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  His eyes snapped down to her equipment and then he grinned.

  “I’d assumed that already,” he said.

  Great. Way to go. Make a good impression on the agent. She realized she was still holding his hand and dropped it hastily. Why was he here, she wondered. Agents made bookings, they didn’t generally show up to shoots. Maybe Nat Lee was demanding, maybe she made him show up. Wanted to get her money’s worth. It wouldn’t surprise her.

  “It’s so good of you to step in,” Brooks was saying.

  He looked at the equipment again, frowning at it, then flashing a dazzling capped smile. He picked up two of the smallest bags.

  “Let’s get you set up over here,” he said carrying the bags to a corner.

  Kate picked up four more, fingers stretching and whitening with the weight of them, and followed.

  “Aryn Gould broke his leg, can you believe it?” he said, as he deposited the bags. “I mean, I don’t see why a broken leg should stop him taking pictures, but there you have it. It was pure luck that your name was mentioned and you were available. I’m told you’re quite the big new thing.”

  Kate had no idea what to say to this, so she said nothing at all, concentrated on bringing the rest of her equipment over. When she got back to the corner, Brooks was grinning and holding out a bottle of water misted with condensation.

  “It’s only going to get hotter,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  He paused for a second and she could feel his eyes on her and remembered what Mel had said about him being handsy. It felt like he was judging her so she bent over and started to unzip bags.

  “I’m seriously grateful,” he said. “You’ve saved the shoot and I do appreciate it. If there’s ever anything I can do, something to show my gratitude...”

  He let the words hang in the air and Kate was so taken aback by the implication that she swallowed and laughed.

  “Well, if you know any other models,” she said, blurting out the first words that she thought of. “I’m looking for someone for a portfolio shoot, so...”

  She knew immediately that she’d said the wrong thing. This wasn’t how it was done. Agents like Brooks Lyon didn’t represent the kinds of models that did portfolio shoots. Not that she’d expected him to help anyway, her words had just been a way to fill an increasingly uncomfortable silence.

  “What kind of shoot?” he asked, finally.

  And he was only being polite.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, bending back to her bags. “Just a couple of days up in the mountains. A nature shoot. Nothing big. I just...” She swallowed. “I shouldn’t have said anything, forget it.”

  She dared to peek up and she saw disconcertingly pale blue eyes regarding her. He had a half-smile on his face.

  “If anyone comes up, I’ll be sure to let you know,” he said.

  And then the service elevator clanked and whined. Someone else was coming up. Brooks’ footsteps clicked on the floor as he rushed to meet whoever it was and Kate’s whole body filled with relief. Until she remembered just who they were waiting for. Then the internal shaking started again.

  ✽✽✽

  Three hours. Three hot and dusty hours they waited. By the elevator the makeup team had set themselves up in the cool air coming up from the shaft, asserting that they had to keep their products from melting. Under one of the windows a large woman, tape measure around her neck, sat sweatily next to a rack of clothes fanning herself with a paperback. And Brooks paced back and forth, getting angrier by the minute. Kate sat, back pressed against the cool wall wondering why she’d been nervous. Obviously, Nat Lee wasn’t going to show.

  She checked her phone. Just after two. Maybe she should go. She was lighter at the thought of not needing to see the model. But disappointed just the same. Disappointed because she’d convinced herself this was a chance, the chance she needed. She was just summoning up her courage to tell Brooks she was leaving when the elevator shuddered into movement.

  “About time,” Brooks said through clenched teeth.

  Kate immediately bent over her cameras, checking settings that had already been checked a thousand times.

  “Nat, darling!” she heard Brooks say as the elevator slid open.

  There was the smacking of cheek kisses and she could see someone tall and fragile looking from the corner of her eye.

  “We’re ready to get started people,” Brooks announced.

  There was movement as they all tried to shake off the laziness of the heat and Kate could hear footsteps and knew that Brooks and Nat were approaching her and she couldn’t bring herself to look up. But the footsteps stopped before they reached her.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” she heard Brooks hiss.

  She bent further over, trying to hide her face, knowing he wasn’t talking to her, but not wanting to look like she was listening.

  “Brooks, baby.”

  Nat’s voice was child-like, petulant and pleading at the same time.

  “Don’t ‘Brooks baby’ me. You show up three hours late to a shoot, hungover as hell with your eyes glazed. Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing, Nat. You look like shit. Where were you last night?”

  “Just at home, baby. Getting an early night. I guess my alarm clock didn’t go off. And that stupid maid you hired didn’t wake me up either.”

  Even Kate knew that was a lie, could hear it in her voice. There was a pause and then she heard the beep of a phone being unlocked. Sweaty fingers grabbed at the screen, the sound quite audible.

  “Fuck!”

  Brooks’ voice was louder than he’d intended because as soon as he spoke, he lowered his volume again.

  “You’re everywhere Nat. Everywhere. There’s a picture of you headlining on Stars-Signed falling out of a cab.” A pause and more clicking. “And another of you all over that girl you did the shoot with last week. What the fuck?”

  “I was just having fun,” Nat’s voice said. “It’s nothing. No different from usual. Why’re you getting all uptight all of a sudden, Brooks baby, huh?”

  The model’s voice was starting to grate on her nerves. It was wheedling, a little girl voice put on just to worm her way out of trouble. Kate was sure that if Nat were speaking to a woman her tone would be completely different. Unbelievably though, it seemed to be working. Because when Brooks answered her, his words were just a little softer, just a little less angry.

  “You know why.”

  Kate had to restrain herself from looking up, to stop herself from asking why. It was clear that they either hadn’t noticed her or didn’t care she was listening. She rather thought the first, since Brooks had dragged Nat over here, out of earshot of the others in the large space.

  There was the sound of a sigh that Kate could only assume came from Nat.

  “You’re thirty-two years old, Nat. You can’t model forever. Sure, you’re at the top of your game, but it’s all downhill from here. It’s harsh, but that’s the business.”

  “Brooks, I–”

  “No, let me finish. There are other opportunities, lucrative ones, good ones. And I keep putting your name out there. You’re this close to getting a TV gig, a recurring role. But I keep stumbling on the same issue. The stations don’t want to hire a liability. If you want a career after modeling, then you need to clean your act up.”

  “I do want that.”

  And just as she’d known when Nat was lying, Kate knew that this was the truth. She could hear the honesty in the words.

  “Then the bad press needs to stop. The partying needs to stop. You and Jake need to settle down.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “You’re not trying hard enough.” A short pause. “We could check you into rehab. That might be enough to guarantee your good behavior.”

  Rehab? Really? Were things that bad? A tiny piece of hardness around Kate’s heart crumbled. This woman had hurt her and hurt her badly. But that was a long time ago. And it didn’t mean that she couldn’t pity
her.

  “Like rehab makes good press,” Nat said. “No, I’m trying. It’ll be fine, Brooks. Promise.”

  “You’re on your last chance here, Nat. I mean it. I can’t keep putting your name up for jobs only to have you turned down because of some stupid escapade in the press. Pretty soon there’ll be no one in the city that’ll hire you for more than opening a supermarket. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You need to get out of town. Get away from the drugs, the alcohol, the parties.”

  “I’ll go to the Caribbean.”

  Kate almost snorted at this and stopped herself just in time.

  “Not what I meant, Nat. You need to get away somewhere quiet, somewhere away from the people you normally surround yourself with.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Make sure you do.”

  And just as Kate was wondering how she was going to extricate herself from this situation, how she was going to move without drawing attention to the fact that she was close enough to hear every word that had just been said, her leg twitched with cramp, kicking into a hard case and making a knock that echoed in the high ceilinged room.

  She cringed and there was the sound of movement behind her. Slowly, she raised her eyes. A pair of delicate gold sandals led up smooth, tanned legs. The frayed ends of jean shorts brushed against angular knees. The tail of a white shirt covered rounded hips and her breath caught in her throat as she followed the line of buttons up to a glimpse of olive cleavage, to a graceful neck, a firm jaw. Her heart thudded inside her, so hard she thought it might be audible.

  And then, gaze drawn upward against her will, she met those eyes. Those dark, liquid, cat-like eyes, flashing into hers, forcing a connection of electricity between them both. Warmth flooded through her, blood rising to the surface of her skin and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. There was a flicker of something that could almost be recognition and a million thoughts streamed through her head at once.

  She should never have agreed to this, she should never have thought she’d go unrecognized, she shouldn’t be here, she shouldn’t be falling into those eyes, and why the hell had the heat been turned up ten degrees? She was physically shaking now.

  “And who the fuck are you?”

  As soon as the words dropped from Nat’s mouth the lens cover she’d been holding fell to the ground, clattering and spinning its way across the wooden floor.

  “This is Kate, our photographer,” said Brooks’ voice from very far away.

  The flash in the eyes was gone, replaced by flat boredom.

  “Get on with your damn job then,” Nat spat, and turned away, stalking towards the makeup crew.

  ✽✽✽

  It wasn’t until later, when the job was done and the light was turning orange and Kate, still unrecognized, was putting her cameras away that Brooks sidled up to her.

  “Nice work,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  She was hot and sweaty and drained from the drama of thinking she might be recognized at any minute. Her fingers hurt from pressing buttons and changing camera settings, and her back ached from bending and twisting to get the shots she needed. She wanted to go home. She wanted a shower and a drink and an evening quiet enough to bore a mid-western housewife.

  “I’ll reserve judgment, of course, until I see the final shots. But from what I’ve seen already, Mel wasn’t wrong about you.”

  She met his pale blue eyes again and forced herself to smile.

  “Thank you,” she said as genuinely as she could muster.

  His lips pushed outwards and his gaze shifted to the side. He obviously wanted to say something. She steeled herself for the inevitable pick up line, the invitation to dinner, the promise of more work. But that wasn’t what came.

  “That portfolio shoot you were talking about,” he said instead. “A couple of days? Up in the mountains? Away from the city?”

  She nodded, confused.

  “Nat’ll do it,” he said.

  “Wait, what...”

  He held up both hands.

  “Leave it with me,” he grinned. “Thank me later. Nat will do the shoot.”

  And then he strode away, leaving her with her mouth gaping open and closed like a beached fish.

  Chapter Three

  White sun shone through the windows of the studio, an iced coffee cup dripped on the table. Kate rubbed her eyes and focussed again on her computer screen. Eight days had passed. Eight days during which she’d alternated between panic and elation at the thought of Nat Lee starring in her portfolio shoot. Eight days during which Brooks Lyon hadn’t called. And as the days had gone by, she’d come to realize that his word had meant nothing. Maybe he was toying with her, maybe this had been his way of hitting on her and her lack of response rendered his promise invalid. Whatever the reason, he hadn’t called, and she was resigned now to not having to see Nat again.

  Except, of course, on her computer. Thumbnails of the shoot littered her screen and she patiently clicked through each one, dividing the pictures into two files, keepers and ditchers. And every time she clicked she was confronted yet again with the smooth, feline beauty of the model.

  Makeup had taken an age, long enough for Kate to soothe her nerves just a little. And when Nat had finally appeared she had exuded calm, serene beauty that betrayed nothing of the red-eyed, hungover woman that had stepped into the warehouse.

  “Right, left. Chin up, back arched,” Kate had barked.

  Through the viewfinder she had no qualms about being recognized. The barrier of the camera between them had made Nat seem distant, untouchable. And she’d done her job, getting increasingly frustrated as Nat refused to follow her directions. Finally, she’d practically thrown the camera down, taking two steps towards the model, ready to grasp her limbs, turn her chin, pose her in the way she wanted. Only Brooks had stopped her.

  “Don’t,” he breathed into her ear, clutching at her elbow. “Stop being so controlling. Trust her to do her job. That’s when the magic will happen.”

  And the only reason she’d listened to him was because that brief interruption had given her time to think about what she was doing. Time to realize that she was about to not just approach Nat Lee, but to touch her, to glare into her eyes. So she stepped back behind her camera.

  Without instruction, Nat had eased into the photoshoot, her poses flowing and graceful. It was these pictures, the ones taken without any direction from Kate herself, that filled the ‘keep’ folder on her desktop. It was these that were the stunning stars of the show.

  “Jesus.”

  She stretched again, slurping iced coffee through a straw and rubbing her eyes again. A large photo filled her screen. Nat posed profile to the camera, arm sweeping up over her head like she was about to make a courtly bow, a whisper of silk scarf trailing behind her. She was so beautiful it made Kate’s heart hurt.

  How, she thought, was it fair that someone so toxic, so bad, a bully, a drunk, a junkie, got to look like that? Without thinking her hand reached up and she traced a finger down the curve of Nat’s cheekbone. A thrill started in her stomach, a bubbling of warmth that she recognized as lust but dismissed.

  “So she’s hot. So what? She’s a bitch.”

  The words sounded so abrupt and out of place that Kate laughed aloud, and was still laughing when her phone buzzed on the table next to her.

  She picked it up and saw the words ‘unknown number’ flashing on the screen. But she shrugged. She was a freelance photographer, the days of knowing who was calling were over. If she never answered an unknown number again she’d never have new clients.

  “Brooks Lyon here.”

  Her heart dropped into her stomach and lay there throbbing.

  “Uh, hi.”

  “Is this Kate? The photographer?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m expecting to see copies of the prints you’re sending to the magazine on my desk by five.”

  So that’s why he wa
s calling. Her heart pulsed back into a semi-normal rhythm.

  “I’m working on them right now,” she said. “They’ll be with you ASAP.”

  “Fantastic.” She heard the sound of a car horn and Brooks muttered something that she didn’t hear before his voice came back clearly. “About that other thing, the nature project, whatever it was.”

  And boom, her heart went right back to palpitations. A bead of sweat tickled her hairline.

  “Mm-hmm,” was all she managed.

  “I’m going to need you to go over to Nat’s place and give her the details. I’ll have my assistant email you the address.”

  And thankfully she wasn’t quite as mute as the last time he’d mentioned the project.

  “I can send everything by email,” she said quickly.

  “No, no, that won’t do. She’ll just say she didn’t get it. Face to face is best. Just go on over there and tell her what you need. I’ve booked it into her schedule for next weekend, that’s the fifteenth and sixteenth, though it’s best if you leave on the fourteenth.”

  “Why?” she asked curiously.

  “Because it’s a Friday night and if you don’t then come Saturday morning you’ll be dragging a comatose half-corpse up a damn mountain,” he said, words clipped and short. “Which reminds me. This is a huge favor I’m doing you.”

  There was a pause where she was obviously supposed to say something.

  “Uh-huh.” Eloquent, but it seemed to do the job.

  “In return, I expect something from you. There’s to be no drinking, no drugs, no kind of funny business at all up there.”

  Kate almost laughed. Her grandfather’s old, two-room cabin was hardly an LA club. Other than a bottle of medicinal whiskey she didn’t think there’d been contraband in the house since it was built.

  “Right,” she said carefully.

  “You’ll need to check her luggage,” Brooks said.

  And this was where she bridled.

  “No, I’m not going through her stuff. What do you think I am? Some kind of babysitter? She’s a grown woman!”