A Model Hero (2 page)

Gretchen flushed, but she didn’t flinch. “She’s fortunate to have a client such as yourself with a healthy respect for professional boundaries. Going forward, she has also agreed to institute such boundaries. Despite being out of the loop for a year, your name continues to top company wish lists. Naturally, you are a critical part of the Zola rebuilding plan.”

“Not interested.” The fact that he hadn’t spoken to anyone in the business in the past year should have been enough clue. The scandal had provided a perfect cover to walk away and let everyone assume he’d been burned by Zola’s blackened reputation, even after she’d been cleared of sexual blackmail.

“I’m sorry my mother’s behavior drove you away, but if you truly had no interest in the industry, you would have asked to be released from your contract.”

The psychoanalysis, while entertaining, had no basis in fact. He never met with Zola to explain his need to take a break, and then the surgery and recovery consumed him. He’d forgotten he still had an agent until Gretchen started contacting him. “Fine. She’s fired.”

Her emerald eyes narrowed. Even better, her chest rose and fell beneath her shirt, giving away her agitation. “The solution isn’t so simple. If you choose to terminate the relationship, which must be done in writing, you have to wait for the nonrenewal period.”

“When does that come up?”

“Thirty days.”

Not a problem. He could wait a month.

“Which means any modeling jobs you take on in September will continue to go through the Zola Agency.”

“A nonissue, since I’m not pursuing any prospects.”

“But if the right opportunity came along, you would change your mind,” she said. “You must be bored to death sitting alone in this beautiful house.”

Bored, no. Restless, yes. His social life had become limited to flirting with the nurses who only knew him in the context of a patient. He’d lost touch with his colleagues and friends from the past, unable to stomach conversations about tiny blemishes and the extra work of camouflaging and airbrushing them. He refused to discuss his new flaw and the impossibility of ignoring its existence. “If I am, then I need to find a new career. I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m washed up.”

“For a female, maybe. You’re a man. You have some lucrative years you can cash in on.”

“I don’t need the money.” He wasn’t bragging. His career had been very good to him. He’d had a team of people helping him manage his career until he’d quietly parted ways and secured them positions with other top models.

“Do you have a retirement plan to keep you in this level of comfort for the next sixty years or more? You’re handsome enough now that people will pay for your image. Don’t expect to bank on your beautiful face when you’re wrinkled with a big gut but no savings.”

As a consultant for Zola’s agency and as someone who’d made her career in finance, she could make a darn good guess at how much money he’d made. He’d stopped bothering with an accountant, except at tax time, which left him in the uncomfortable position of suspecting she had a better handle on how long his savings would last than he did. “Modeling’s not my only talent. I’m not just another pretty face.”

Gretchen raised a brow. “What else can you do?”

Make you breathe fast with desire, make your muscles contract around me, make you scream my name as you orgasm
. He didn’t know if he could, but he sure as hell wanted to. He tamped down his arousal and concentrated on a practical answer.

“Act,” he said, keeping the response short, so she wouldn’t hear the need in his voice. The small parts from his past had been limited to shirtless roles. He hadn’t been just a pretty face; he’d also been a sexy chest. Okay, so it was no long a viable option either.

“If you want to jumpstart that career, take the highest-profile modeling jobs you can get. DeAngelo Vurberuchi is starting an underwear line. He’s shooting next week right here in New York. All you have to do is roll out of bed. They’ll have a limousine at your door to take you into the city.”

Eighteen months ago Kyle would have jumped at the chance to work for the famous Italian designer. The advertising for the new line guaranteed Vurberuchi’s chosen man would turn into a sex god of epic proportions.

But the job was out of the question. Even if Kyle accepted, DeAngelo wouldn’t want him. His reputation for bringing a perfect body that didn’t need trick lighting or anything beyond the usual airbrushing had been destroyed. If he couldn’t be the real deal, he wouldn’t fake it and pretend he had anything worthy of a second glance.

He rose to his feet. “No. I’ll send Zola an official termination letter, effective as soon as the nonrenewal period comes up. You and I have no need for further contact unless you’d like to join me for dinner on Saturday night.”

Beginning to stand, Gretchen paused, her knuckles turning white on the armrests. “Dinner with you?”

He offered her a hand up as he nodded. Although he’d blurted the request without thinking, a date with Gretchen would be the perfect start to his new nonmodel life as he figured out how to reinvent himself. Again.

She accepted his hand and stood, bringing her lush body within inches of his.

His hormones sprang to life with a lust stronger than he’d felt in years, long before he’d lost his physical perfection. “Not a business dinner, either.”

“Sounds lovely. Shall I pick you up at, say, seven?”

“I asked you out. On a date. Not a corporate meeting. I’ll pick you up.” He suppressed a smile, not wanting her to see how much he enjoyed the challenge she presented his rusty seduction skills.

“Excellent. I’ll see you on Saturday.” She took a business card from her purse and jotted her personal address on the back. Holding it out in her left hand, she offered a handshake with her right.

He wouldn’t treat this negotiation like a business deal, but he wouldn’t leave her disappointed either. He took the card and slid it in his pocket. Then he curved his hand around her fingertips and lifted them to his lips.

Caressing her with his mouth, he savored the awareness jolting every nerve ending. He would make her forget about this modeling nonsense. Saturday night he would end his self-imposed isolation and make up for the personal connections he’d been neglecting.

Gretchen’s body shook uncontrollably by the time she slid behind the wheel of her car. She drove a block away. After rounding a curve, she pulled over to collect herself.

Oh. My. God
.

She’d spent the better part of the hour alone with Kyle Ramsey, inside his house. And she’d only faltered and acted like an idiot once.

Not bad considering he took the prize for the most gorgeous man to walk the earth. Coming face-to-face with nearly every major male model in the world at some point in her life provided her with the criteria to make the judgment.

She’d anticipated multiple scenarios of how the visit would play out, but she hadn’t expected an invitation for a date or the kiss. She pressed her hand to her lips where his mouth had touched. He could have any woman he wanted, yet, he’d asked her.

Sure, she’d forced his attention by knocking on his door, and no one else had been around. But she hadn’t forced him to ask her out.

Going on a date with Kyle wouldn’t be any kind of hardship. Except on her nerves. Even if he was playing an elaborate joke, she couldn’t turn down the chance to convince him to return to modeling. Her mother’s agency depended on his cooperation, and Gretchen depended on the Zola Modeling Agency’s revival to get her mother settled in her own place so Gretchen could have her life back.

Acting on her attraction to Kyle did not factor into the plan.

***

Saturday evening, Gretchen paced her bedroom, trying to find an outfit that didn’t scream business but appeared professional enough she wouldn’t look like she was throwing herself at him. She had no intention of joining the never-ending stream of women hoping to be so blessed as to grace Kyle Ramsey’s bed. She would not contribute to his overinflated ego on a personal level, even if she was forced to use professional flattery by tossing around the big names who wanted to cash in on his perfect body.

Staring at the pile of clothing rejects amassed on her bed, she sighed. Her mother was right. Black slacks, a black top, and an artfully arranged multicolored scarf would draw attention to her face and keep everyone from wondering why Kyle Ramsey had to resort to dating someone who took up the space of three of his usual-size dates. Of course, no outfit would keep her from wondering.

The doorbell rang at five till seven before she’d considered whether to wear stilettos, pumps, or flats. He was early, and she wasn’t ready, in more ways than one.

She grabbed the pumps and called out, “The door’s for me, Mother. You don’t need to get up from the couch.”

Which hadn’t been an issue for eight months because Mother had practically grown roots there, but the one time Gretchen didn’t want her to move, she jumped into action. By the time Gretchen hopped down the hall, stepping into her shoes, Mother had already swung open the front door. Her shocked expression, identical to the one on Kyle’s face, might have been amusing, if Gretchen hadn’t been so nervous.

“Kyle!” Mother reached up to hug him.

“Zola, what a pleasant surprise.” He took control, planting a chaste kiss on each of her cheeks.

“White pants after Labor Day on any other man would be a complete disaster, but you, sweetheart, can carry off anything. Oh, Kyle, I’m so glad you’re back. You were always my best boy. The cutest one, too.”

She placed her index finger on his chin and slid it down his neck. Kyle intercepted her hand and redirected it to her side.

Good grief. Her mother hadn’t learned a thing from the sex scandal. She was attempting to seduce her last remaining client. Gretchen nudged between them and took him by the elbow. “Kyle and I are leaving. Lock the door when you go to bed, Mother. I have my key.”

“You two are going out?” She appeared confused. Then her face cleared. “Oh, of course. You have agency business to discuss. Gretchen, you should have said something sooner. I would have made myself presentable to join you.”

“Gretchen has agreed to be my date tonight. I look forward to chatting with you another time,” Kyle said. He gave her mother’s hand a final squeeze then turned away.

“At least you wore a flattering outfit for once. Order a salad with dressing on the side and don’t eat more than three bites,” Mother stage-whispered.

“Thanks for the advice.” Cheeks burning with humiliation, Gretchen snapped the door closed.

“So your mom is visiting?” Kyle asked, his fingertips gliding over her elbow.

“Uh, yeah.” In retrospect, she should have warned him before he came over, but she’d thought she could sneak out the door without the two of them crossing paths.

“How long is she staying?”

“Eight months and counting.”

“I’m sorry.” His tone was heartfelt enough to convince her he remembered how difficult Mother could be without the cover of flirting and flattery.

“So am I.” Gretchen laughed. “Anyway, if you’d prefer to skip the restaurant and talk about your modeling options in private, we can head to my office.”

“This is a date, and I’m hoping you’ll become so enamored with me over dinner you’ll let me convince you to come back to my place where we can have a private meeting that has nothing to do with modeling or anything else remotely business related.” He winked.

She caught her breath. He was a master at the art of flirting, and he meant nothing by it, except to prove he wouldn’t make this critical business deal easy for anyone. Still, she’d never found herself in the crosshairs of his extensive charm and sex appeal before, and she couldn’t pretend not to be thrilled and flattered by the attention. “Well, I’m glad to see we’re both honest about our agendas for the evening.”

“This may surprise you,” Kyle said as they approached his car. “But I haven’t been on a date in a while.”

“So you decided to practice on me?” That was a little too much honesty about his agenda for her to handle, but it explained why he’d chosen her.

“No, I’m trying to tell you I’m a different person than I was a year ago. My life has changed. Women don’t throw themselves at me like they used to.”

“If they don’t, it’s because you’re holed up in your house where they can’t find you.”

He dipped his handsome head, his golden-brown hair catching the last rays of evening sun. “Regardless, I like to think I’ve become a bit more discerning.”

Did you hear, Mother?
Of course, she hadn’t, and they weren’t really on a date. Gretchen had agreed to this evening to convince him to model again precisely so she wouldn’t have to deal with her mother’s assessment of her many faults on a daily basis. “I appreciate your flattery, although I assure you it’s not necessary.”

He opened the door to his car. Then he turned and glided his hand over her cheek. “It is necessary when I speak the truth.”

She melted at his touch and sank into the passenger seat, no longer caring whether he spoke the truth or was pouring on the charm. If he took her straight to his house, she’d saunter in and strip her clothes off without a second thought. His touch was a drug, and already she had a serious addiction problem.

He drove to an elegant, trendy restaurant instead. She recognized the popular venue of the modeling community despite having never eaten there herself. He might have told her he didn’t want to be part of the industry, but his actions spoke differently. This was his life. She had a mission to convince him he needed the Zola Agency at his side when he reentered it. She couldn’t let him sit on the sidelines for thirty days until his contract expired and her mother had no claim on him and lost the chance to revive her career.

After Kyle handed his keys to the valet, the maître d’ led them to a prime table in view of the other patrons. As much as she didn’t want people wondering what he was doing with her, Gretchen wished she’d worn brighter colors, so she’d draw more attention to the man at her side.