PosterBoyForAverage (14 page)

Aubrey chuckled. “First shot. All of you stand by that tree
and mug for my cell phone. Let’s make my sister jealous, shall we?”

Day two was a bit smoother. She’d gotten her hot-guy legs under
her with the first group of men. They’d all been good. Nice, funny, not hard to
look at as her mother said, but Cyrus stood out. He would be one of the
calendar stars—Aubrey had no doubt. His stern good looks had stood out nicely
against the breathtaking Key West backdrop.

The shot she absolutely knew Gail would end up choosing was
the one where Cyrus crouched on the deserted beach, sand like raw sugar beneath
his feet, the florid Key West sunset in the background. Some of that sand had
clung to his bronzed muscles and he’d given her a killer half-smile that
triggered—even for her, a girl hung up on a guy miles and miles away—very dirty
thoughts.

Her phone rang just as she sat up. It was Gail. “Good
morning. Look at me, not oversleeping. Sober as a judge even.”

Gail laughed. “Yeah?”

“You bet. I’m up. Getting ready to go down in a while and
meet May through August. I hope they’re as wonderful as yesterday’s men. Every
one of those guys were stone-cold naturals. The setting isn’t hurting either.”

She laughed and despite the terrible brew she’d already
encountered from its depths, she considered a packet of the horrible coffee
made in the miniscule single-cup coffeepot. She set about making it, knowing
she’d regret it but craving caffeine.

“I got the pictures you e-mailed last night,” Gail said.

Aubrey could hear the satisfaction in her voice. She
grinned, shouldered the phone and took the plastic wrap off her coffee mug.
“And?”

“They’re wonderful! We knew they would be. But my goodness.
The one…”

“Let me guess. Soulful dark eyes, stubble, dusting of sand.
Mr. March.”

Gail made a desperate little sound that made Aubrey laugh
outright. “Yes! Lordy-Lord. He is fun to look at. Almost but not quite as good
as our Mr. December.”

The mention of Mike made her stomach drop. The craving for
coffee dissipated some. “Yeah. Well, we haven’t even seen today’s bunch. The owner
chose all these men when she was down here on vacation?”

Good to change the subject. No talking about Mike. But the
damage was done. Aubrey felt the sinking sadness in the pit of her stomach.
Felt the rise of heat to her cheeks when her mind automatically relived one or
two or five of their steamier moments.

“Yep. And she gave them all her card, got their numbers and
told them she’d be in touch if she could pull this idea together. Most of them
are locals or live close enough that we could afford to get you all there.”

“It’s a fairy tale,” Aubrey laughed. “Look, glad you like
Cyrus. Cyrus was a doll.”

“Did you happen to get some time alone with Cyr—”

“No!” Aubrey said a bit too forcefully. She covered with a
soft laugh. “No playtime for me. Just work. I have to run or I’ll be late for
today’s offering of tan, buff, studly calendar boys. I’ll send you my choices
of today’s pics later tonight. I might even grab myself a bottle of wine
again.”

“Just don’t drink the whole thing,” Gail teased.

“Don’t worry. That was a one-time faux pas. I’ll be in
touch, Gail.” Then she hung up and tried to get dressed without thinking about
Mike Sykes. She dressed quickly, sipped her atrocious coffee and packed her
camera bag.

“No wallowing,” she told herself in the bathroom mirror.
“Onward and upward, Aubrey. You have to go make pretty men prettier on a
breathtaking Florida beach. You have it rough.” She shook her head at herself.
“Oh and by the way…you’re nuts.”

But she already knew that, didn’t she? Aubrey grabbed her
bags and was out the door.

Same lobby, different day. She caught the concierge raise an
eyebrow from behind her small desk. The woman even sat forward, planted her
chin on her folded hands and watched Aubrey scan the lobby patrons. She was
watching to see which men were Aubrey’s for the day. For some reason this
cracked Aubrey up.

She found her list for the day and read off the names “Matt
Getty, Peter Meyer, Cruz Reyes and Derek Caper. Where are my men?”

Each one stood when she read their names out. Each one was
more gorgeous than the next.

“Getty, you’re my Mr. May. You can stay where you are.”

He was a blond boy with gray eyes and broad shoulders. His
sherbet-colored shirt showed off the tan of his skin and the white highlights
in his surfer-boy haircut. She smiled at him and that was all the encouragement
he needed to grin at her.

“Peter, you’re my Mr. June. You can stand next to May.”

Peter was her only ginger. His hair was that dark-russet
color that only true redheads could achieve. She’d never seen a dye job that
could mimic that color. Even from where she stood, Aubrey could see the blond
highlights in his hair. It would look stunning under the blazing Key West sun.
His eyes were true green and he sported a close-clipped beard. She wasn’t much
for facial hair, but on Mr. June it worked.

He shook hands with Getty and tossed her a good-natured
salute. His biceps flexed nicely when he did it and she caught the edge of a
tattoo. Something Celtic.
Very nice
, Aubrey thought.

Cruz Reyes had lush brown hair, caramel skin, eyes so dark
they were nearly black and when he grinned, a single dimple. “Oh Cruz, that
dimple is going to make you very beloved among our readers,” she laughed. She
pointed her pen to the line and said, “Get over there with your comrades, Mr.
July.”

He did as ordered, shaking hands with the other two. Aubrey
realized she was craving actual good coffee. She promised herself once she
herded today’s group of studs into her almost-soccer-mom van she’d get some.

“Which leaves us with Derek. Derek, come on down. You’re the
next man in our studly calendar.”

They all laughed at her joke and she felt for the first time
since leaving home that maybe she could block out the pain from her stung
emotions and kicked-around heart. Maybe she was putting too much weight on the
attraction and feeling she was experiencing for a man she just met.

She studied Derek and thought maybe she just needed a fling.

He was very much her type. Tall, at least six-foot-six,
leanly muscled but oh yes, muscles. He had a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm
and she could make out everything from a mermaid to an angel. His eyes were
tropical-water blue, his sand-colored hair hitting at jaw length. And his jaw
was perfect. A mole by the left edge of his lower lip completed the heart-stopping
image.

“You’re my Mr. August. Now flex for me,” she joked.

He surprised her by blushing a hot red but doing it anyway.
When he flexed she could see he was more heavily muscled than she’d thought.

“My, it’s hot in here,” Aubrey said, laughing.

“Yes. Yes, it is.” The concierge giggled and gave Aubrey a
grin when she turned around. “Thanks for making my morning.” Then her phone lit
up and she answered in a completely calm and professional manner despite the
high color in her cheeks.

“Now, children, mama needs caffeine. We’re all going to go
to my horribly ugly van and someone is going to tell me how to get here.” She
thrust the location paper out and someone took it. She wasn’t sure who because
she was already walking. “But first tell me how to get to the nearest coffee
joint. Java’s on me.”

“Can I get a green tea?” Derek asked, stone-cold serious.

“Oh honey,” she patted his substantial arm. “You can have
whatever you want, pretty.”

* * * * *

As the day’s shoot ended, she put them all together, grouped
them close in front of an old sun-bleached piece of driftwood.

“Have at it,” she said. “This is just for fun, so do
whatever. We’re nearly done and I think it’s just barely lunchtime.”

Derek looked at his watch. “Just.”

“Once I get a few candids,” Aubrey said, circling them
slowly, “I’ll take you all back to the hotel and set you free. The day is
yours.”

Something swept across Derek’s gaze but through her camera
lens she only registered it as a change of expression.

This idea of hers she’d yet to explain to Gail, but she
figured she would tonight. She only had two more days of shooting and she
thought her idea was pretty nifty.

When it was time to go, she loaded her crew into the van and
headed back to home base. “You know I have to admit, I’ll miss working with you
all. You were a fun bunch.”

“It’s because you have a redhead,” said Peter.

They all laughed. Derek was conspicuously quiet.

At the hotel, she gave them all a hug. Told them she’d let
the office know how it went and then said, “Check’s in the mail, guys. And I
personally promise that’s the truth.” She laughed. “You guys did great.”

Derek lingered back when the others ran off. Aubrey was
digging for her room key when she realized he was still standing there. “What’s
up, Derek?”

“I was wondering…” He shuffled his feet and she saw the
long, lean muscles in his thigh bunch above his knee. Her eyes skimmed the
tattoo sleeve again. She made out a playing card and what looked like an old
tree up near his shoulder. Every time she looked at it, she found something new.
It was like one of those hidden-picture books. “If you’d…”

Aubrey’s stomach grumbled as she waited. She realized coffee
was the only breakfast she’d managed. But then she saw the tell of a man about
to ask a woman out and her stomach went from hungry to plummeting.

“Derek, I—”

“If you’d go out with me!” he finished in a rush. “I know
you’re only here another day or two but I’d really like it if I could take you
out.”

“I can’t,” she sighed. “I’m just getting…” She scratched her
head. How best to describe this thing with Mike? In her back pocket, her phone
vibrated. Aubrey ignored it. “Extricated from something sticky,” she finished.
“Complicated.”

He grinned at her, showing off that perfect jaw. “That
doesn’t mean you can’t go out for a drink.”

“Plus you’re a young pup,” she teased. “I’d feel like a
dirty old woman.”

“I’m twenty-four. You?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Oh the horror.” He’d taken a step closer and when he
reached out—she thought to touch her—her skin tingled. Instead he handed her a
piece of folded-up paper. “My number. If you change your mind. I already have
yours.”

He leaned in fast, before she could backpedal or react and
kissed her cheek. “Think about it.”

Then he was gone and her damn phone was buzzing yet again.

Aubrey exhaled, grabbed her bag and headed for her room. She
wanted a hot shower, some food and maybe a long walk on the cool sand of the
beach when the sun set. She had all day to make that happen.

She took the steps to get some exercise. You’d think running
about on the beach in the sun would be more strenuous, but the men had been so
good in front of the camera that lobbing them verbal cues was usually enough to
get the shot she wanted. All the way up the steps, she fingered the edge of the
paper that had Derek’s cell number on it. She felt a bizarre mixture of
excitement and guilt.

“You owe Michael Sykes nothing at all. If you go out with
this guy it’s all right. You don’t need to feel guilty.”

A man coming down the steps gave her a nervous look, as if
she’d pull out a ballpoint pen and shiv him in the stairwell. She let out a
little nervous burble of laughter that probably didn’t help him relax any.

Just because you talk to yourself in an empty stairwell
people think you’re cray-cray…

Another burble of laughter and she was pushing through the
door to her floor and making her way down the hallway with the crazy jungle
carpeting. She just needed a hot shower and to think. That was all. Any moment
now it would all seem so clear.

She dropped her bag, booted up her laptop, hooked her camera
to it and let the pictures begin to download. Only once they were on her
computer and a flash drive would she feel like the day’s work was done and
successful. While she waited, she found a bottle of water in her luggage and
flicked the TV on.

Aubrey stripped out of her sandy clothes in the bathroom but
put her travel robe on until she could shower. Her travel robe had seen better
days. Bradlee called it her gypsy robe. It was shin-length, soft, stained in
places, but it was impossible to tell due to the fact that the robe was made of
bits and scraps of a bunch of colorful fabrics. She’d bought it at a craft fair
when she was twenty and it had traveled with her to more locations than she
could count.

She smoothed her fingers down the wild colors and patterns
and smiled. When the room phone rang, she jumped. Water cascaded down the front
of her. Aubrey growled, shook her head. “At least it won’t stain.”

She hurried to the phone because clearly it had to be an
emergency. She hadn’t given the number to anyone. Must be the management.

“Hello?”

“Mike is pining for you.”

“What? Bradlee…what?” she stammered.

“You heard me. While you’re out there taking seminude photos
of buff beach-bunny dudes, he’s pining.”

“How did you get this number?”

“Good lord,” Bradlee said. “It’s not rocket science, dear.
You texted me your info and when you didn’t answer your phone I called the
hotel, gave your name, said who I was and asked to be connected.”

“Oh.”

“My goodness. Look who’s entirely dependent on their cell
phone and technology,” Bradlee laughed.

“Why do you say he’s pining, sister dear?” Aubrey asked,
finalizing the download and pulling the connector cord from the computer.
All
downloaded and safe.

“Because I stopped by the house to get Bruce’s bag of bones.
We were out and money’s tight because Timothy’s check—”

“It’s fine. My God. You’re doing me the favor,” Aubrey said.

“Anyhoo, your well-muscled, kind-mannered neighbor was
mowing your lawn and had been in your garden pruning and cleaning. Shirtless,
no less. We’re having a weird warm week of Indian summer.”