you’re ready.” He made some adjustments to the camera.
Jordan took in a deep breath and held her hands out in front of her. “Okay.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this, but I’m going to show you something no one—other than my roommate and maybe the Peeping Tom next door—has ever seen before.”
“That sounds promising,” Ian said, and then asked teasingly, “Will I see it sometime today?”
“Hey...” Jordan teased him back. “What you’re about to see takes some mental preparation. Okay?”
“By all means,” he said with mock seriousness. “Prepare.”
Jordan drew another deep breath and brought her hands together in the prayer position in front of her chest. “I call what you are about to see Joan Jett meets Billy Idol meets Lita Ford. Can you dig it?”
“I’m ready to be impressed.” Ian bantered with her as he raised his camera and prepared to capture her poses.
Ian was like a snake charmer. He had managed to make her feel so completely comfortable that she was willing to make a fool out of herself and strike every “cool” rocker chick pose she had ever come up with in front of the bathroom mirror. Ian took picture after picture, and by the time Jordan struck her last pose, which featured her best Billy Idol snarl, she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. She tilted her head back, crossed her arms in front of her stomach and laughed out loud.
“That’s it!” she said dramatically. “You’ve taken it all out of me. I’ve got nothing left to give.”
Ian realized that he was laughing along with her. The rare sound of his own laughter seemed strange and out of place in the studio. But with Jordan, laughing seemed like the most natural thing to do.
“You brought the magic, Jordan. There’s no doubt about it.” He played along with her as he walked over to the computer. “Why don’t you go get changed while I start to review the images. I definitely want you to take a look at these before you go—I think you’re going to be surprised.”
Jordan rushed to change into her own top so she could hurry back to Ian. She was nervous and excited to see the finished product. Was it possible that he’d managed to get usable shots of her? Rent and painting supplies were hanging in the balance. She checked her reflection in the mirror one last time before she returned. On the short round trip to Ian’s side, a sharp sense of humiliation began to creep into her system. Without knowing why she had felt compelled to do it, she had let her guard down and showed him the silly, private side that only her close friends and family had ever seen. Not only had she shown that side to him, she had actually let him capture it with his camera! As she walked over to him, she wished she could press Rewind and take back the last fifty frames.
“What’s the verdict?” she asked with feigned bravado as she joined Ian at the computer. Nonchalantly, he switched places with her so she was standing to his right before he clicked on one of his favorite shots.
“Some of the images we got at the end are ridiculously good. Just look at this one.” He pointed to a shot of her giving him her Billy Idol snarl. She stared at the pictures on the screen wordlessly, and after a second or two, Ian prodded her impatiently. “Well? What do you think?”
Jordan shook her head slowly, transfixed by the photographs. The woman staring back at her didn’t resemble her at all. That woman looked as if she belonged in front of a camera.
“I can’t believe it,” she finally said. “I actually look...”
“Beautiful? Edgy? Badass?”
“Well...I wouldn’t go that far—”
“I would,” Ian declared.
“But I look good. Really good.”
“You have very complicated angles, but that’s what’s so exciting about your face,” he explained as he clicked on another of his favorite shots. “Look at this. See how the light is reflecting from your cheekbone? You can actually see the structure of your face and appreciate the beauty. Now here...” Ian switched photos. “Look at this one. Your face is in shadow and your beauty is lost.”
“So...what you’re saying is that I have a tricky face to photograph?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying! But with the right lighting, with the right photographer, your face photographs like a dream.” Ian looked down at her with a pleased smile. “You’re a natural.”
Jordan couldn’t believe what she was seeing. One amazing shot after another. She actually looked like a model, and for the first time in her life she enjoyed seeing herself in a photograph. And she felt so good about the results that she brushed aside her humiliation and allowed herself to enjoy the moment.
“I’ve gotta admit I’m blown away,” she said to him. “I haven’t seen a decent picture of myself since I was in elementary school.”
Ian stared down at Jordan and couldn’t remember the last time he had been so intrigued by a woman. It wasn’t just her gorgeous face. It was more than that. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he knew instinctively that he had never met anyone like Jordan Brand before. She was a quirky combination of innocent sensuality and edgy attitude. She lacked the purely superficial obsession that most models in his acquaintance possessed. But then, she wasn’t a model, was she? She was something entirely new. Something entirely different. And she was the woman he needed to create the final book that he envisioned. Now all he had to do was get her under contract.
“Let’s go up front and talk about the project,” Ian said.
Jordan followed him to the front of the studio; he gestured to one side of the couch. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Now that her adrenaline was starting to drop back to normal levels, she was reminded about the excesses the night before. Her stomach was upset and her head was pounding.
“Water’d be good,” Jordan said, and then as an afterthought, “Do you have an aspirin or something in the same general analgesic family?”
“Still feeling lousy from last night?”
She nodded as she perched on the edge of the couch. “Note to self. Beware of the pink-champagne fountain. Of course, I admit that I’m a bit of a lightweight. I’m usually the designated driver.”
Ian returned with a highball glass filled with fizzing water. “What were you celebrating?” He held out the glass to her. “Here. Drink this.”
“Bachelorette party.” Jordan took the glass. She wrinkled her nose and smelled the liquid. “What is it?”
“Drink it quick. Before the fizzing stops,” he instructed.
She made a face. “What is it?”
“Brioschi.”
“What?”
“Brioschi. It’s an antacid. My mom swore by it. If I had an upset stomach when I was a kid, that’s what I got.”
When Jordan still hesitated, Ian repeated, “It’s an antacid,
