A Model Hero (3 page)

Since she couldn’t change her clothing, she focused on other tools to remind him he still owned this turf. She returned her menu to the waiter without glancing it. “Mr. Ramsey will order for me. He’s familiar with what’s good here, and I trust his judgment.”

“Just because I know what other people think is good doesn’t mean it will be good for you,” Kyle said. “I want you to tell me what you like, Gretchen.”

She squeezed her thighs together. Whether he intended the double entendre or not, her lusty mind started cataloging all the things she’d like him to do to her. “Why don’t you order what you think I’ll like, and if you’re wrong, we’ll do it all over again until we get it right?”

“If you keep making those kinds of promises, we’ll never make it through dinner.” After a meaningful pause, he shifted his gaze to the waiter. “A bottle of your best chardonnay. Stuffed mushrooms for the appetizer. Parmesan crusted tilapia. And key lime pie with a shot of Bailey’s for dessert.”

“Excellent choices. I will be back immediately with the wine.” True to his word, the waiter reappeared so quickly Gretchen didn’t have a chance to collect her thoughts.

She looked around the dining area as she sipped. Several people at a far table appeared vaguely familiar. Maybe Kyle would recognize them if she mentioned it. She was here to convince him to model as her mother’s client, and she needed to stay on track, not fantasize about the pleasures she’d find in his bed.

“I’ve never heard the story of how you got into modeling, other than being ridiculously handsome, of course,” she said, refocusing her attention. Her mother had signed him on within weeks of his high school graduation, but she didn’t know anything about his life before then. “As a kid, did you go through magazines and imagine yourself as one of the guys posing?”

“No. I was too busy playing GI Joe with my best friend. We planned to go into the military together.”

“What happened?”

“He did. I didn’t.” Kyle picked up his wineglass and downed the contents.

Okay
. Perhaps the friends had fought and gone their separate ways. She treaded carefully, so she wouldn’t upset him and end the conversation. “Is he still in the military?”

“Yeah, in Afghanistan. He was in Iraq, then stationed stateside for a bit, and now on a second tour in Afghanistan. He has a wife and two little babies still on the base.”

Not a falling out if he kept up on the other man’s family status. Despite having a life of fame and luxury, Kyle sounded envious of his friend’s service and sacrifice. “Why didn’t you enlist, too?”

He shrugged but didn’t meet her gaze as he refilled both their glasses. “Modeling came calling and offered me a heck of a lot higher salary than the Army.”

“So, why are you turning down the money now? Did you finally decide to join the Army?”

“I’m too old. I don’t have anything to offer.”

“The Army or modeling?”

“Both,” he said with finality.

He’d used the age excuse last time, and she’d assured him it wasn’t an issue. She couldn’t force him to provide a legitimate reason for his decision, but she wouldn’t let him hide behind this one either.

“I can’t speak for the Army, but I can speak for the modeling community. You have plenty to offer, and companies are interested. In September, designers are booking for next year’s spring fashion shows and doing photo shoots for their spring and summer catalogs. You can show off your biceps in a tight T-shirt then throw the shirt over your shoulder and showcase your perfect abs.”

“What makes you think they’re perfect?”

He’d always been the ultimate in dreamy perfection. From what she’d seen so far, not a single thing had changed in the past year, but she’d been around models enough to know the merest hint of a blemish on their perfect bodies was the equivalent of a national disaster. “If for some bizarre reason they aren’t, they will be with the right lighting, a little airbrush, and the proverbial ‘sucking it in.’”

“Then I’ll wait until I’m ninety-five, my teeth are missing, my abs are below the waistband of my pants, and my savings is depleted before I jump back in the game and let all your fancy technology make me look twenty-one again.”

As much as she appreciated the reminder a perfect body didn’t equal a perfect personality, she wouldn’t let him stall her mission. She dug out what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. “I guess you’ll have to invite me to your place tonight, so I can check the positioning of your abs and see what else you might have tucked inside those sexy white pants.”

Instead of winking and repeating his open invitation to his house, his expression darkened and then shut down. “No.”

***

Kyle had lost his touch, or maybe he’d never had a “touch” because he’d never needed one. He’d looked forward to this date with Gretchen all week. The way her cheeks flushed pink with each compliment then turned bright red when he put his hands on her, tempted him to no end. Yet despite his decree of no business, she’d steered the conversation to the off-limits topic, and he hadn’t done a thing to stop her.

“No?” Gretchen repeated, all color gone from her cheeks. “Of course not. I apologize for throwing myself at you.” She lifted her wineglass and gulped half the golden liquid.

Wait. What?
He replayed the words in his mind. He was so focused on keeping his secret under wraps he missed the first real play she’d made for his affections. And, judging from her intense mortification, the only one she’d ever make. He reached across the table, covering her hand with his own. “I didn’t reject you personally. I was putting an end to the business discussion.”

She looked as though she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t argue. Nor did she move her hand from beneath his. “Perhaps we could switch to a less volatile topic. Politics? Religion?”

Kyle laughed. Damn, he liked her. If she wasn’t trying to convince him to return to modeling, he’d enjoy a spirited political or religious debate with her. He might be even take the opposite side of an issue just to fire her up. “How about favorite color? Mine’s emerald, the exact shade of your eyes.”

“My one acceptable feature, inherited from my mother. She’ll be pleased you approve.”

“What do you mean? Your ‘one acceptable feature’? You’re beautiful, Gretchen. Granted, it’s hard to tell what your body looks like under so much black; I assume you’re attending a funeral as soon as this date is over. But damn, you have the sexiest breasts and hips. I want nothing more than to put my hands on you—”

“Kyle Ramsey, is that really you?” A shrill female voice cut across the restaurant, as patrons whipped around and gawked at the voluptuous blonde working her way through the room like she owned a Paris runway. She pressed her hands on the table, leaning toward him and creating a gaping view of her enhanced cleavage. “I haven’t seen you in forever. You should have called the minute you got back into town.”

She looked familiar, but both under the studio lights and in his bed, long-legged blondes had been interchangeable. He glanced at Gretchen to see if she recognized her, too.

“Kyle’s been in town, Jamie,” Gretchen told the other woman. “He just prefers to ignore us.”

Jamie Feldman, of course. He’d shot a swimsuit campaign with her and some others a couple years ago. She had an amazing bikini body and a sweet-as-honey personality around the male models. He’d also watched her transform into a ruthless bitch with the females and members of the production crew.

“You, maybe.” Jamie dismissed Gretchen and trained her wolfish smile on Kyle. “Do you still have my number? I’m staying at the Ritz tonight and I’m feeling very lonely.” Her lip jutted out in a practiced pout, she reached a bloodred manicured nail toward his chest.

Kyle grasped her fingers before she made contact. First Zola, now Jamie. What was it with everyone wanting to touch his chest tonight? “I’m busy, and you’re interrupting.”

Of all the rotten timing. He’d never get Gretchen to trust his compliments with Jamie coming on to him. He should have taken her straight to his house and sidestepped all the potential interruptions.

Gretchen shifted her wineglass, her gaze avoiding him, but her hand shook as she helped the waiter make room for the appetizer platter.

Jamie glanced from the mushroom plate to Gretchen. “Do you have any idea how many calories, not to mention fat, are in those things? How fortunate for you not to care about your weight.”

He opened his mouth to mention he’d ordered everything, but Gretchen pushed out her chair and stood. For a moment he thought she would chuck the mushrooms at Jamie’s face. Instead, she pressed a wad of bills into their waiter’s hands. “Since you obviously can spare a few more calories than I can, help yourself, Jamie. Have a lovely evening, you two. Good night.”

She didn’t fight for him or try to save him from his new, unwanted date. No, she marched out of the restaurant without looking back.

Jamie advanced on him, and he wasted precious minutes trying to untangle himself from her grasp. He worked his way to the door just as a taxi sped away from the curb, Gretchen silhouetted in the backseat. He stared down the street long after the cab’s taillights had been swallowed by the rest of the city traffic.

His first date in a year had walked out on him before the meal arrived. But his ego wasn’t as bruised as his hopes for starting something with Gretchen. At some point, his generic interest in enjoying an evening out with a sexy, intriguing woman had morphed into a very personal interest in her alone. He sighed and returned inside to settle up with the wait staff.

“Hey, Kyle, can I buy you a drink?” A vaguely familiar woman materialized alongside him. “You know, for old time’s sake.” She winked.

He shifted away, embarrassed he had no recollection of their “old time” together. Jamie was curled around a tall, dark-haired man at the bar. Two more women tucked scraps of paper with their phone numbers into his pocket.

While he waited for the valet to retrieve his car, he pulled the papers out to toss in the nearby trash. Gretchen’s business card fell out too. “Gretchen Meyers, Certified Financial Planner.” He stared at the business address, Web site, social-media contacts, phone numbers, and professional certifications embossed on the front, then flipped it to her personal information scribbled on the other side.

When he’d started modeling as a lonely eighteen-year-old kid, he’d loved when women fought over him. But he hadn’t loved watching Gretchen abandon him. As much as he’d wanted her to put Jamie in her place, he didn’t want to be a fought-over object anymore.

Relationships based on idolizing the physical perfection of the other’s body had gotten old by the time he turned twenty-five. He could spot implants and Botox at fifty paces. If the women didn’t notice his new imperfection right away, they’d find out soon enough. He didn’t want to pretend a little photo touch-up would fix everything. He couldn’t offer perfection. The Army had recognized it first. If he stuck around, the modeling world would, too, but this time he’d chosen to reject them before they could reject him.

He sent flowers to her apartment on Sunday. He had chocolates waiting on her desk when she came into work on Monday. Somehow Gretchen wasn’t surprised to see Kyle sitting in a chair inside her corner office on Tuesday morning.

Aside from her personal hurt feelings and disappointment, their date on Saturday had been a tremendous success. He’d picked a restaurant frequented by people in the business, showing without words how much he wanted his modeling life back. And Jamie, although not the person Gretchen would have chosen, had been the perfect lure to remind him of what he’d been missing, something she, in her plus-size clothing, couldn’t offer.

She’d also had time to analyze the meaning behind the flowers and the chocolates. As much as she’d tried to make a gracious exit, her actions still suggested the other woman’s interruption had upset her. As such, Kyle’s gifts were an attempt to soothe her ego and get on her good side.

Totally unnecessary, of course. Desperation trumped pride in her quest to bring him back to the Zola Modeling Agency. Her mother had been an insufferable bundle of I told you so after Gretchen had returned from their failed date within an hour.

She turned to her secretary. “Hold my calls, and push back my morning appointments.”

“Holy cow, he’s yummy. Where did you find him?” she whispered. “Please tell me he’s your client, and he’s in such bad financial shape he’s going to need to come back here every single day. I’m on a diet, so I’m in desperate need of calorie-free eye candy.”

“Tell me about it. He’s my mother’s client. But until Mother gets an office of her own, I’m letting her use our conference room. Can you call and tell her Kyle Ramsey is here and she has a job to do?”

Gretchen squared her shoulders and headed for her office. “Kyle.” She closed the office door behind her and then faced him. “So glad to see you’ve had a change of heart. The DeAngelo Vurberuchi job looks better the more you think about it, doesn’t it?”

“Vurberuchi has nothing to do with why I’m here.”

The restaurant scene, then, had done its job. She’d have to send Jamie flowers. No, she’d send a box of fattening chocolates instead. “Did you enjoy your evening after I left?”

His gaze narrowed, and he pushed himself out of the chair. “Did you arrange with Jamie to drop by our table?”

“How could I, when I had no idea where we were going for dinner until we were there?” Not to mention, she’d have preferred to sever essential body parts than ask Jamie Feldman for anything. But her irrational possessiveness was her own problem. “The important thing is you had a good time, and you’re ready to make up for everything you’ve been missing over the past year.”

“Those things aren’t important at all.” He advanced on her slowly.

She took a step back and came up against the door she’d closed a moment before.

Kyle flashed a predatory smile. He took her purse and briefcase from her shoulder, setting them aside. Then he rested his forearms on either side of her head and stared into her eyes, his lips a scant inch from hers as he spoke. “I’m here for
you
. Our date deserves another shot.”