they were old friends, and headed for the door. With a wave of her hand she indicated that the rest of the crew should follow, before diving headfirst into a speech on how lucky Faith was.
Faith tried to summon up the small amount of enthusiasm she’d felt on the plane, but Kitty barely gave her a chance to think, much less absorb it all. Plus, the woman wouldn’t take a breather so Faith could call her parents and let them know she’d arrived. It was unlikely that anything catastrophic had happened since that morning, but she would have felt better checking in. However, as Kitty kept up the chatter out to the limo and on the ride to the city, Faith gave up hope of calling until they reached their destination. She couldn’t help wondering if Kitty’s constant chatter was her punishment for going on this trip.
Irvin flipped through the pages of the latest Men’s Health magazine as he lounged on a sofa in the Manhattan studio of photographer Rafael Sims. Kitty was late, which was very unusual for her, but he wasn’t in a rush. The photo shoot with him and the winner should take about an hour, and his only afternoon plans were to not check his emails every six minutes. He wasn’t doing too well with that. Rafael had helped distract him for a few minutes with idle conversation until the photographer had got a call. Irvin glanced at his watch; five minutes had passed since he’d last looked. Which meant he might as well check his phone again.
He put down the magazine and picked up his mobile. As expected, there were no emails from Kevin Lipinski. He would have been better served leaving his mobile at home. He tossed it back onto the glass table in front of him and picked up the magazine.
“Is there anything I can get you while you wait?” Rafael’s young assistant came over and asked. Her smile indicated she offered a lot more than water or juice. She’d checked on him every five minutes since he’d arrived. He knew, because it was how often he’d checked his mobile.
He gave her a smile but shook his head. “No, thank you, Tina. I’m fine.”
“I don’t mean to be a bother. I just know that I hate waiting. Sometimes it helps to have a distraction,” she said, emphasizing the last word.
Inwardly he groaned. If he wasn’t the Irvin Freeman and was just a plain bloke walking down the street, would she even give him a passing glance? He doubted it. When he was growing up, his looks were considered average at best. Amazing how swagger, money and fame had taken him from regular guy to sex symbol.
He held up the magazine. “I have a distraction,” he said, not letting the smile drop from his face. He might get annoyed with the groupies, but he was never rude. Full mouths couldn’t complain, after all.
“Oh, well, if you need anything, just call me.”
She turned to walk away, and he did watch her stride across the room. She was beautiful—he’d give her that. Nice bum, small waist and tan skin. When he’d first started in the business, he would have accepted her offer. Back when being desired by a multitude of women was new, not annoying.
Tina glanced at him over her shoulder and caught him watching. The light in her eye nearly made him cringe for real. Now he’d have to convince her that he might have looked, but he had no intention of touching.
The moment was interrupted when Kitty and the rest of the group burst into the room with a wave of conversation and laughter. Though he’d known they were coming, the arrival of Kitty and the entourage came with the anxious feeling he had back when he’d started out in some small off-Broadway play. Every move he made while they were around would be watched, scrutinized and reported on some social-media site if deemed interesting enough to boost his celebrity status.
He scanned the group for the winner. Kitty had texted him that she still didn’t seem very excited, so he expected to find the cool smile and reserved expression from her employee photo. His scan came to an immediate halt when it landed on the smiling cutie talking to one of the cameramen.
In his mind he let out an appreciative whistle. This was not the reserved woman from the picture, not with that smile. It was what he noticed first. She had the brightest, most beautiful smile he’d ever seen on a woman. Then there were her legs: long, shapely and enticing in the short denim shorts. The lavender shirt showed off toned arms and looked good against the red undertones in her skin. Her dark, thick hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
Coming from the UK, he’d never understood the girl-next-door thing that American men went for, at least not until this moment. This woman made him think of barbecues, bike riding and picnics. All that down-home stuff Hollywood portrayed in their good ole American films.
He slowly stood and grinned. The weekend wasn’t going to be as bad as he had originally thought. He’d still stick with the “look but don’t touch” approach, but at least this woman was nice to look at.
She stopped talking and turned his way. The smile on her face froze, then became stiff around the edges. She took a deep breath and just watched him for what felt like hours, but was probably just a few seconds. He waited for the excitement, frantic fanning, shriek of joy and tears. He was usually good for a tear or two.
They never came. Instead, she calmly walked over and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Irvin.”
That accent... Hers was a slow, husky drawl that wrapped around him and made him want to hear it whisper his name. He normally didn’t care much for Southern accents, but he could listen to hers all night.
He took her hand in his. “The pleasure is all mine.”
She swallowed and gave a short nod before pulling her hand back. She rubbed it across her shorts then stuck both hands in her back pockets. “I appreciate you saying that. I’m sure this is kind of an imposition on you.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if it were. I’m always excited to find new ways to raise money for alcohol awareness.”
She nodded, but the look on her face said she didn’t quite believe him. “I guess it’s time for my total transformation.”
At that moment, Rafael came out of his office. To see him on the street, no one would guess that Rafael was a famous photographer. His curly hair, thick square glasses and unassuming white shirt and gray khakis didn’t set him apart from any other guy in his midthirties.
“Is this our winner?” Rafael asked in a loud, excited voice. He took both of Faith’s hands in his and held them out. “We don’t have much work to do with you. Look at those legs and that smile. You’ve got the cutest face, my dear.”
From the way she glanced around, Irvin wondered if she was uncomfortable with the praise.
“That’s very sweet coming from a man who photographs women far more glamorous than me.”
“Glamour is a mirage. A mirage that I create,” Rafael said, placing one of his hands on his chest. “The lens can make the meanest person look like a saint when it’s in the right hands, and my dear, I’ve got the right hands.”
Faith smiled, and Irvin was blown away by how cute she was. “The right hands and a way with words.”
Rafael laughed, then snapped his fingers for Tina to come over. “If you think I’m good with words, wait until you see these pictures. Now on to hair and makeup.”
“Not
