Naughty and Nice

by Sarah J. Brooks

  A redhead with pale green eyes poked her head through. “Mr. Matheson, the girls are ready,” she informed him in a silken voice.

  “I’ll be there shortly.”

  Beth, his assistant, retreated, closing the door quietly. Gael pushed his earlier thoughts to the back of his mind and brought his focus to the current situation. His shipping company was auditioning a spokes-model, and he was directly involved in making the selection. A shortlist was ready, and today was the final cut.

  The one selected should have the perfect voice, body, and personality. However, Gael was secretly hoping for a mix of beauty and brains. He’d prepared a few questions he wanted to ask the contestants to help him choose.

  He strode back to his desk, picked up the file and rifled through the list. The girl from New York’s Classy Models was not in there. He’d expected to get her profile before the event, but it seemed that wasn’t to be. They’d promised to send their most expensive, well sought after model. She’d just finished a shoot for the infamous Sheer Fusion Fashion Magazine which sold for over three hundred dollars per copy. Only the wealthy could afford such a luxury magazine.

  As he was informed, that assignment made her a whopping one and a half million dollars before deductions. He was willing to double that amount for the contract period of one year and up the price for the second year if she did a great job.

  Having no clue what she looked like gave him pause. He’d hoped that he could at least pick her brain on another level, talk to her before the auditions. With her holding a Masters in Communication, she would perhaps make the ideal spokesperson.

  He was impressed with what he’d heard. Never had he met a model who could hold a decent conversation, let alone one to have gone to college. He should know, having ‘dated’ his fair share.

  Straightening his tie, he left the office, passing through the outer area and making his way to the elevator. The auditions were held in the pressroom on the eleventh floor, one floor below his office. Blue Atlantic Shipping occupied three floors of the industrial office complex in the Santa Cruz area.

  Within minutes, he was heading into the room, brushing past someone in a hoodie and dark glasses. He paused and turned, eyeing the boy from head to foot. Baggy jeans and equally baggy hoodie top zipped to the neck was what resulted from his scrutiny. He wasn’t concerned about hoodlums getting into the building because the security was tight enough. The young man being there only meant that he was part of the temporary staff, hired to assist with the auditions, was what Gael concluded. That was the only reason he’d be there or the only way he could have got in.

  “Hey, don’t just stand there, get me a bottle of water,” he addressed the youth. “Make it mineral. Cool, not cold.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The voice startled Gael. The smooth, satiny tone of the youth was definitely female. He fully turned and retraced his steps, eying the five feet nine-inch figure. He was certain she was around that height. By his estimation, he towered her by about four inches.

  “Who are you?” he asked, cocking a brow. “Remove the glasses.”

  Delicate hands reached up, reluctantly peeling away the glasses. Revealed were the most striking pair of hazel eyes. The person sighed, pulling back the hood, leaving her short crop reddish brown hair out in the open. Her bleached highlights ran in streaks along one side of her head.

  “Get me the water,” he repeated, moving off.

  “Is that what the models are supposed to do, fetch water?” she asked.

  Gael halted his steps and turned. “Model?”

  His eyes raked over her, taking in the small pert nose and makeup free face. He blinked and let his eyes drop to her chest, hoping for something to recover from the shock. Not to be so, as he tried to figure if there was anything beneath the top she was wearing. His eyes could make out nothing but flatness.

  “Model?” he repeated.

  His gaze traveled around the room, settling on a voluptuous blonde with expertly applied makeup. She was exactly what he thought the ideal model should look like. Yet, in front of him stood a girl with a boyish haircut and no breasts, and here she was telling him she was a model. Turning his head around, his eyes came back to the specimen before him. He blinked, trying to make sense of it.

  “I’m sorry; I think you have the wrong auditions. You’re not what we are looking for.”

  The girl’s eyes narrowed before she registered the realization of his words. Then she broke into a grin. He must admit that her smile was killer, but he needed sex appeal, and as far as his eye could see, she lacked the physical attributes he needed in his spokeswoman.

  “Okay, your loss,” she replied, turning and trotting from the room.

  “Yeah, right,” he muttered, watching her leave the room in her baggy jeans and sneakers.

  “Sir,” Beth’s voice interrupted him.

  He tore his eyes away from the retreating figure and turned to his assistant. As soon as he took his eyes away from the door, he erased the encounter from his mind. He allowed Beth to lead him to the chair prepared in front of the small stage they’d set up.

  “Where is she?” he asked, his focus now on picking the right girl for his business.

  “We heard from the front desk that she entered the building some time ago. She should be among the girls,” Beth replied. “They still haven’t sent her photo, so we don’t really know what she looks like.”

  “Okay, get me a bottle of water, I’m parched.”

  * * *

  “The arrogant bastard!” Zoe snickered as she left the building and headed to her rented car.

  She’d flown from New York to Santa Cruz because her agency insisted the job suited her well. What they were looking for was more than a pretty face. They were also looking for someone articulate enough to represent the company.

  Zoe Archer started modeling during high school at the age of fifteen, but that did not stop her from going to college. As soon as she’d saved enough money, she’d enrolled in NYC, did most of her credits while on the road and completed her Master in Communication two years ago. At twenty-four, she was the only full-time model in her circle with a college education. She was perhaps the only model in NY with a Masters Degree.

  As she slipped behind the wheel of the Honda Civic, she pondered the encounter a few minutes ago. The man took one look at her and decided she was not the type they wanted. She knew what the problem was. She didn’t have long flowing hair or wasn’t blonde enough. Oh, and her breasts were not large and fake.

  After returning from her last assignment, all she needed was a break, to relax. But Classy Models had already booked her for this. They told her that it was basically a done deal, and all she had to do was show up. She’d showed up, and what did she get? Contempt from Gael Matheson.

  She’d done her research on the CEO of the company, and the truth? She wasn’t surprised. His reputation preceded him as a man with a certain taste in women. It seemed Gael was using his personal preferences as a man to run his business.

  Zoe pushed the encounter to the back of her mind as her cell phone beeped. Ignoring it, she put the vehicle into gear and pulled away from the building. There was an issue she needed to deal with before it got out of hand, but for now, she’d return to her hotel and take a nice nap. She decided to forget about the piercing blue eyes of the man who rejected her and concentrate on getting some well-needed sleep.

  Chapter 2

  “I told you to get it sorted!” Gael’s frustration surfaced as he listened to the jet’s engineer tell him that the craft was not ready.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but due to the holidays, the parts ordered are taking longer to get here,” the man replied.

  “You’ve got to do better than that,” he said, slamming the receiver into its cradle.

  After a few seconds, he picked it up again and pressed the button to his personal assistant. “Beth, book me on the flight to Buffalo.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied before he lifted his finger.<
br />
  The day wasn’t going well for him. He loosened his tie, pulled it from around his neck, and then he unbuttoned his shirt sleeves. No matter how many years he’d been wearing a suit every day, he could not get used to having the tie on all day. He hated feeling anything close around his neck.

  Gael’s tension stiffened his neck so that he felt suffocated by the piece of garment. The girl didn’t show, yet he was told she had entered the building. All the girls he interviewed were accounted for. However, the one from Classy Models was not there. To make it worse, none of them was competent enough to do the job.

  If he were to hire on looks alone, they would all fit the role, but he needed more, and they all lacked that. Now, he’d have to fly to NY commercial to meet with the owner of a small company he was acquiring.

  If he’d known buying that jet would cause him so much stress, he would not have taken the deal. But the purchase had been too good to pass up at the time as an old actor was selling out his assets to pay off some debts. He was now regretting the decision to acquire the craft.

  His meeting was the following day, Christmas Eve, and if there was anything he hated, it was flying commercial. He leaned back in his office chair and picked up the phone. This thing with the model was eating at him, and he needed to speak with the head of the agency, ask them what happened.

  Pressing the button on the machine, he spoke to his assistant. “Beth, get me the head of the agency in New York on the phone right away.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied.

  Within two minutes, his line buzzed, and he pressed a button, putting the phone on speaker. “Mr. Matheson, how did it go?” a woman on the other end of the line asked.

  “Miss Anderson, it didn’t,” he replied, his tone even.

  “What do you mean?”

  He opened the file for the models, scanning the photos once more. “Your model didn’t show.”

  “That’s impossible. Zoe is always punctual, and many clients favor her. Are you sure you didn’t overlook her by accident? She tends to be a little different … er … what you would call mischievous.”

  “Explain,” he said, taking his eyes off the file, his forehead creasing.

  “Zoe sometimes pretends to be someone else, not to make the others uncomfortable. She is after all one of the highest paid in the industry. Her last project paid her one point five million dollars. An unprecedented amount for a magazine spread.”

  “Look, Miss Anderson, I can understand that this girl is important to your agency, but I’d rather she not play games with me. Either she needs this job, or she doesn’t.”

  “I understand, Mr. Matheson,” the woman replied. “It’s just that she kind of hates being in the spotlight.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, the other models no doubt would know her face, so she might have dressed like the girl next door.”

  Gael shook his head. The girl must be crazy not to show off her fame. On the other hand, it would give everyone a fair chance. He was impressed, but where was she? Why hadn’t she shown up?

  “Is it possible that she showed up and left because she didn’t like the gig?” he asked.

  Miss Anderson paused a second before replying, “I don’t think so. She was keen on doing something different. Zoe is a very intelligent girl. She did most of her college credits while traveling the world on assignments, graduating in the top ten percent in her class.”

  Gael folded his fist and closed his eyes as he listened to the woman gushing over the model who was a no show.

  “That doesn’t help me now, does it?” he grated, trying to remain calm.

  “I’ll see what I can do and have her meet you,” she suggested.

  He rolled his neck to relieve some of the tension. “If she can get here before midday tomorrow, that would be ideal.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Matheson. Thank you for understanding.”

  “She’d better get her shit together, or we find someone else.”

  With that, he hung up the phone and scanned the photos of the girls before him. They were all pretty, but based on the questions he’d asked them all, they scored below his passing grade of five. Most of them scored zero, and a few scored one while one scored two and a half. Picking up a pen, he placed an asterisk beside her photo. This one he’d have to call if this Zoe person did not show.

  A soft knock on the door broke through his thoughts. He lifted his eyes as Beth pushed the door. She carried a file folder, which she placed on his desk.

  “These are the documents which you will need to take with you. Your flight leaves at nine in the morning. You should arrive in Buffalo in time for your meeting at three thirty,” she informed him. “Everything you need is in the file.”

  “Nine you said?” he asked

  Beth narrowed her eyes. “Yes. Why?”

  “That girl may return. The woman at the agency is tracking her down. If she comes back after I’m gone, have her contact me ASAP.”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Meanwhile, back at the Ortega Hotel a few miles from Blue Atlantic Shipping, Zoe swiped the keycard to unlock her room door. Once inside, she peeled off her clothes, throwing them on the bed. Left in her baby blue lace underwear, she dumped herself on the sofa and switched on the television.

  Though she was staring at the screen, she could not help thinking about Gael Matheson. His piercing Persian blue eyes loomed before her. She shuddered as their steeliness penetrated her. They’d bore into hers like steel piercing flesh.

  Even his height intimidated as he’d leaned slightly forward while scrutinizing her. His height and the breadth of his shoulder made her feel small and insignificant. At that moment, she could feel his intense maleness. It was the kind of fierceness that men liked touting as being Alpha.

  Men like Gael enjoyed making people cringe. She could see the amusement in his eyes, behind the hardness.

  “Argh,” she closed her eyes, and his face presented itself behind her lids. “Arrogant bastard!”

  The urge to wipe the smirk off his face was deep. She knew men like him, and they believed they owned the world, with their good looks and money. His angled jaw with his neatly cropped dark brown hair and light stubble on his cheeks was the epitome of the men she hated the most. They were too sexy, but most of all, dangerous.

  The more his face came to her, the more she got the urge to punch him in the stomach. Zoe doubled her fist and punched the air, imagining hitting Gael. However, she knew that she’d perhaps end up breaking her slender wrists on his washboard abs. Men like that worked out like they’re training for the Olympics.

  She’d looked back as he turned away from her. She saw the way his thighs bulged in his slacks and knew he was a powerful man. But that did nothing for her.

  “Gosh, I wish I could make him regret this. What I wouldn’t give to watch him squirm!”

  Her phone ringing interrupted her thoughts, and she irritably reached for it on the coffee table where she had placed it. The room was beautifully furnished with a bed, a tiny area for relaxing, and a small kitchenette. She’d taken a room with a balcony overlooking the beach, and she wished she didn’t have to fly back to NYC anytime soon.

  “Hello,” she said, her voice registering her ire.

  “Zoe?” Miss Anderson’s voice came through the line.

  She rolled her eyes, as she knew what was coming next. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “What’s going on, Zoe? How come you haven’t shown up for the assignment?”

  If she said she showed, but the guy rejected her, Florine Anderson would go ballistic. As is, the woman was overprotective of her. She couldn’t blame her; she’d been like a mother to her for the last decade.

  “I changed my mind,” she found herself saying.

  Zoe had no clue why she lied. She supposed she didn’t want Florine to create an issue from this, or perhaps she wanted to serve Gael Matheson some of his own sauce. How she’d do that was beyond her scope of thought at the momen
t. In any event, she didn’t want to push it.

  “Why, did something happen?” Florine asked, concern evident in her voice.

  Zoe crossed her fingers. “No, not at all. I’m just tired, and by the time I got here, I felt that this wasn’t for me.”

  “Okay, I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but you could have called to let me know. Matheson has been waiting for you to show.”

  “Yeah, right,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing. I said I’m sorry.”

  Florine sighed. “Alright, I’ll let him know.”

  “Florine, can you do me a favor?”

  “What?”

  “Wait a few days; I might change my mind. Don’t call him just yet.”

  “Hmm … well … I don’t know,” Florine sounded uncertain.

  “You said he was still waiting for me to show, right? Give me some time; I may change my mind. I just need to rest.”

  “Will you call me if you don’t change your mind?”

  “Yes, I will,” Zoe replied, biting down her bottom lip.

  “Are you sure about this?” Florine asked.

  “Have I ever lied to you?” Zoe made a cross on her heart, praying she wouldn’t burn in hell.

  “Okay, I’ll wait until tomorrow. I’ll call him with an answer one way or the other.”

  A grin spread across her face as she hung up the phone. Let Gael wait. She’d show up when hell froze over. He would find another model. But from what she gathered, he was still waiting for her. That meant he hadn’t picked any of the girls she’d seen at the auditions.

  It may not be a big deal and at the most may cause him inconvenience. It still gave her some satisfaction knowing she’d frustrate him just a little. She wished she could see the look on his face when he learned she turned him down. If things went as planned, he’d never know she was the one he rejected.

  Chapter 3