Chapter 4
A sharp rap on the doorframe of Gabe’s bedroom cut through the layers of sleep and yanked him awake. He reached for the other side of the bed and felt for Bex, but all he found was cool sheets and a distinct lack of warm skin beside him.
Well, shit.
“Wakey, wakey.”
Gabe rolled over at the voice, cracking his eyes against the milky morning light, and—poof—all hope that Bex was still here disappeared.
His brother stood in the doorway, wearing an unbuttoned flannel shirt over a Hanes v-neck T-shirt. The kind that came in a pack—three for ten bucks. It was probably seventy-five degrees outside, but Vinny had slouched a knit beanie over his unkempt hair. And for fuck’s sake, he was wearing sunglasses indoors.
“No offense, Vinny, but yours was not the first face I was hoping to see today.”
Vinny grinned, peering over the top of the sunglasses to eye the condom wrappers tossed carelessly on Gabe’s bedside table. “Your girl from last night bailed?”
Sometimes his brother was a master of the obvious. “Looks that way.”
Vinny took a step into the room and propped himself against Gabe’s dresser. “So, at least you’re up now.”
“Yeah, and what the hell is that about, Vinny? I thought you were staying at your hotel.”
His brother shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I did stay at my hotel. But someone didn’t show up at brunch like we’d planned, and I figured I should make sure you weren’t dead in a ditch. Excuse me for caring.”
Gabe bolted upright. “I missed brunch? What time is it?”
Vinny consulted his cell phone. “Eleven-thirty.”
“Fuck. On top of everything else, I’m late.” Gabe swung his legs out of bed and waved his brother away from the dresser. “I’ve gotta go.” He threw on a pair of dark selvage jeans, then stalked across the room to yank a crisp, navy button-down from his closet.
“Hot date?”
He slid on the shirt, leaving the top buttons undone and rolling the sleeves to expose his forearms. Unlike some people, he didn’t plan to sweat to death today. “Something like that.”
Vinny laughed. “Guess you’re not too heartbroken over Jessica Rabbit, after all.”
Gabe shot him a look as he crossed back to his bed. “Jessica Rabbit? Really?”
Vinny shrugged. “What? Red hair.”
Gabe reached for the medicine bottle on his bedside table, then shook a pill into his hand and swallowed it dry. “There are so many things wrong with that statement.”
“Well, her tits were a lot smaller. Still perky, though.”
Gabe shook his head. “Can you not?”
Vinny raised his eyebrows. “Oh man, you like her. Can you track her down?”
“It was a one-night stand,” he grumbled. “No digits. So, whatever.”
“Aww, you really like her.”
Despite the fact that Vinny had no idea how he came across to other people, when it came to his brother, he could be way too perceptive sometimes. Maybe that’s what fourteen years of living under the same roof would do for you. Today the four years between them didn’t seem quite as big as it had when they were young.
“I don’t have time for this.” Gabe gave his brother a friendly bump on the shoulder. “Thanks for waking me up. I owe you brunch.”
Vinny rubbed his arm. “Dude, I live across the country and it’s my last day here.”
But Gabe was already out the door.
Gabe wouldn’t exactly call Kevin Holloway a hot date, but the gallery owner did run the hottest art showroom in Las Vegas, and they had an appointment, so it was close enough.
“About time, bud,” Kevin called as Gabe pushed through the Illusion Arts gallery doors three minutes past their appointment time. Kevin had something on his doughy cheeks that he was trying to pass off as a beard, but it was patchy, like someone was trying to grow grass during a drought. There was a reason most people in this town didn’t have front lawns.
“Sorry I’m late,” Gabe said.
“Sure, sure.” Kevin snapped his gum and waved him over to the gallery’s front desk. Gabe passed an armful of artwork as he strode through the showroom—photographs of landscapes alongside abstract paintings and the odd sculpture or two. The art made the whole space feel like a beacon, like a tiny spotlight of something genuine in the epicenter of a world that thrived on sleek appearances and glamour. Not that photography wasn’t its own kind of magic, but still. For that taste of reality, he could deal with Kevin.
“What do you have for me?” Kevin asked, gesturing at him.
Gabe opened his iPad—all the better to hold a whole portfolio of images—and placed it on the counter between them. “Let me just pull up the latest.” He tapped on the screen, and the images he’d stored on the cloud came up, ones from last night at the top of the queue: Bex, in his apartment, her eyes full of laughter, her face saucy as she sauntered toward his couch to strike her fake model pose. Her eyes, full of life, in the next shot, when her facade had cracked and she’d broken into laughter.
The light fucking loved her.
Regret stabbed into Gabe’s stomach and twisted the knife. Why had she been so quick to leave? It was true he hadn’t laid out a welcome mat, but he hadn’t been fully prepared to have his mind blown, either. Last night had been something altogether different for him. He hadn’t just imagined the connection between them. He’d felt it, saw it in Bex’s post-orgasm smile. Results like that deserved some digits, or at least an email address. So where had he gone wrong?
Gabe hadn’t played the game in a while, and it looked like he had gotten played.
“Sorry, wrong pictures.” He scrolled past the photos of Bex and located the images from last weekend’s photo shoot at Red Rocks. In the first shot, the mountains stretched up into the air, the sky so wide that it made you believe infinity was possible.
He smiled, and a warm burst of pride heated his chest. Sometimes photography was the best form of perspective. “No one else has this kind of shot,” he promised Kevin. “To get images like this, you have to be willing to go farther, hike the extra mile.” He wasn’t afraid of going past where everyone else did; he reveled in the challenge.
Gabe pulled up the next photograph—this one where he’d stayed out late to capture a nighttime exposure, the sky a bowl of stars.
Kevin lifted his eyes, but his voice came out flat. “Yeah, these landscapes are great.”
Gabe’s face hardened. “Seriously?”
Kevin nodded. “I’m not bullshitting you. They’re great. But I don’t know if they have that personal connection.” He gestured at the tablet. “Mind if I take a look?”
Gabe nodded, and Kevin flicked through the gallery. His portfolio looked small, somehow, all his images displayed under the meaty pad of Kevin’s thumb.
“Look, here’s an example.” Kevin jabbed his finger at a picture of a busty Vegas showgirl wearing a scrap of sequined fabric and a peacock tail’s worth of feathers.
Gabe sighed. Of course Kevin would pick her. “I need to be known for something other than headshots and commercial photography,” he said. He’d made his career in Las Vegas shooting photographs of aspiring actors, showgirls, call girls—the works—not to mention taking pictures of products of every shape and size. A good photograph could tell a story, sell a brand. And for this, he was the best in the industry.
“Anyway,” Gabe said, “this is all Photoshop and faceTune. And we’re not even counting the fact that this model has fake boobs, tanned skin, and Botox.”
Sometimes everyone blended together here, carbon-copy images of a plastic ideal.
Maybe moving to Vegas had been a stupid plan in the first place, but after New York, he had needed an escape and some sunshine. Something warm in his bones. For the first two years living out here he’d asked himself what the hell he had done, but afterward he’d accepted it—let himself melt into the landscape and appreciate the vista of desert and mountain
s and sky. And then, after everything else that happened, he’d gotten stuck here.
“Okay, then, how about this girl?” Kevin flicked the portfolio backward, landing on the first image of Bex.
Gabe stiffened, and Kevin pressed on. “I know you want to move up, kid.” He was maybe a few years older than Gabe, and the words fell from his mouth with flat condescension. “Here’s what I can do. I’ll give you an opening in a few weeks, talk you up to our customers a bit.”
“Really?” Gabe’s body sagged against the counter, and tension flowed out of his shoulders. Maybe things were looking up.
“Yes, really. But you gotta get me pictures of something better than Red Rocks or the whole deal is off.” Kevin tapped the iPad again. “I need something like this girl.”
Yeah, Gabe thought as Kevin shoved the iPad back into his hands. He closed the tablet’s cover over Bex’s gorgeous, unattainable face. Me, too.
Chapter 5
The phone rang, snapping Bex’s attention away from her computer screen. “Hi, Ruth, what’s up?”
“Your photographer is here, hon,” answered the X Enterprises receptionist.
“Can you show him to the studio? I’ll meet him there.”
Bex straightened her computer keyboard and shuffled her design notebook into the corner of her desk. The surface of the desk was covered in a rainbow of colored pencils, pens, and even watercolor paints, not to mention electronic components and empty product molds. She’d also tacked a bundle of Pantone chips to her pinboard to ensure she found just the right color for each project. No sense in making a couple’s vibrator in a girly shade of pink. No sense in a white anal plug either. Ha.
When Bex looked at her materials, she saw potential. Flesh out a mold in silicone, and you’d have a toy that could help someone live a more pleasure-filled life. Over the years, X Enterprises had received plenty of customer fan mail about her toys from people who’d had their first orgasms or finally allowed themselves to enjoy safe sex after living through traumatic experiences. She’d also heard from people proud to take charge in their own lives and from couples who’d been brought closer together by the act of play. If getting to enjoy her own sex life was a byproduct, well, that was a perk of the job. Even more awesome than a 401k and paid time off. Or, close.
Bex strode down the hall toward the photography studio, passing a display case that held a handful of her top-selling vibrators and dildos. While X Enterprises usually advertised their products with 3D renderings, the company also hired photographers often enough to dedicate a whole room to the activity. Something about real life made images pop, and every now and then you’d want a model to pose with a product. Adding a person to the mix could give your customers a sense of perspective and scale.
She slipped into the photography studio and stopped short.
Holy shit.
Her hookup was here.
Gabriel Marx—the Gabriel Marx of the mind-blowing orgasms and overly-skilled fingers—stood with a camera slung around his neck and a light meter in hand, bent over a hot-pink vibrator. He was so focused on adjusting his camera settings that he didn’t notice her, and she whirled to leave the room.
This was not happening right now. It was one thing to have a one-night stand when you could keep your dignity about it. It was another thing entirely to have your one-night stand show up at your place of employment to photograph a sex toy you’d designed.
Oh god.
Footsteps rang at her back. “Bex, where are you going?” Emma asked.
Gabe looked up at the sound of Emma’s voice, and Bex froze in the doorway, caught between the two of them.
The blood drained from her face. “I was just…” Bex tried again, gasping a little. Didn’t Emma see? “There must be some mistake.”
Emma peered over Bex’s shoulder, her perfectly-groomed eyebrows rising as she spotted Gabe. “Oh hey, didn’t recognize you without the club lights,” she called to him.
If he was shocked, he hid it well. “Surprise,” he said. “Small world.” His body stayed alert but relaxed, and he didn’t seem to feel the need to run from the room. Bex, on the other hand…
Emma’s body still blocked Bex’s exit, and Bex twisted to escape past her.
“No way.” Emma caught her wrist and lowered her voice so only Bex could hear. “There’s no mistake.” Then she shoved her all the way into the room. Some friend.
Across the room, Gabe stared at Bex with an amused smile on his face.
She lifted a hand. “So, hey. What are you doing here?” He raised his camera and smirked. “Right.” She nodded. “You’re a photographer.”
“The top product photographer in Las Vegas,” Emma said. “Avery thought he’d be perfect for the job.”
God, this was awkward. Should she pretend she wasn’t intimately acquainted with Gabe’s cock? Pretend she didn’t know what it felt like to come to pieces around him? Or should she just woman up and shake his hand and act like it was normal for her one-night stand to show up in broad daylight wearing a button-down shirt that she kind of, sort of, wanted to rip off of him?
“Everything okay in here?” Jeremy Glass, X Enterprises’ CEO, poked his head into the room. He was in town for a few days, and there was nothing like seeing her boss to kick Bex back in action. Jeremy was one of the judges of the upcoming design competition. She needed to hold it together in front of him and prove she deserved to win.
She unclenched her hands and nodded. “Just getting started.” Jeremy ducked back out of the room, and Bex’s shoulders relaxed.
“So I know what I’m doing here,” Gabe said as the door swung shut behind Jeremy. “But what are you two doing here?”
Bex blushed, but Emma smiled. She was having way too much fun with this. “Well, I’m here to fill in for Avery in PR and make sure you have all the products you need. And Bex is here because, well, that pretty little number in your hand is her invention. And since all these toys are hers, she’s going to help you find their best angles.”
Gabe’s eyes danced, and his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Is that so?”
“Yep,” Emma continued. “Since it looks like you’ve got everything you need, I’m going to head back to my desk. Bex can help you if you need anything else.”
Emma flounced toward the exit, her blond waves bouncing. It was a shame she was so pretty. Bex was going to kill her anyway.
Emma turned in the doorway before she left and mouthed, “You’ve got this,” at Bex. Which, of course, she didn’t.
A thousand butterflies lifted inside her stomach the moment she was alone with Gabe.
“You told me you were a product designer,” he said quietly. He zipped a finger up and down his camera strap. Maybe he was nervous, after all.
Bex lifted a shoulder. “I am. Adult products.”
His look of amusement made her squirm. “Fancy that. I wouldn’t have thought you had much experience with sex toys with the way you got off so easily the other night.”
She winced. Did he have to remind her? “Yeah, well, that night was an exception. And anyway, toys aren’t just there to solve problems. They can also help you enhance the great sex you’re already having.”
He grinned, bringing out that damn dimple.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t look so proud. Anyway, all you’re doing is reminding me of why I don’t tell people about my job.”
“What do you mean?”
She waved her hands at him. “That look on your face. The second I tell people I’m a sex toy designer, what do you think they think of me?”
“That you’re awesome.”
She shook her head. “Or that I’m a slut. People try to take advantage of me or turn me into a fantasy instead of a human.”
But Gabe wasn’t looking at her like that. He studied her like she was a puzzle to unlock, something fascinating and consuming. His face was kind, and for the first time in a while, she wanted to be known. God, she was such a sucker for a nice smile, and he had
the full-face kind, with eyes that crinkled around the edges. And those dimples.
Dammit.
“Okay, fair point.” Gabe raised his hands. “And no judgment from me. So should we do this?”
Do what? Kiss? Fuck? Spar?
“I mean the shoot,” Gabe said.
Right. The damn shoot.
Okay, fine. She could do this. Deep breaths.
“Yeah,” she said. “You can start with the vibrator on the table, and get a few images. We’ll go from there.”
“Sure thing.”
Bex arranged herself on a desk chair and watched as Gabe worked. He’d brought in a whole array of fancy lights to the studio, and he controlled them with ease. He bent over the vibrator, a compact version that now seemed slim and underwhelming compared to the perfection of his own manhood. Her face heated. Dammit. It was so hard to think straight around him.
“Why don’t we take a few pictures of you holding the vibrator?”
She jerked up her head. A smile curved across Gabe’s lips, and amusement winked in his eyes.
Her cheeks burned. “Oh, no, that’s fine. We can just do standalone shots for now.”
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Of course Shakespeare would pop into her head at a moment like this. Hamlet, Act III, Scene II. Her brain was a repository for useless facts.
“We could really use a hand model. And, look, your nails match the toy.”
What was he trying to do here? Bex glanced down at her nails and huffed out a breath. Every week she painted her nails a new color. Sitting on her couch and watching trashy TV while they dried was like cheap therapy. She admitted a particular affection for Real Housewives reruns, letting the reality show and nail polish fumes blast her brain cells.
Now she cursed herself for her polish habit and for her celebratory idea of pairing today’s polish with the toy: Orgasm Pink. If she hadn’t gone into the sex toy industry, it would have been fun to name nail polish colors.
His Inspiration Page 3