The assistants were running around wildly in semi-organized chaos when one of them brought him in. I felt the world stop, just for a barely perceptible moment. Our eyes locked.
He grinned at me, shoulders squared, almost standing at attention. The tux they’d chosen for him to model emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He wore it with authority, like a uniform.
I recognized that military bearing. My breath caught. Ever since I’d been a little girl I’d imagined my groom looking very much like that—shoulders back, big smile on his face—as I walked down the aisle to meet him.
“Well, if it isn’t the other token handless person,” I said, holding his gaze. “You hung in there. I was wondering whether you’d desert by now. Step out to take a private call and disappear.”
“Desert? No way. I’m loyal to a fault.” He held up his hand. “Who you calling handless? I’m only partially fingerless.” The flirty look he gave me sent my heart galloping.
I was supposed to be the calm professional here. But he was the one who appeared unruffled.
“My mistake,” I said.
“Don’t beat yourself up. It’s a common error. But I believe I’m the token vet here. The token war hero.” He puffed his chest out, clearly exaggeratedly peacocking.
I rolled my eyes. His grin deepened.
I loved the teasing timbre of his voice. There was something hot about a confident man with a sense of humor. “So you lost your fingers in action?”
He nodded. “In service to my country.” He held out his right hand. “Knox.”
His grip was firm as I took his hand. I liked that. Limp-fish handshakes were a turn-off. Not that I was supposed to be turned on. “Callie.”
Up close, he smelled delicious. He was obviously made up for the shoot, which skewed his looks.
Male models wore blush to give them cheekbones and contour makeup to enhance their jaw line and abs if they were going shirtless. Foundation to smooth their skin. It was part of the job, but always turned me off a bit. I just liked my men au naturel, raw and rugged. In spite of the makeup, it was clear Knox had a strong chin and intelligent, beautiful eyes. Beneath that coat of greasepaint, he was a gorgeous, regular guy who didn’t seem preoccupied with his looks. Which made him that much more attractive.
I was almost knocked over by an instant sense of chemistry. Look, I worked with a lot of handsome men. Some of them gay, true, and not interested in me, but still well built and sexy. Knox wasn’t as classically handsome as many, or even most, of the models I’d worked with. But his imperfect looks gave him character. He had an indefinable something that appealed to me.
I immediately felt a sense of guilt. Was he one of the engaged grooms? I tried to remember. At least one of the other guys had mentioned a fiancée. Had two? Was I flirting with some other woman’s man? If I was, the interest was returned. When it’s there, you can feel it. And, oh, I felt it.
Peter adjusted the lens on his camera. “Let’s get some shots to check the light and see how this guy reacts to the camera.”
Peter positioned us in front of the backdrop and adjusted the umbrellas and soft boxes around us to light us the way he wanted. Knox might be unaware, but I was acutely aware that Peter was gauging our reaction to each other as he worked. If Peter was feeling as I was, none of the other grooms were ideal candidates for the big story shoot. Our hopes were pinned on Knox.
Knox and I faced the camera to show off the dress, Knox’s left arm around my waist, his robotic fingers resting on my side, peeking around.
Peter snapped some shots and adjusted the lights and bounce screens again. “All right. Good. I think I’ve got good light balance for the first shots I want. Turn your heads to look at each other. With love in your eyes. Sell us on the fact that this is the happiest day of your lives as you join with each other.”
Our eyes met. Yes, there was something there. I knew how to emote. But I didn’t have to fake much. Maybe I wasn’t ready to marry this stranger, but he was fine to look at and fun to flirt with. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He stood ramrod straight.
Peter shook his head. “Knox, loosen up, man. Relax. Yeah, I got it. Nerves. You’re up close and personal with this gorgeous model and it scares the crap out of you. Don’t let her intimidate you. She doesn’t bite.”
“And how would you know that, Peter?” I said.
Peter laughed. “Now you’re just toying with him, Callie. Don’t scare the guy. He’s our last hope.”
I shook Knox gently. “Give him a break, Peter. This isn’t nerves. This is Knox’s military bearing.” I turned to Knox. “Am I right?”
He looked relieved and actually relaxed. “She called it.”
“Well, this isn’t a damn military parade,” Peter said. “Pretend you love this woman. That shouldn’t be too hard. Who could resist falling for a woman as beautiful as Callie?”
I didn’t expect Knox to react and switch gears so quickly. He took me off guard, catching my chin in his right hand and stroking my hair with his left prosthesis as he held my gaze. I saw myself reflected in his eyes. I saw something else in his eyes as well—desire.
I heard the quiet click of the camera as Peter snapped pictures. My breath caught. I had to suppress a bubble of happy laughter. This was so crazy. In my wildest dreams, I never imagined being thrilled by the touch of a robotic finger in my hair at a photoshoot.
Knox bent his head until his forehead pressed against mine. “This is fun,” he whispered.
“Whispering sweet nothings! I love it.” Peter moved in closer. “Hold it. Don’t move. Keep the look.”
“You won’t think this is so fun when Peter makes us stand like statues in this pose for hours,” I said, unable to get the way Knox looked at me out of my head. I’d be dreaming about this tonight, damn him. And seriously, did he have to smell so good? Even his breath was fresh and minty, with a hint of coffee to it. I should have been grateful he’d been thoughtful enough to chew a mint. But this was over the top.
Peter kept snapping. “Hours? You’re painting me as a tyrant.”
“Aren’t you?” I said.
Peter kept shooting. Knox and I fell into silence, letting Peter pose us and coach us how to tilt our heads, to lean in as if for a kiss. He directed his makeup artist to refresh my lip gloss and put a tiny dot of clear gloss on Knox’s lips to look like our lips were moist and kissable.
Holding a pose like this can sometimes feel ridiculous. It was often hard not to break out laughing. Sometimes my mind wandered. I responded on autopilot to the photographer’s instructions.
“Callie, touch Knox’s cheek,” Peter said, moving around us to photograph us from angle. “No. With your left hand.” He positioned my hand where he wanted it. “Gently. That’s it.”
My hand responded to my thoughts, tenderly stroking Knox’s cheek. That hand could do a lot, but it couldn’t feel Knox’s skin. Or detect his stubble. Or tell me whether Knox’s cheek was hot or cold. To his credit, Knox didn’t shrink at the touch. To the contrary, he leaned into my hand.
“You should have put us on a turntable, Peter,” I said. “It would have been easier for you.”
He got up close, almost right in our faces. “No. This is perfect.” He got on a stepladder and shot down at us, then adjusted his lights and shot us from another angle.
The door to the studio opened. Someone slipped in out of my line of vision. The atmosphere in the room shifted, suddenly becoming less casual. Everyone was now on their best behavior, trying to impress. This was someone important.
Peter lowered his camera. “Justin?”
“Don’t let me interrupt, Peter.”
I recognized the voice—Justin Green, the CEO. No wonder everyone was on their best behavior. Now my heart was pounding in my ears, too.
“This is an important shoot,” Justin said, mirroring my thoughts. “I had a few minutes. Thought I’d drop in and see how it’s going.”
“Fantastic,” Peter said. “You sent us some real p
ro amateurs.”
“Good to hear,” Justin said. “I’ll observe for a few minutes and slip out. I have another meeting to get to soon.”
Something in Knox shifted. He got a hard look in his eyes. He didn’t care for Justin? Who wouldn’t like Justin?
Justin was as good as his word. He left quietly after silently observing the shoot for a very short time. As soon as Justin slipped out, Knox relaxed again.
I returned to my musings. Through the shoot, I remained almost breathlessly fascinated with staring into Knox’s eyes. How often did you get the chance to just stare into another person’s eyes like this, a man who captivated you?
This close up, it was clear he wasn’t wearing contacts. His pupils were dark and wide from the flashes of light—bedroom eyes, if you like. Altogether, his eyes were nicely shaped and hooded. Just a dark brown, not an uncommon color. But somehow unique. Darkly rimmed around the irises. Striations radiated out from the center of his pupil, and there were variations in his irises that reminded me of the texture of rounds of wood. If I counted the circles, could I tell his age? I had to stifle another laugh. Callie, the fortune teller. His were eyes I wouldn’t forget, expressive and amused by the process, looking like he was talking to me through them.
Finally, Peter lowered his camera and stepped back. “That was fantastic. Great job.” He slapped Knox on the back.
“What’s next, boss?” Knox asked him, his hands still on my face.
“You can let go of the bride, for one.” Peter gave him a sly look.
“Oh, sure.” Knox looked suddenly self-conscious.
I dropped my hand from his face.
“I think I have what I need.” Peter flipped through the pictures on his camera. “Yeah. I got some great stuff.” He lowered his camera. “Knox, you’re done here today. We’ll let you know this afternoon if you’ve been chosen for the shoot tomorrow. Callie, take a lunch break. Back in an hour.”
I nodded and slipped out of my shoes, ready to head to wardrobe to get out of the dress before lunch. To my surprise, Knox waited for me, then joined me in heading out.
He tugged at his tie, loosening it. “It will be good to get out of this tux. I feel trussed up.”
I lifted an eyebrow at him. “You feel trussed up? You’re not wearing a corset. Count yourself lucky.”
“You’re corseted? I thought those things went out with the end of the Victorian era.”
I shook my head. “You know nothing about bridal fashions, Knox.”
He grinned. “So you could have fainted in my arms, is that what you’re saying?”
“In your dreams,” I said. “Peter would have had to put us through a tricky kickboxing routine to get me breathless enough to faint. I’m no simpering belle.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that.” He flashed me an admiring look. “You seem like a pro at being a bride.”
“Is that an insult? Your comment can be taken a lot of ways.” I side-eyed him. “If that’s your clumsy way of asking if I’m single—no, I’m not a multiple divorcee, as your insult indicates. I’ve never been married. And yes, I’m very single. Temporarily, at least. Despite my rather obvious cynicism involving men, I still believe there are some good ones around.” I gave him a rather obvious up-and-down. “I have high hopes I’ll find one soon.”
“Whoa.” He held his hands up, but his voice was full of humor. “That was a compliment to your modeling skills.”
“You mean my ability to stare into a man’s eyes for hours, barely blinking, avoiding dry eye, or its opposite—spontaneous, uncontrollable eye watering—sneezing in your face, or suddenly breaking into hysterical laughter?”
“Wow.” He pulled his tie completely free and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. “Those are all the skills? You forgot a suddenly itching nose or the urge to scratch your back.”
“Ah, so you do have an appreciation for the finer points of holding a gaze-deep-into-the-eyes pose?”
“You could say that.” He slapped the tie against his other hand. “What I meant was—you know how to wear a dress.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at him just enough to encourage him but leave him wondering how interested I was. “I’ve done a lot of bridal shows and shoots lately. It’s the season.”
“Yeah.”
“And you?”
“This is my first modeling gig.”
“Yeah, I know that.” I arrived at the door to my dressing room. “I meant, what do you do when you’re not having your first modeling gig?”
“This and that.”
I arched an eyebrow. “A man of mystery.”
He shrugged. “Not much to tell. I own my own business.”
I pointed toward the door of the dressing room. “This is me. I’m here.”
His face fell. It was cute the way he didn’t hide his disappointment.
“Yeah,” he said in that deep, sexy tone of his. “Well, it’s been fun staring into your eyes all morning.”
“Thanks. I’ll take that as high praise indeed. Most people consider sitting around staring at each other very boring.” I turned to go into my dressing room.
He touched my arm. “Hey, I need to eat. I’d rather not do it alone. Can I buy you lunch?”
I took his arm. “You misunderstood Peter. By an hour, he means much less. And I’ll spend at least half of that in wardrobe, makeup, and hair. Lunch really means grab a bite on the run and rush back. And besides, lunch is provided. In this case, as a cafeteria voucher.”
“Ah.” He paused. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow? I mean, if I get the job.”
I leaned into him like I was going to kiss his cheek. Instead, I whispered in his ear, “Good luck. Hope I see you tomorrow. You were my favorite groom. But don’t get your hopes up. I have no say in the matter.”
Before he could respond, I slipped into the dressing room and closed the door on him. My heart pounded. I was smiling broadly. This wasn’t good. I didn’t know why I was mercilessly teasing and flirting with him. Other than it was fun. Incredibly fun.
One of the assistants was waiting to help me undress. No bride gets out of her dress alone unless she’s some kind of gymnastics queen.
“You look happy,” the assistant said, flashing me a look designed to get me to spill a confidence.
“Yeah,” I said. “I think I am. It was a good shoot this morning. The amateurs were better than I expected. Now get me out of this dress, please! I’m starving.”
8
Lazer
I was rushing to a meeting across town when my phone rang. I picked it up on Bluetooth. Justin was calling. Right on time.
“Justin, man, what’s up?” I was expecting a report on Knox’s fashion shoot with Flash and, more importantly, how well our software had predicted a match for him.
“Just came from the shoot.” Justin’s voice had a smile in it.
I started grinning. “Don’t keep me in suspense. How did our boy do?”
“As a model, he didn’t do half bad. A little stiff, but—”
“Stop toying with me.”
Justin laughed. “I wish you would have been there. You’re the matchmaking expert, not me.”
“And given us away?” I signaled to turn left.
“I’m no love guru and certainly not a matchmaker, but I didn’t need to be. The attraction between Callie and Knox was emanating off them, like a heat wave—invisible, but there. It was a thing of beauty, Laze. A real thing of beauty. Our software kicked ass.”
I broke out into peals of maniacal laughter as I pulled to a stop at the light. I couldn’t help myself. I finally got enough control to croak out a response. “You don’t say.”
“Gee, you don’t sound happy at all about it.” Justin could be happily sarcastic when he wanted to be. “Was that your evil genius laugh?”
“Might have been.”
“Good. Nothing like a good evil genius laugh to celebrate a victory. Peter had them staring deeply into each other’s eyes, just like I instructed him
to on your behalf. It was epic, let me tell you,” he said. “Put their faces within inches of each other and let them gaze into the windows to each other’s souls for as long as they could hold the pose. Brilliant, simply genius.”
I wiped my eyes. I was laughing so damn hard. “That’s me, matchmaking, wingman-ing genius. Do you think Knox had any clue what we’re up to?”
“No. No way. Even Peter has no idea. He thinks the shot list I gave him is all to sell the product and tell our carefully scripted story. And it is. In a way.”
“Knox has left the building?”
“About fifteen minutes ago. I watched him on the surveillance cameras.” Justin chuckled. “And get this—Knox walked Callie back to her dressing room.”
“Really?” I was delighted. “Just like school. Isn’t that adorable?”
“Better yet, it may have been my imagination, but I’m pretty sure he hit on her pretty blatantly. We’re in luck. Either she really doesn’t want to blow her spokesmodel gig for you by encouraging a guy she hasn’t been paired with or she’s a skilled dater. At this point, her motivation isn’t important. She turned him down. The chase is half the game—doesn’t Ashley say that? She’s going to make Knox work for it until she’s ready to reel him in.”
“That warms my heart to its very core. Bonus points for us,” I said. “And Knox is sweating it out about whether he got the gig?” I was enjoying myself way too much.
“Absolutely sweating bullets, I would guess. We’ll let him stew another couple of hours before we put him out of his misery. I have a meeting with Peter at two. I’ll tell him how impressed I am with Knox’s shoot and make my preference known for Knox as our groom. From what I saw, Peter won’t take any convincing. In all probability, he’ll demand Knox get the job before I even get a chance to weigh in. As soon as the decision is made, I’ll have Peter get the word to Knox immediately.”
The light changed. “Excellent.” I would have rubbed my hands together, but I was driving and traffic was thick. “Wait until they face the poses we have for them tomorrow.”
Mr. Accidental Groom Page 7