watch.
Ben smirked, and she flushed angrily. He got dressed wondering how the atmosphere between them always became sexually charged, whether they were speaking or not. By all rights, they should be icily cold to each other after the way they’d parted yesterday.
But here she was, baiting him and staring at his naked buns, while he was so hot for her that he wanted to drag her down the stairs and take her against the side of his truck. Worse, Sam had captured it all on film.
He definitely didn’t need to be leaving with Marina, since they both knew exactly where they’d end up: On the nearest horizontal surface. Or even against a vertical one. And that wouldn’t help the situation between them at all. So he was deliberately brusque when he came out of the bathroom. “I’ve got a thing to do,” he lied.
“A thing.” Marina nodded skeptically.
“Yeah.” He turned to Sam and held out his hand. “It’s been a pleasure. A strange one, but a pleasure. Thanks.”
“Thank you,” she said, and they shook on it.
Thirty seconds later, he was out the door.
MARINA SMILED conspiratorially at Sam. “How soon before you have contact sheets for those?”
“I could have them for you almost immediately.”
“Excellent. Because I want to initiate an evil plot.”
Sam laughed. “Um. Just how evil?”
“If these pictures are as good as I suspect they may be, I want to send them to an agent in New York right away. By tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“Without telling Delgado?”
Marina nodded. “Exactly. And you’re going to say you did it on your own, right?”
“Of course.” Sam smiled at her.
Marina pulled her cell phone out of her Fendi clutch and rapidly dialed a number. “Chloe? It’s me. Listen, I need the name and address of that agent friend of yours…yes. Uh-huh.” She scribbled onto the back of the same envelope Sam had used to fan herself.
“Thank you. What? No, I have not scheduled a nose operation. I’ve decided to live with the extra half millimeter. It will be traumatic, but I’ll manage. And, for your information, Chlo, I ate an actual corn dog today. So there. But don’t you dare bring any of that frozen udder by-product to my new condo—I won’t have it.”
Marina hung up and smiled at Sam. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes. About to launch Ben Delgado’s million-dollar modeling career. Chloe says that her agent friend is looking for just the right face—and body—to carry the new Rugged menswear line. Move over, Eddie Bauer! Because Ben Delgado is going to have the Rugged brand jumping off hangers and mannequins everywhere. And he’s going to get rich doing it.”
She said goodbye to Sam, swore her to secrecy and then headed out on her next mission.
“Mathew, darling!” she exclaimed warmly as she swept into Tremaine’s offices again and caught him at the coffeepot, so that he couldn’t hide.
He began to sweat immediately. Poor man. Even on the top of his balding head. Marina couldn’t help but be impressed with herself.
“M-Marina. N-nice to s-see you again so s-soon.” Mathew’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and a nervous tic started at his left eye.
“Have you been working out, Mathew? Because you’re looking awfully buff.” She let her eyes wander over his scrawny biceps in an admiring way.
He stood taller. “Er. Well, now that you mention it, I did recently join a gym.”
She wagged a finger at him. “The ladies are going to get relentless with you. You’ll be beating them off with a stick.”
He absorbed this with obvious delight and then cleared his throat. “Well. What can I do for you, Marina?”
She slipped an arm around his shoulders and steered him into his office, where she shut the door. “Here’s the thing, Mathew. I have felt simply awful that we cancelled our plans to build with you. It’s just not fair, after all the work you’ve done. So I wanted to make you a business offer that you can’t refuse.”
He looked at her with trepidation. “Can’t refuse?”
With a silky smile, she shoved him gently into his leather chair and leaned against the edge of his desk, so that he was at eye level with the twins. They looked fetching today in a red knit halter top. She jiggled just a tiny bit—nothin
g obvious—and Mathew’s peepers almost popped out of his skull.
“This is a positive windfall opportunity for you! It won’t cost you a dime, but it will make you a few million of them, given a little time.”
“Sounds too good to be true,” he said.
Goodness! Was Mathew developing a resistance to her wiles? Perish the thought.
“If anyone else brought you this deal, it would indeed be suspicious. But this is me, sweetie pie!” She jiggled again and watched his pupils dilate. “And it has to do with Ben.”
He tore his eyes from her breasts and looked at her face. “Uh-oh.”
“Here’s the plan. I am going to give you the money to open a landscaping division of Tremaine Construction! And then, because you can’t think of anyone who has more experience or expertise, you’re going to ask Ben if he’ll be a partner.”
Mathew swallowed. “I am?”
“Yes. And when the division starts raking in money hand over fist, you’re going to decide that you really only want to focus on construction, after all, and you’ll allow Ben to buy out your interest.”
“Um. With what?”
“Don’t you worry your adorable little head about that.”
“He won’t take your money,” Mathew said with dead certainty. “I know it for a fact.”
“I realize that. But Ben is about to make a great deal of money on his own.”
Mathew looked perplexed.
“All I need from you, darling, is complete and utter silence. Zip your lip. Do you understand? You never saw me today. You certainly didn’t get the money for your new division from me. As far as you know, I’m just a useless decoration on Ben’s arm.” She patted his shoulder. “Deal?”
Mathew sighed and rubbed at his shiny pate before his gaze returned helplessly to the twins. “Do I really have a choice?”
Her lips twitched. “You’re a man of infinite wisdom, Mathew Tremaine, and I love you for it. Of course you don’t have a choice.” She bent down to give him a thank-you kiss.
Mathew dodged, hurling himself backward in the rolling chair. “Please don’t,” he begged. “The last time you did that I couldn’t think for the rest of the afternoon.”
Marina chuckled.
He eyed her severely. “You’re a shameless tease without any morals whatsoever.”
She put a hand to her heart, looking injured. “Moi? I have no idea what you mean by that.”
“I may be gullible. I may be a breast man, easy for you to manipulate,” Mathew said dryly, “but I didn’t get where I am today by being stupid.”
She peered at him from under her lashes and dimpled.
“Yeah,” he said in disgusted tones, “I’ll let you know when the papers are drawn up. Then we can meet with the lawyers and you can wire the money.”
“Darling Mathew. You’re a gem.” Marina picked up her bag and moved to the door, hips swaying.
“And you, lady, are something else.”
8
BEN DROPPED the level he’d been carrying and tried to make sense of the words entering his ear via cell phone. “I’m sorry. Who did you say you were? An agent?”
The female on the other end of the line—or cell tower—had a voice that sounded soaked in Chanel and champagne. “Yes. I’m with the Duquesne Modeling Agency in Manhattan. We’ve reviewed your portfolio, and—”
“My what?”
“The photographs Ms. Delaney sent. I had them taken by courier to one of our top clients this morning, and they want to sign you right away. To an exclusive contract. For quite a tidy sum.”
Ben rubbed sweat out of his eyes with the back of his hand and noticed that he had more sawdust than chest hair on his bare torso. Hell and damnation, it was hot. August in south Florida was unbearable. He was nuts to be out here working construction.
“Let me get this straight. Sam Delaney gave you copies of the pictures she took yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“And you sent them on to a client.”
“Yes.”
“All without my knowledge or permission.”
“Mr. Delgado, this opportunity is—”
“Marina!” he said her name like a curse.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing.”
“Look, Ben—May I call you Ben?”
He began to laugh mirthlessly.
“Ben, this is the opportunity of a lifetime. If you’re willing to sign some papers to the effect that I represent you, I can bring you a deal worth three-point-eight million dollars. Today.”
“Three-point-eight—Dios mío. Wait, are these naked pictures they want? The full monty? Do I have to do something indecente y peligroso with a mule? Because there is no way in hell—”
“Mr. Delgado,” said the female voice crisply, “this is completely above board with no shenanigans, no scandal, no hankypanky. These people are dead serious and they are offering you a job as spokesperson for a line of menswear called Rugged. I assume you’ve heard of it?”
Rugged? Who hadn’t heard of it? He’d been wearing their jeans since he was a kid. Everyone wore their jeans. They were an American household name. “Yes, of course I’ve heard of it. I’m just trying to make sense of all of this.”
“I’d like to fax you the paperwork for representation by the Duquesne Agency. You can have a lawyer look it over if you’d like, but it’s standard boilerplate. We charge a percentage of your modeling fees in return for finding you work and negotiating your contracts.”
She went on with some details until Ben stopped her. “You’re sure it was Sam Delaney who sent you the photos? Not Marina Reston?”
“I’m not acquainted with Ms. Reston. Actually, I’m not acquainted with Ms. Delaney, either, but I’ve seen her work before.”
“Hmm.” The math still wasn’t hard to do. Marina had put Sam up to it—of that, Ben was sure. Still…almost four million dollars? Just to mug for some cameras?
“Do I have to move to New York?”
“No,” said the agent. “You’ll probably be spending some time here, though. You can get a hotel, and the same goes for when you’re actually shooting on location. I can’t tell you where that might be. So, can you give me a fax number? And I’ll overnight the original papers to you. Just sign them and overnight them back to me, using our account number.”
Ben’s fax machine had blown away with everything else, so he gave her the number at the Reston Foundation. After all, he was going over there right away. He had something to say to Marina about interference.
WITH GREAT SUSPICION, Marina reluctantly slid her foot into a Nike Labs G-series shoe. It was actually quite stylish, but the low price tag rendered it suspect. Something had to be wrong with it. Because otherwise they’d charge an outrageous price and limit the distribution so that it was almost impossible to get.
But…her foot flexed in delight as it made contact with the cushioned, springy interior of the shoe. It felt like a spa slipper! A really thick, soft, high-quality one.
She let the salesperson unwrap the mate to the shoe and slid her foot into that, too. Then she stood and took a few steps in the shoes. She felt as if she were walking on clouds! Her arches got a positive massage from this footwear. Her heels didn’t slam into a hard surface and cause shooting pains to run up her legs. Imagine! And the balls of her feet got caressed instead of punished. These shoes were worth their weight in gold.
Chloe nodded sagely, a “see, I told you so” smirk on her face. “Believe me, now?”
“I do. I apologize for doubting you. And I can’t believe the price on these things! I am all about this new, poor lifestyle.” She turned to the sales guy. “I’ll take them in every color, please.”
He hesitated. “Uh. But there are ten different shades, ma’am.”
She blinked and smiled charmingly. “Yes, I know. Is there a problem?”
“No! No problem at all. I’ll just get those ready for you. How would you like to pay, ma’am?”
Marina fis
hed her American Express Black Card out of her Escada bag. “You take that, don’t you?”
“Absolutely,” he said, plucking it out of her hand with reverence. “May I show you—”
“No, thank you. I’m woefully poverty-stricken at the moment. I couldn’t possibly afford another thing.”
He glanced at her, possibly to see if she was kidding. She stared back at him. He looked at Chloe, who just shrugged and then tapped her index finger against her temple.
“I saw that!” Marina said.
Before she could change her mind, the salesman scurried away with her Black Card, like an ant with a large cracker crumb.
Chloe snorted. “What were you saying about your new, poor lifestyle?”
Marina flapped her purse at her. “I have to go back to work.”
“Yeah. To pay for this thousand-dollar shoe-shopping trip. Life is really rough for you now—I can see that.”
Marina hunched her shoulders. “Fine. I’ll return most of them. I’m just not used to this budget stuff. Rome wasn’t bought in a day….”
Chloe burst out laughing. “First of all, that makes no sense. Second, trust me, if you’d been there, you could have done it.”
Glumly, Marina returned to her office. She was going to have to post Webster’s definition of the word budget above her computer. That much was clear. But in the meantime, her new, improved, cheap shoes felt fab! She bounced up the steps to the foundation, only to have the door swing ominously open for her.
“Marina,” said Ben in forbidding tones.
“Yes?” Good thing she was highly practiced at the art of playing dumb. “How are you, Ben? What brings you here today?”
“My Rugged good looks,” he growled.
She blinked. “That’s, er, very modest of you. But I’m familiar with them. Did you think I needed to get reacquainted with your handsome mug?”
“Don’t try to snow me, mi corazón. You are behind this!”
“Behind what? I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, no? You didn’t ask Sam Delaney to send those pictures of me to some New York agent?”
Men at Work Page 6