painting?” Nikki’s penciled brows made twin Arcs de Triomphe. “Is that a career?”
“Not for many. But I’m getting there. I’ve painted for parties, for galleries, and the past year I’ve gotten several advertising jobs that have drawn attention in the media and in the trade.”
“Like what? Oh, wait a mo.” Nikki dug through a denim shoulder pack until she withdrew a micro-recorder. She fiddled around, rewinding the tape and testing one-two-three before she was satisfied. She held it out and clicked a button. “What advertising work have you done?”
Mia opened her mouth, but Nikki made a quick dive at the recorder. “I’m talking to Mia Kerrigan, body painter.” She held it out again. “Go.”
“There were a few small print ads, but my most well-known work so far was for the Living Color cosmetics campaign.”
“I know that one!” Nikki squealed. “Finally my clandestine subscription to Elle pays off. You’re talking about the ads where the models were painted in makeup colors…?”
“Yes, to reflect the product names. For the River of Color line, I painted several models like a rushing river and we photographed them lying head to toe among rocks and rushes.”
“The peach!” Nikki spoke into the recorder. “Tell about the peach.”
Mia grinned. “The peach caused a minor sensation. That was for their Peachy Keen blush and lipstick. A few magazines banned the ads and the company was delighted. The brouhaha over censorship gained them tons of free publicity.”
“All because the peach was really an ass, right?”
“Well, yes.” She’d painted Angelika’s derriere so skillfully it had looked absolutely authentic when photographed close up with extraneous body parts cropped out. The resulting ad had been beautiful and luscious, but fairly unremarkable. The kicker had been when the reader turned the page to a similar photo of Angelika’s outthrust bottom with a male model poised to take a bite, one hand squeezing the sensuous curves of the “peach.”
Mia brought Nikki over to one of the window seats that overlooked the street and told her about doing the Living Color ads and how that had led to a certain notoriety. She spoke about the art pieces she painted and photographed on her own time, for her own pleasure, but also how she was building a body-painting portfolio. Her ultimate goal was to win the gold medal at the upcoming International Expo and have a gallery show.
Nikki proved to be less scatterbrained than she first appeared. She paid attention to the details and asked smart questions. The only area that Mia glossed over was her family background. Her parents had requested anonymity long ago, but it still hurt a bit to be reminded that they were ashamed of her ventures.
After a while, the butler came back and looked inside. “Still here? I suppose you’ll be wanting refreshments.”
“Oh, no, that’s not necessary, thanks.” The butler flustered Mia. He was too posh for her blood, even when he was practically off duty. While her parents’ wealth was fairly impressive, it was never ostentatious. She came from good Puritan stock, where parsimony and modesty had ruled for generations.
Nikki, however, had no problem giving the butler orders. “Actually, I’m parched. Fetch me a Perrier and lime, will you, luv?”
“I should be getting back to work,” Mia said.
Nikki checked the recorder. “You haven’t explained about the Hard Candy connection yet.”
“I recently completed a body-painting assignment for the magazine’s cover.” She described the edible woman theme and how she’d achieved the look. “Julian was there, and that’s when he mentioned a ‘fashion’ layout, with the models wearing only my paint. It’s odd that he didn’t tell you.”
“Not that odd. He didn’t come right out and say so, but I know my brother. He doesn’t want me to work at Hard Candy.”
“Why not? Is he like W.C. Fields?”
“Huh?”
“Thinking you’re too good to work for your own—Oh, never mind.”
“It’s simple, really, but devious of him. He said you’d be featured in a fashion layout, but not what kind. Obviously because he didn’t want me getting in at Hard Candy. The magazine is pure sex. Even the offices are pretty well testosterone saturated, and my brother is so overprotective,” explained Nikki. “Or he tries to be. I usually don’t let him, except when he gets this weary expression and I start to feel sorry for him, because he does have to deal with the three of us and even I can imagine what a headache that is.”
“Three sisters,” Mia said, remembering the bachelor bio.
“There’s me, Very and Lis. Since our dad died, Julian feels responsible for us. He’s really very patient and loving. We all know we can count on him, no matter what kind of trouble we’re in.”
Mia’s respect for Julian increased. She didn’t need actual feelings complicating the matter, but there they were.
Nikki made a choking sound. “Ick, how sappy! I’m forgetting that Jules tried to mislead us about the article. But I’ll show him.” She clicked off the recorder. “I believe you’d make a fabulous feature article, Mia. My brother might interfere, but somehow, someway, I’m going to get us both into Hard Candy.”
She shoved the recorder into her pack and stood, throwing out her chin. “Julian can go suck a lemon drop.”
The image made Mia smile, especially since she already knew what Julian tasted like when flavored with candy.
She rose, shaking her head. “I’m not so sure that’s smart, Nikki.”
“You said you could use the publicity.”
“Sure. But I don’t want to cause trouble—”
“You don’t?” Nikki looked astonished, as if the thought of keeping peace had never occurred to her. “Oh, come on! Julian is just begging for trouble.”
“He’s powerful,” Mia said. Could hire me and fire me a hundred times over.
“But kind.”
“Arrogant.” And deserves to be hoisted on his own petard.
“Not cruel, though.”
“He’s also dangerously attractive.” You can say that again.
“Pah.” Nikki’s eyes narrowed. “You can resist.”
Someone has to, Mia thought. But why me?
“You won’t have to do anything but keep your mouth closed,” Nikki said. “I’ll turn in the background info to Julian like an obedient little airhead, and he’ll think I’m none the wiser that the fashion spread—if there really is one—was meant for Hard Candy. Meanwhile, I’ll get started on an article. I can pitch it to the magazine even if Julian doesn’t follow through. If you hear from him, play dumb. Remember, it’s possible that he’s only interested in getting into your—” Nikki’s lashes dropped to Mia’s lower half “—painter’s pants.”
