The One He's Been Looking For

“Would you mind keeping it down? My head is killing me.”

“I’ll bet.” Ian didn’t bother to hide his annoyance.

He was standing directly in front of her, arms crossed over his defined chest. He was dressed more casually today in a fitted T-shirt and jeans, which only seemed to add to his appeal. Her heart picked up its pace when she looked up into his face. How could a real live human actually be that good-looking? Yes, the angles of his face were more defined, his hair was cut close to his scalp and there were lines etched in his forehead and around his eyes that hadn’t been there before. But there was no mistaking that Ian was the man she’d had hanging on her wall in high school. The man she’d fantasized about for years. He unnerved her now, and she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had made her feel that way.

His eyes swept her face in that clinical manner of his. He knew she was hungover; she waited for him to say the magic words: get lost. But they never came. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified.

Instead of giving her the boot, Ian ignored her and addressed Violet, who was standing to his left with the corners of her glossy, full lips pressed down into a frown. “Give her a nude mouth, emphasize the eyes, but don’t overdo it.... I want her to look fresh. Natural. And for God’s sake, try to do something with the dark circles and the bloodshot eyes. She looks like she’s been up for a week.”

“What about the hair?”

Jordan didn’t appreciate them speaking over her head as if she was an oversize stuffed doll they were dressing up.

“Twist it back off her face. I don’t want anything to detract from her face. Keep the jeans, but lose the combat boots and the T-shirt. Put her in a white tank.” Ian turned to her and asked, “Do you have on a bra?”

“Excuse me?” Was the Armani guy from her high school wet dreams asking her about foundation garments?

“Do you have on a bra?”

Jordan glanced down at her barely there bust and shook her head. “Lifting and separating has never been a concern.”

“Get her a bra if she wants one. And have her fill out the release form before you bring her in.” Ian said to Violet before he exited the room without glancing Jordan’s way again.

Violet worked quickly and silently, and within in a short time Jordan had been transformed, much to her surprise, into a woman who actually resembled a model. She leaned forward and examined her reflection.

“That’s cra-zy,” she exclaimed. “How’d you do that?”

Even to her own critical eye, she looked like a solid eight on a ten-point scale.

Violet ignored her question and held out her hands for the filled-out release forms. “Come on,” she said in her bored, bossy tone. “He’s waited long enough for you today.”

Jordan followed her to the back of the studio, to a small area surrounded by reflectors and tall, bright lights. Ian was setting up one of his cameras.

“She’s all yours,” Violet said before she turned on her heel and headed back to her room.

Ian spun around and strode over to where Jordan was standing; he examined her hair and makeup. She stood perfectly still and held her breath for some ridiculous reason. Why should she care if he approved? But she did.

His eyes finally stopped and locked onto hers. “You clean up well.”

Typically, she would have a snappy comeback, but at the moment her mind was a blank. She felt as if her legs had turned to cement, and she was feeling a bit nauseous again. She was completely out of her element.

This wasn’t a seedy, dark artist’s dungeon filled with disenfranchised, unemployed kindred spirits. This was frickin’ ridiculously handsome Armani-model photographer-to-the-stars Ian Sterling’s studio. She didn’t fit in here. What had she been thinking?

“Blink if you can hear me,” Ian said in a lowered voice that was meant for her ears only.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here.” The honesty bubbled out unchecked. She must be more freaked out than she’d thought.

He reached out and placed his palms on her bare shoulders. His large, warm hands engulfed them as he moved his mouth closer to her ear. “You’re here for the money.”

The sensation of his breath on her skin released a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. She nodded her head slightly and tightened her abdominal muscles in an attempt to get the stupid things under control. This was the wrong time to get all stirred up. She needed to focus on what the man was saying, not the sensation his breath was creating as he was saying it.

Focus, Jordy! Focus!

After a moment, she was able to refocus her brain on Ian’s words. The man had made perfect sense and his point was undeniably valid. She was here for the money. She didn’t understand why she was being such a chicken, but the thought of not being able to make rent snapped her out of it. With a renewed sense of purpose, she squared her shoulders, rolled them out from underneath Ian’s hands and elevated her chin.

“What now?” she asked.

“Now? You pose, I shoot. Simple.” He walked over to a table and reached for one of the cameras placed there. “Are you ready?”

“Sure.” She said it with a bravado she didn’t really feel.

The minute Ian picked up the camera, she saw him transform. He had the same look on his face that she imagined she had on hers when she set up a brand-new canvas and opened up a fresh tube of paint. Holding the camera in his hand seemed to electrify him. It was strange, but this was first time he’d actually seemed truly alive. The man obviously loved his job.

“I want to be flexible today, but I definitely want to get a beauty shot of you. Do you know what that is?”

“I’ve watched modeling shows on television before.”

Ian smiled at her. “So you’re practically a pro.”

For the next several seconds all she could do was stare mindlessly at his perfectly straight, perfectly formed white teeth.

“Those have to be veneers.” She heard herself speaking her thoughts aloud like a freak. Was she still drunk? Had she developed sudden-onset Tourette’s? What was she talking about?

“What?” he asked.

“What?” She answered his question with a question, and pretended that she hadn’t said a word. She forced herself to drag her eyes away from his mouth.

For an awkward minute, they looked at each other curiously before Ian moved on from her odd comment and explained, “A beauty shot simply means that I’ll be focusing on your face. But don’t let your body get stiff—relax and move.”

“Relax and move,” Jordan repeated.

“And the most important thing for you to remember is to keep the intensity in your eyes,” Ian continued. “The eyes sell the shot...which is why a beauty shot can be one of the hardest for a model to master.”

“Shouldn’t you let me ride with the training wheels on first?” she asked. They had drawn a crowd. Everyone in the loft, including the two famished models from the couch, were standing at the edge of the set.

Ian gestured for her to move over until she was standing in front of a large white screen. “You ride a Ducati, so you don’t need training wheels,” he said as he aimed his camera at her.

Standing in front of Ian now, Jordan felt completely vulnerable and exposed in the filmy white tank top. She made a good show of being a rebel with a cause, but underneath it all, she was just a conservative girl from Montana.

“Okay.” He seemed oblivious to her discomfort. “Let’s get started.”

He took a couple more shots to test the lighting. He checked the computer monitor and then nodded. “Lighting’s good.... Now focus on me, Jordan. Forget everything else.” The gravelly quality of his voice as he said her name sent a shiver racing right up her spine.

Jordan breathed in deeply and tried to put the audience out of her mind, but she could see the praying mantis twins burning holes into her flesh from the corner of her eye. Another flash popped.

“Look straight into the camera. Chin up just a little bit. Relax your mouth. Good, Jordan. Very nice.”

She tried to relax, but instead just felt stupid and awkward.