See Me (4 page)

“Is it mostly women who order that sort of thing?”

Her soft laugh was a soothing massage over his muscles. “Some, but not all. You won’t know who you’re performing for. That information is kept confidential. But, rest assured, when you see your paycheck, you won’t care if you’re acting for the president or a waitress.” She leaned her hip against a tall file cabinet. The gesture emphasized the dip in her waist. “Can I ask you a question?”

He fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest. “Yes.”

“What’s an ex-con doing with a business degree?”

She was to the point. He admired that. The others skated around it like it was cancer, asking about it like it was an apology for the test results. “I got my degree while I was incarcerated. The prison had an outreach program, and I qualified. I had a high school diploma when I went in.”

“And what were you in for?”

He noticed she didn’t step back, didn’t make that slight shuffle of her feet to politely get away from him. She kept her eyes focused on his face. No nonsense. “Fighting. I was involved in illegal fighting and got caught.”
Half-truth.

She stuffed her hands in the front pockets of her jeans. The movement pressed her ample breasts together. Were her nipples small and pink or fat and dusky? God, he wanted to find out. It was his turn to shift his stance. Shit, she was sexy and didn’t even know it.

“I didn’t know fighting was illegal.”

“Yeah, the kind of fighting I did is, and I did it for money.”
Truth.

“Thank you for your honesty.”

Now he felt like shit.
A few months; I can handle anything for a few months. Fuck, I fought my way through hell for five years. I can do two months of this.

“So do you shoot all the scenes here?” He tried to steady his voice as he followed Abigail Swanson, unlikely pornography queen, out of her office.

ABIGAIL FELT LIKE her big ass had one of those truck horns attached to it. The moment she decided to step backward, the familiar
beep…beep…beep
would sound off. Why couldn’t he walk beside her down the hallway? She looked over her shoulder. Yep, Sean Drennan was still there. All tight white dress shirt and perfectly bulging slacks quietly followed behind her sashaying ass.

His beautifully full lips tilted at one corner. Damn if he wasn’t the most luscious thing she’d ever laid eyes on. She’d interviewed quite a few great-looking guys, but none revved her engine like Mr. Drennan. She’d noticed the black ink Ron had been talking about. He’d worn a long-sleeve dress shirt rolled up at the cuffs, just enough to reveal the tips of the dark marks on his forearm. She couldn’t wait to see the rest of the tattoo.

She wasn’t surprised to find that he’d been in jail. He had that look about him. Hardened, jaded, but so handsome—so damn sexy. His tight jaw looked like he’d just shaved. And his dark hair was cropped close to his head. If he hadn’t been in jail, she would’ve sworn he’d just stripped out of fatigues.

Crap, she felt like she had two hot pokers sticking in her butt cheeks.
Please don’t jiggle. Please don’t jiggle
. If she’d learned anything in this business, there were guys out there who went for curvy girls. Even some of the guys built like Sean admired a fuller figurer. Yep, desire came in all sizes and shapes. Sean would have to be filed away in her brain under the naughty fantasy tab.

She glanced back again. The chocolate brown irises behind her lifted.
He was checking out my butt!
The thought made her brain almost forget that the slight flirtation couldn’t go any further. Not only because he was a potential employee… The other reason made her stomach sink and her hands shake. What if Justin found her again? The thought was unbearable.

“Um, if you go through there, Ron will take you through the warehouse and explain the process of how we film and get a scene ready. We have several sets and even do a lot of work outside the studio. Carl, he’s one of our cameramen, is a retired marine, and we use his cabin for some of the shoots. Janice, she does costumes, we use her apartment, and Ron’s boyfriend has a gorgeous house with a bathroom the size of Atlanta. A lot of people request bathroom scenes.”

She was impressed. He wasn’t rattled when she’d mentioned Ron’s boyfriend. Had Ron already told Sean he was gay?

“Okay.”

Abigail stepped closer. The scent of something woodsy and spicy wafted over her, making her knees weaken. “I thought you’d be taller.”

He blessed her with a wicked smile. “Yeah? Am I too short for the job?”

She rose up on her tiptoes. He was still taller than her. But then again, everybody was. “Not at all. I guess those fighters on that TV show aren’t very tall either.”

The smile on his face melted. Had she said something wrong?

“By
those fighters
I assume you mean the mixed martial arts fighters?”

Her tiptoes deflated. “Um, yeah, I guessed that’s what you meant by illegal fighting. Wasn’t that type of fighting illegal at one time? My brother’s obsessed with those pay-per-views. I think he said it was banned in some countries or something.”

“Some forms of it still are.” His stern tone made her feel off balance; everything about the guy was sending her senses into overdrive. She was surprised she didn’t fall right over. She stepped back.

“Is…is that the type of fighting you did?” Justin’s fighting was illegal too. No one but her knew about it, but he fought with her constantly. He’d pick fights about the new drapes she’d ordered or what she’d made for dinner, any excuse to lay a hand on her.

Sean folded his thick arms over his even thicker chest. “Yes.”

Illegal fighting, drop subject. Bury it, under a rock, under a pyramid.
Got it
. She spun around. “Ron’s right through there.”

Ron stepped through the open door. “Hey, man, you ready to see how this circus works?”

Her belly did a funny flip-flop when Sean stopped at the doorway and looked back at her. “I think so.”

She watched Sean follow Ron into the main studio, telling herself it wasn’t because his ass looked tight and high in those black slacks. And he did fit the profile perfectly. The order specifically stated, “Guy like in Marky Mark underwear ad only with big tattoo all over arm.” Sean fit that bill and more. His handsome face was blessed with a dangerously sexy smile. Not that he’d let her see it all that much. It was a plus that he didn’t act like an ass. Usually, men who looked like he did were conceited jerks. Anyway, he’d get a physical and lab work done. Then after all the formalities, she could hire the sexy fighter.

The final test would be the real deciding factor.
Please, dear God, be able to pass the final test. I can’t wait to see him try
. Abigail went to grab a cup of coffee and wait impatiently in the blue room.

SEAN SAT ON the loveseat across from Abigail and Ron. Every instinct he had told him to run. The way the two of them were eyeballing him made him want to jump out of his skin. “It seems like you run a pretty tight ship here.”

Abigail took a sip from the oversize mug in her hand. “We try.” She readjusted for the third time in the chair while Ron sat as still as a statue.

He wasn’t sure what the last part of the interview was going to consist of, but he was pretty sure she needed to see what was under the hood before she decided to buy the car. By the look of the cozy room, they meant for him to get comfortable—real fast.

Abigail looked over at Ron, and then focused those pretty blues on him. “Mr. Drennan, in this line of work you’ll be asked to…perform in front of others. There are usually three extras on any given set. They are the cameraman, director, and helper. Then, of course, the performers will be there. It may be one other person, it may be three or four, or it could even be a solo. But one thing that stays the same is that you have to be comfortable with your body and touching it.”

Ah, he knew where this was going. He looked over at Ron, who had a steady stare focused on the picture on the wall above his head. Abigail’s voice pulled him back. “With that being the case, it’s imperative I know you’re able to… Well, that you can—”

“We need you to jack off for us,” Ron blatantly added.

Abigail dug an elbow into Ron’s side. The dude didn’t even flinch. “I was getting to that!”

“I know, but it was taking you forever. The man doesn’t want to be here all night.”

Yes, I do
. “Hey.” He felt like the referee in a fight. “It’s cool. I can do that for you guys.”
I want to do it. Okay, so I think I found a fetish. No more blank lines on that one
. “Should I take my clothes off? How do we do this?”

They spoke at the same time. “Clothes off, please,” slipped out from Abigail’s lips, while Ron said, “Leave ’em on.”

Abigail was going to be his boss, so he figured he’d better do what she wanted.
Right, dickhead, you want to impress her
. He knew his body was tight. He really did like working out. It wasn’t a vain issue. He’d started out as a scrawny kid, fighting to fend off his foster brothers. By the time he was a junior in high school, he wasn’t the jock type. But damn, he could stir up a fist session just to release some steam. He was good. Too good. By the time he was a senior, he’d gained the strength to match the asshole football players punch for punch. Those fat asses didn’t have the cardio for shit.

He ran too. Ran from everything he couldn’t run from before. His cardio was spot-on, and the wrestling shit he’d gotten into at the Y’s afterschool program helped. He lifted wherever there were weights. No more pansy ass, and no more “trusted caregivers” smacking him around either. He’d silenced it out until he got the diploma. Then he ran again.

Sean stood up. Ron’s dark expression followed him, but Abigail’s bright eyes shifted to the mug in her hand.

Look at me. See me, not the scar on my jaw, not the tat. Just me.

She peeked up, then looked back down. Damn, she was cute as hell. He wanted to smile but was afraid it would embarrass her. How did she get through the other interviews? Was she this backward with all the men?

He loosened his tie and slipped it over his head. Next, the buttons on the shirt were opened. Ron kept his eyes glued on him, shifting only to lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees. God, was he really going to do this? Could he jack off in front of another dude? He thought about the bill sitting on his kitchen counter, the empty fridge in his tiny apartment. He didn’t have a choice.

There was no sound other than Abigail’s gasp when his shirt landed on the glass coffee table. He looked up at her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled and recrossed her legs.

He’d never wanted to flex his muscles so much in all his life. He would do it before a fight. The other guy did too. Like two lions in a Roman stadium, both puffing out their chests and showing their sharp teeth. With Ron watching, he could pretend to gear up for a fight, but with the angel watching? No way. He wanted to show her what he had, plain and simple, and prayed to God it would be enough.

“Um, the tattoo, Ron said it goes all the way up your arm?” she asked.

Sean looked up and down his right arm, rubbing his right pec to show her that it wouldn’t rub off. “Yeah, is that a problem?”

She shifted again. “Oh no, not at all, it’s fine. We have a lot of clients who specifically ask for tattoos. Matter of fact, right now we have a client who is requesting a male performer that has a tattoo like yours.”

The clank of her coffee mug on the table brought his attention back to the task at hand. That’s right. He was there to get a job, not impress her for a date. Wasn’t he? Yes, he was there to make some cash and get the fuck out of Dodge, minus his pride and soul, of course.

“Want me to keep going?” Sean asked, this time more toward Ron than Abigail.

Ron gave a sharp nod.

He unbuckled the slender belt and unbuttoned his slacks. He figured he didn’t need to take everything off. If she couldn’t figure out what he had to offer by seeing his abs and package, then she was more naïve than he thought.

The soft flutter of his pants gathering around his ankles made her look up. “Can you take your shoes off, please?”

Well, shit!

He leaned over and unlaced his shoes to toe them off. Socks came off too. He stepped out of the pile of pants. “Good?”

She shifted again in the chair. “Um…yes. Now those, please.”

He tipped his slender finger toward his black boxer briefs. Her chin dipped, causing the soft reddish-brown waves to hide the expression on her face. Ron tapped her knee, and her head shot up.

Fuck
! Her round cheeks were bright red. Two roses revealing how heated she really was. Was this turning her on as much as it was him? He couldn’t help it; his gaze roamed over the soft swell of her breasts, more than a handful.
Way more than a fucking handful
. The soft cotton of his underwear was suddenly too tight, forcing him to shift his stance. God, when had his dick gotten so damn hard?

Chapter Three

Abigail didn’t know whether to bite her tongue or choke on it. The only thing standing between her eyes and the pearly gates was a swatch of black cotton. By the smirk on his lips, the sly Mr. Drennan knew full well what was going through her mind. She was horny. Not the usual horny she got watching the male performers masturbate, but a heightened sense of not only his body but her own.

She shifted again in the chair. The heat in the room was stifling. Had Ron turned off the air-conditioning? Suddenly, the room was closing in, and she had nowhere to go. If she covered her eyes, Ron would only pull on her wrists. If she tried to run, she’d look like a lunatic, and Sean would turn down the contract.

“Can I sit down?” he asked.

She hadn’t realized how hard she’d been clenching her teeth until she heard the raspy sound of Sean’s voice. All she could do was nod. The slick skin covering his abdominal muscles barely wrinkled as he sat down. His body was so tight all over. Bulky shoulders melted into bunched biceps. She was used to her models having nice bodies, but this man was a machine.
A fighter’s body.