MrBigStuff-epub (7 page)

Caroline could have begged off. She could have stayed and continued her visit with her dad instead of nodding agreeably and rising to her feet. She kissed her father’s forehead again and wiped the trace of her lip-gloss away with her thumb. “I’m sorry this visit was so short.”

He waved off her concern. “Go. Sylvie and I have big plans tonight.”

“We live dangerously.” Sylvie reached for one of the last pieces of cheese. “Though some unimaginative people call it cable television.”

She watched Jefferson take off his hat, shake her father’s hand and nod to Sylvie with a grin. Then his warm palm was on her lower back and he was leading her through the house and out the front door with his long-legged stride.

“I’ll put the address into your GPS and you’ll follow me in your car.” There was no pretense of that being a question.

“Yes, sir,” she sassed, saluting. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than stand around for hours watching you flash those dimples for the camera.”

He’d opened the driver’s side door for her and his hand slid down from her back to cup one ass cheek. He had to know how sensitive she was. “I thought you had a vivid imagination, Caroline. You can think of one or two things you’d rather be doing with me. That’s why I knew you’d come.”

Oh, God, could she.

“I know
I
can,” he murmured against her temple before he let her go and leaned into her car to type in the address to the studio. “My imagination’s been working overtime since last night. You’d be proud of me. I made a list of positions and everything.”

She really wished he hadn’t said that. She wasn’t going to be able to think about anything else.

Chapter Five

The hand Jefferson wasn’t holding was curled, her nails digging into her palm as she resisted the urge to show her claws. He hadn’t told her he wasn’t the only one being photographed. Five women scantily clad in strips of denim pretending to be shorts, cowboy boots and little else were wandering around the studio with matching expressions of bruised, doll-eyed, emaciated boredom.

If it were any other day, she would have enjoyed the view. There were women exactly like this at her regular club. There were women like this around every corner in Los Angeles. They never bothered her. Even at forty-five she could give the starving eighteen-year-olds a run for their money. She could get the man and the cheeseburger and satisfy all her appetites with no regrets.

But today they were getting on her nerves. The women looked between her and Jefferson with expressions that did more than border on insulting. If one of them opened a pouty red mouth to ask if she was his mom, she would not be held responsible for what came next.

Jefferson was frowning. She wondered if he sensed it too.

“Terry?” he called to the photographer. “I thought we decided on a new direction for the shoot.”

The short, bald man glanced up from his camera equipment in surprise. “What? Jeff, good, you’re here.” He smiled apologetically as he looked around at the Daisy Duke cheerleading squad and the bales of hay in front of a white screen. “Yes, I remember. I merely thought we’d try out both directions and see which one those people in marketing feel will sell the most pairs of Troublemaker jeans.”

Troublemaker
jeans? Caroline managed to turn her face before rolling her eyes.

“That’s not what they’re called.” Jefferson must have sensed her reaction. “And my name isn’t Jeff. It’s Jefferson. I appreciate your desire to please the folks in advertising, but my contract is clear. I have artistic authority in how my brand, I believe that’s what they call it, is portrayed. And this version of pornographic Hee-Haw is not my brand.”

Caroline snorted. Loudly. It was a rare occurrence and wasn’t incredibly dignified, but she couldn’t help herself.

Terry ran his hand over his smooth head with a sigh. “You’re right, of course. I apologize.”  He tilted his head to study Caroline. “Is this her?”

“Who?” Caroline took a step back and Jefferson’s hand squeezed hers firmly.

“Yes. This is Caroline Aaron.”

“The gossip columnist?” A spark of interest flared in the photographer’s eyes as he looked closer.

“Not anymore.” Caroline had lost her interest in invading stranger’s private lives in La Grange. That story had hit too close to home.

“I had no idea she was so…” He gestured toward her as if that finished his sentence for him.

“Exactly.” Jefferson’s smile was arrogant, despite his dimples. “She’s all we’ll need. Did you get the dress I sent?”

He motioned over his shoulder, still staring at Caroline. “In the makeup room with the paperwork. I’ll send the other models home while you two are getting ready.”

Dread hit her stomach like a ball of icy steel as Jefferson dragged her toward the back of the studio. “He means while you get ready, right?”

“We’re getting ready.”

This was not happening. “I’m not a model. I’m not a reality star. This isn’t like getting pictures at the mall, Jefferson. This is serious.”

“Thank you kindly, ma’am.” His accent thickened sarcastically. “I’ll admit I was a mite confused as to where I was.”

She tugged on her hand but he wouldn’t release her. “I’m not kidding, Jefferson. They won’t appreciate you wasting their money with film they can’t use. It’s irresponsible.”

He strode into the makeup room and smiled at the two blushing women organizing their concealer and eye shadow. “I’m so sorry to barge in on you lovely ladies like this,” he started smoothly, his smile disarming, “but would y’all mind giving us ten minutes of privacy to change? My woman is shy.”

They left with a breathless obedience that Caroline didn’t blame them for. He had charm. She couldn’t deny he had charm. “I am
not
shy.”

And I’m not your woman!

He closed the door with one hand and pushed her against the wall with the other, his palm skimming her breast before his fingers climbed up to curve around the base of her throat. “I know. I’m trying to be that career-minded man on your list and fulfill my obligations, but I’ve got to tell you, all I can think about is getting you in my arms. I thought this way I could do both.”

His thumb caressed the pulse pounding at the base of her throat. “They tell me I’m supposed to pull off ‘hungry’ and ‘passionate’ in this layout. Because hungry sells. I told you I’m no actor, Caroline. But I don’t want to let these good people down. That’s where you come in. I’ve already told them you’ve got modeling experience and that I’ll fly back for free if they aren’t completely satisfied. If that’s irresponsible, then there you have it. That’s what I am. But I know you’re the right fit for this and I need you.” He bent his knees to look up into her eyes. “My sister says you’re always there to help a friend in need. Will you help me, Caroline?”

“Jesus, you’re good,” she breathed.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” His eyes sparkled mischievously but his smile disappeared. “Now unzip your dress.”

Her hands went to the zipper on the side of her sundress instinctively. Maybe she lied too. Maybe she
was
his woman. Her body seemed to think so.

“Passionate cougar shots,” she muttered as her dress slid down to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her white lace thong and heels. “I’m sure they’ll love it and won’t be at all disappointed that you swapped five perky twenty-year-olds for me.”

Jefferson ignored her comment, staring at her breasts while his thumb scraped across her neck again. His skin flushed and his green eyes narrowed. “When this is over I’m going to owe you again. And I know exactly how I’ll thank you.  I’m thinking I might tie you to my bed and show you how hungry I really am for you. I can’t promise I’ll be gentle, because what I’m feeling isn’t gentle. Hell, it’s hardly sane. But I think you like that.”

Her body loved it.

He stepped away from her long enough to rip the black dress off the rack. She was finding it difficult to focus, to catch her breath, so she didn’t resist when he told her to raise her arms and lowered the clinging fabric over her head. It was a backless halter with a plunging neckline and short skirt. Classy but revealing. Sexy.

”You picked this out?”

“Don’t sound that surprised. It’s insulting.”

Caroline was so aroused she wanted to scream in frustration. But more than that she wanted him inside her. “Jefferson, is there a lock on that door?”

He was zipping up her skirt, but he stilled at her words. She knew he was thinking about it. Knew he wanted it. “Lock it,” she urged. “and we don’t have to wait for your bed.”

“Don’t think tempting me will get you out of this shoot.” He stepped back and unbuttoned his shirt with stiff fingers. “Would you take off my boots, Caroline?”

The message was clear. He was the one in charge. He would tease and torment her as he saw fit and she would have to do her best to convince him her idea was better without making a single demand. She knew how the game was played.

She dropped to her knees, the skirt snug around her thighs, and took off his boots. When she was done, she looked up at him and licked her lips. “Jeans too?”

“Yes.” The word was sandpaper rough and thick with desire. She undid his buckle and the buttons of his jeans slowly, enjoying the rock-hard erection pressing insistently against her fingers.

His hand went into her hair and she arched against his touch like a cat, making him growl. “That is the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen. I like you on your knees, Caroline.”

She trembled, feeling vulnerable and raw. “I like it too.”

“I know you do, baby.”

His fingers tightened in her hair for a breathless moment before he released her and moved back toward the clothing rack for the jeans he’d been given to model.

“Troublemakers?”

He frowned at her, stepping out of his own pair and into the snug, dark denim. He grimaced as he adjusted his erection. “Your reaction is exactly why I refuse to let them use that name. Let it go or there might be another spanking in your future.”

Yes
. She got to her feet slowly, straightening her skirt and turning in a slow circle. “What do you think?”

His new jeans were still unbuttoned when he pressed her back against the wall, one large fist gripping her wrists and holding them above her head. “I think I’m wishing I’d locked the door.”

A timid knock sounded on the door and Jefferson swore against her lips. “We’ll finish this conversation soon. No arguing, now. Behave. Once this is done…”

He let the sentence hang unfinished, full of promise and heavy with need. Caroline nodded, a rush of excitement pumping through her veins. He’d planned on her submission. He’d bought her a dress that fit her like a glove and was exactly her style. His behavior was so naturally dominant that it was hard for her to remember that they weren’t in that kind of relationship—yet. Something devilish inside her was begging to be set free. She wanted to push him, to give him a taste of how much control a woman could command from the bottom.

She wanted to play.

If the designers needed him to look hungry and passionate, to make every woman who saw him in a magazine or on a billboard rush out to by Jefferson’s jeans for her man…it would just be rude of her not to help them out.

***

Jefferson had made a strategic mistake. He’d known it from the moment he’d gotten her into that dress, and it had gone downhill from there. He watched as the stylists came in, following his direction to pin her hair up in a tousled, sleepy twist that left sable tendrils curling along the nape of her kissable neck and at her temples.

All he wanted to do was send them away again.

Caroline’s siren smile distracted him. She hadn’t wanted to do this, hadn’t liked the idea at first, but no one would know it from how quickly she’d signed the paperwork and how comfortable she seemed allowing him final approval on her appearance. She was embracing his commands exactly as he’d hoped she would.

I’m thinking she’s out of your league. That woman would eat you for breakfast.

More experienced Romeos than you have crashed and burned.

He’d laughed off John and Trudy’s warnings, but last night they’d repeated in his head as he thought about her. There were few things in life he’d ever wanted as much as he wanted Caroline, and he hadn’t had the best of luck with any of them. But he needed this to happen. Needed to have her. Know her. She brought out something in him he couldn’t explain. He’d surprised himself yesterday, but her response to each new tantalizing torment had only made him more creative. More determined to deny his own release in order to continue exploring this new side of himself and her. He’d had control over her pleasure, if nothing else, and the power had been heady.

In the hours before dawn he’d found himself thinking of all he still wanted to do to and with her, all the things he could do to ensure Caroline wouldn’t have the energy or will to compare him to anyone else or find a list of reasons to leave. He had to keep her off balance. Keep her intrigued.

Keep her.

You can’t keep what you never had.
He’d learned that lesson recently, and the wound was still fresh. Caroline wasn’t his yet. But she would be. 

When the photographer saw Caroline’s finished product he declared Jefferson a genius and spent the next five minutes gushing over his new model’s tattoos. He took a few individual test shots of both of them, then a few of them standing side by side, shaking his head in bemusement the entire time. “The big city temptress with a rebellious streak meets the dangerous cowboy far from home,” Terry effused. “The two of you are so intriguing I can already picture the layout in my head. Love the dress, love that cowboy hat and I love that you’re both barefoot. Jefferson, don’t you dare put on a shirt. The intimacy is what will sell it. You’re a walking romance novel.”

He paused in his praise and called out to his assistant. “Not one piece of straw now. I want a stark background. These two don’t need anything to distract from them. Jesus, when the finale is over come and see me, cowboy. You were created for the camera. Somebody bring me the chair—yes, that leather chair from my office. Get it now.”