He chose their outfits and pushed them both behind curtains, so they could change. Together.
Not sure what to do, Dylan stared at her.
“Just turn around and get dressed,” she whispered, rotating so her back was to him. “And don’t spy.”
He spun and carefully slipped off his clothes, except for his black boxers briefs. His movements were steady and controlled, just like his breathing. Because, if he stopped to think Hayley was behind him, wearing nothing but her panties, he wouldn’t resist and he would peek.
He reached for the sleeveless tee J.P. asked him to put on, but it fell on the floor. As he knelt to grab it, he caught a glance of Hayley’s bare feet. He froze, his gaze traveling north, devouring her long, lean legs, her shimmering soft skin.
Then her dress fell over them, and he shot up, his cheeks hot. Damn, he had been staring at her.
“Ready?” she asked, scaring away his thoughts.
He yanked the shirt over his head. “Yeah.” They faced each other, and again he noticed how nervous she was. “How are you?” he asked out of habit. It was the polite thing to do, after all, but it hit him as a stone thrown at his chest, that he really did want to know how she was. That he cared about what she was going through, that he wished she would talk to him, let him in.
She inhaled a deep breath and forced a smile. “I’ll survive.”
He opened his mouth to protest, to try to convince her of opening up to him, but an assistant showed up beside them at that moment. She directed them to the main studio where the photographer, Dorant, and his team waited for them.
At first, posing for the camera felt weird. He never knew what do with his hands and where to look. But after the first hour, Dylan became comfortable. Even Hayley seemed more relaxed when before the cameras with him.
The bright side of the photo shoot was the touching and the hugging and the staring part Hayley couldn’t avoid. Each time his hand landed on her back or on her arms, she shivered. It seemed as if he had some effect on her, but why did she pretend he didn’t?
After nearly two hours, Dorant changed the game. “Now let’s do something sexier.”
Hayley froze. “What do you mean?”
“Both of you take off your shirts. And bra.” Hayley’s eyes bugged. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t let any of your parts be seen in the pictures.”
It wouldn’t be the first time she removed her shirt and bra for a shoot, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable with it. Especially because Dylan would see her.
Swallowing hard, she took off her shirt. Couldn’t she keep her bra?
Dylan stared at her.
“What?”
“I didn’t know it was going this way,” he whispered, getting closer. “I don’t think you should do it if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not about wanting or not. Models do this all the time.” Her voice sounded brave, even when her soul was melting away.
“Are you sure?”
“Just do what he says. It’s my career on the line here.”
Dylan took off his shirt, and she swallowed hard again before forcing her eyes to her feet. Crap, he looked very yummy with his lean muscles and broad shoulders. He worked out, she knew that, but she never really thought about what that would do to his body. Stupid her.
After a deep inhale of courage, Hayley unclasped her bra and pushed it aside. She instinctively brought her right arm over her breasts.
“All right,” Dorant started. “Hayley, lean your back on his chest. Romeo, you put your arm around her, over her breasts, to hide them.”
Shaking, and without looking at him, Hayley leaned against Dylan’s hard chest. His breath reached her ear, making her gasp, as his hand snaked around her, hesitant and lost. Hayley put her hand over his and guided him, his palm over the left breast, his forearm over the right one. He shivered.
Many photo flashes sparkled around them, but all she could think or feel was Dylan’s hand on her, his body pressed close to her, his warm breathing on her neck, quickening her heartbeat. Dorant interrupted the thrilling moment. “Now I want Dylan turned to us and Hayley turned to Dylan, her arms around his, and Dylan’s hands on her hips. Look at each other.”
Hayley turned around and met Dylan’s gaze. She had never seen him this serious before, and it scared her. She stepped into his arms, never breaking the stare, gasping when her upper body touched his hot skin, her hands sliding to his back.
He grasped her hips and pulled her closer. She gasped again.
The air around them crackled, supercharged.
Dylan’s blue eyes tantalized her. There was something there, something she couldn’t decipher, a shine she couldn’t understand, but she wanted to. She needed to.
“A kiss now,” Dorant said.
Dylan’s eyes widened, and she nodded. He leaned down and planted a sweet peck on her lips. From where their lips touched, a jolt spread down her body.
“Come on,” Dorant complained. “We’re all professionals here. A real kiss. Like the ones you two share when you’re alone.” Ha! Did he really want a non-existent kiss? “A passionate and long kiss. Just don’t get it going, all right? We don’t need to shoot that part.”
She couldn’t believe this.
Worse, Dylan was frozen. Wasn’t she the one who became sick before cameras? Ironic—she was almost okay, and he needed help.
Hayley stood on tiptoes and snaked her hand up his back, to the nape of his neck. He shivered as she applied a little pressure there. As if he had woken up from a spell, Dylan blinked, his eyes focusing on her again. He leaned down and, when she closed her eyes, took his mouth on hers.
***
Dylan kissed Hayley, his lips moving slowly at first, afraid of getting her madder than she already was, afraid of falling under her spell more than he already had. But her scent burned his nostrils, her sweet taste teased his mouth, and he lost it. His need grew, and he increased the speed and pressure of the kiss. Startling him, she matched his new rhythm, her soft lips moving along with his, her nails scratching the back of his shoulder, sending shivers down his spine, shaking his core. Wanting more of her, needing more of her, he slid his hands up her bare back, rubbed her silky skin, glued himself to her. He loved her skin on his, her warmth mingled with his.
Dylan could have kissed her forever, and he would have, were it not for Dorant.
“Perfect,” the photographer said, destroying the moment. “And that’s a wrap. We’re done here, people.”
The kiss slowed, their hands drew back, and finally Hayley pulled her head back, breaking the kiss, her wide eyes on his.
Damn, he missed her lips already.
“Hayley, I—”
She walked away without hearing him. Perhaps, it was for the best, since he wasn’t sure what to say. He felt he needed to say something, to fix them, to fix their friendship.
Hayley, on the other hand, didn’t seem eager to fix anything. When he got to the fitting room, she had already changed into her clothes. Dylan stripped and put on his own clothes in record time to catch up with her. Now she didn’t want to keep appearances?
In the lobby, he held her wrist to stop her. “Wait here. I’ll bring the car.”
Hayley pulled her hand back and crossed her arms, all the while avoiding looking directly at him. “Thank you for the photo shoot, but I can take it from here.”
“But you said—”
“I said I’ll go with you to the ball. I will. I just don’t need a ride home.”
“It’s snowing.” He pointed outside.
“I’ve been living in New York for four years. The snow doesn’t bother me anymore.” Her eyes met his, reserved. “Thank you.”
He stared as she ran from him, realizing it hurt. His only true friend—one that took him in during his worst times and never asked for explanations, one who lend him a friendly shoulder, one that listened as he complained about his family—walked out of the building. And it felt as if an important part of his li
fe had just escaped him.
Chapter Eleven
A week later, Hayley got a message from Dylan. Somehow, he had learned that a few people from the fashion world—including designers, models, agency owners, and photographers—were having a party at a club in Manhattan, and he could get them in, if she wanted to go.
Swallowing her pride with her mind on her career, Hayley agreed.
Dylan picked her up at ten, and she did her best to ignore him and how utterly gorgeous he looked in a fitted black shirt and dark jeans.
After parking in the club’s private garage, Dylan opened her door and offered his arm.
What was she supposed to do? Ignore him? She was still mad at him, still hurt, but they had a deal until Valentine’s Day. Three more weeks and she could start ignoring him. Forever.
She linked her arm in his. “Thanks for inviting me to this party.”
He smiled at her. Not his cocky smile. Not a wide grin. Just a true smile. “You’re welcome.” He patted her hand. “You look stunning.”
She looked down and shrugged.
As expected, they didn’t have to wait in line. In fact, they were escorted to the VIP area by four gorillas. The men led them to a privileged area in the large gallery overlooking the dance floor.
The club was very fancy, with velvet sofas, mirrored walls, and giant colorful aquariums. The place was packed, and everyone looked like elite members, unlike her.
She stole a quick glance at Dylan. Like everyone else, he swayed to the rhythm of the loud music, a smile on his face, his eyes scanning the place. Looking for his next victim, she was sure. Why did he have to dance so well? It was impossible to look away.
A few famous models walked behind their sofa area, to take the one beside theirs.
The butterflies in her stomach took off and, without thinking, she leaned against Dylan for support.
His hand snaked around her waist. “Are you okay?”
Dizzy all of a sudden, Hayley looked up and found Dylan turned to her, staring down at her.
Her breath caught with the intensity of his stare.
“Just saw some top models and my stomach reacted,” she confessed, the heat of embarrassment spreading through her cheeks.
His hand brushed her reddened cheek. “Tell me if you need me to do something, all right? Grab water, carry you to the bathroom, anything. Okay?”
Why was he being this nice? “Okay.”
She stepped away from him and drank her glass of champagne in one long swallow. Apparently, she would need more of those tonight.
Near the bar, Hayley spotted a friend, another aspiring model, trying to take a place among the big names, just like her.
“Hey,” she called Dylan, shouting above the music, “I saw a friend. I’m going down there for a minute.”
He nodded. “Okay. Hurry back.”
Hayley darted from the VIP area and down the stairs, weaving through the heavy crowd in the “peasants” area, to the bar where her friend waited for a drink.
“Sarah!” she called, prying a place at the bar beside the other model.
“Oh my God, Hayley!” The girls hugged. “You look fabulous! What have you been up to?”
“Looking for gigs.”
Sarah nodded. “Same.” The bartender handed her a martini. “You alone here?”
“Nope.” Her eyes flew to the gallery where Dylan stood, sipping from his champagne and staring at her.
Sarah followed her gaze. “Oh, yeah, I saw about you two. Isn’t he kind of a jerk though?”
A nervous giggle escaped from Hayley’s mouth. “Sometimes. But I know how to deal with it.”
Not in the mood to talk about their complicated relationship, Hayley changed the subject. They discussed their latest jobs and how hard the path to success was.
Tired of standing and being shoved around by the crowd, Hayley invited Sarah to go up to the gallery. “Hey, don’t you want….” Her words died when she glanced up. Three girls surrounded Dylan, their dresses too short, their hands hovering over him, their mouths pouting suggestively. And Dylan talked to them as if he had known them for a long time, a grin on his face, a drink in his hand.
“What?” Sarah asked, yanking her out of the suffocating vision.
“Nothing.” She forced a smile and kept up the conversation, telling about her upcoming Vogue cover.
She kept glancing into Dylan’s direction, a stab of jealousy and hurt spreading through her chest. She wanted to claw those girls, or run away.
“Did you know…oh, shit.” Sarah’s expression tightened, and she pulled Hayley closer.
“What?” she asked, yelling over the loud music and noisy chatter.
“Don’t look now, but Patrick is coming your way.”
“Patrick?” Hayley blinked. “What is he doing here?”
“No idea, but he is definitely coming to you.”
Hayley looked around, trying to find an escape route through the crowd. The only way she could go would lead her straight into Patrick’s path.
“What do I do?”
Sarah opened her mouth to answer, but she clamped her lips when Patrick stepped into their circle.
“Hello, Hayley,” he said as if she were alone.
Sarah’s eyes widened. “I’m out of here.”
Hayley wanted to hold Sarah, but Patrick took the other model’s place as soon as she retreated.
“You look amazing.” Patrick smiled, his hazel eyes shining. “How have you been?”
“I-I’m fine.” Her stomach revolved like before she'd step onto the runway.
He stepped closer to her. “I’ve been trying to call you. Did you change your number?”
Hayley tried to put more distance in between them, but there was a wall of people behind her. And they smelled like cheap beer and cigars. “No, I didn’t.”
“We need to talk, Hayley.” He reached out and grasped her hand.
Patrick was a handsome guy, not much taller than she was, but with broad shoulders and short, silky chestnut hair. And yet, the enchantment wasn’t there. The enchantment had never been there.
“No, Patrick.” She pulled her hand to herself. “We have talked. It’s over.”
“It can’t be over. I still love you.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, before stepping away from him.
But where would she go? Up to Dylan and his bimbos or leave and lose the opportunity of meeting some famous people in the fashion world? It wasn’t everyday she had VIP entrance to such a club. It also wasn’t everyday she felt such painful jealousy. She refused to look up. God, what if he was already kissing one of them? Or the three of them? And she was here, standing like a spare tire, waiting for the paparazzi to find her and take her photos and mock her. The next day, all the magazines and newspapers would have headlines of how stupid she was.
Her breathing grew shallow and she made up her mind. She turned to the exit, but Patrick appeared beside her, holding her arm.
“Can you please just listen to me?”
She turned to him. “Haven’t you heard? I’m dating.”
Patrick’s expression hardened. “Yes, I heard. But that guy is a womanizer. When he’s done with you, he’ll throw you away.” He slipped his hand to her shoulder, gripping it and pulling her closer to him. “I won’t ever do that to you.”
With her hands on his chest, Hayley pulled away. “That’s none of your business. And I’m not making up with you, Patrick. It’s over.”
“Are you really in love with that guy?” Patrick leaned over her, his eyes narrowed. “He’s a jerk, Hayley. He’ll use you and break your heart. He’ll even squash it with his feet afterward.”
“No, I won’t,” Dylan’s voice came loud and clear above the loud music from behind Patrick.
Hayley’s pulse quickened as Dylan stepped between them, taking her hand and weaving his fingers through hers.
Patrick straightened up, as if he could get as tall and menacing as Dylan. “Excuse me, but I’m talk
ing to my girlfriend.”
“I’m not your girlfriend!” Rage boiled into Hayley’s stomach. How dare he? “I broke up with you five months ago. Get over it.”
Patrick flinched. “Suit yourself. But be warned. He,” his finger pointed to Dylan, “will break your heart. And when you come running and crying to me, I won’t be there for you.”
With a final glare at both of them, Patrick strutted away.
Dylan’s arm slid to her back, pressing her close to him. “First, I doubt he won’t be waiting for you, if you ever went after him, which I hope you won’t. Second,” he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, “you know I would never use you, right?”
“As far as I know, we’re using each other,” she teased, hoping her fake smile covered how confused she felt. But Dylan remained serious and she had to avert her eyes. “I saw you were with a couple of girls up there. Planning on taking them home? If so, please, just be careful so no one sees you. I don’t want to be called a slut anymore.”
“Hayley, I—”
“That’s okay, Dylan. I know how you are.” She gently pushed his hands away. “Thanks for inviting me to this party. It would have been a great opportunity for me, but I just need to get home. Have fun.”
She turned her back to him, but he stepped into her path. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Going home.”
“Not until I introduce you to the guy I was just talking to.”
“Dylan, please, I’m not in the mood.”
He smirked. “What if the guy is one of the owners of Gaz?”
“What? The modeling agency? The modeling agency? You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not.” He offered his arm. “Come on.”
Hayley rested her hand on his arm and let him guide her upstairs. A dozen of people from Gaz filled a private area, sipping champagne, gossiping, and people-watching.
Frankie Cole, one of the agency owners, turned to them with a huge smile. “Mr. Deveraux, you’re back.”
Dylan glanced Hayley’s way before returning the smile. “I told you I would bring her to you.”
His Allure, Her Passion Page 6