Grounded (Up in the Air, #3)(30)

He strode away before I could respond, moving towards where they were setting up the shoot.

I observed the whole process very much as an outsider looking in. An obsessed, infatuated, outsider looking in. But going by the similar, glassy-eyed female stares I noted wherever I glanced, I wasn’t the only one.

One lucky woman got the task of showing him where to stand and what to do. I didn’t miss the fact that she used every excuse to touch him. Could I blame her? Yes. But I found that I wasn’t even the slightest bit jealous. How could I be when James tried to withdraw from every touch? He was professional but very cool with the woman.

The woman was almost too thin, but still indisputably attractive, with dark hair and eyes, and Hollywood lips. She could have been anywhere from thirty to forty-five. It didn’t matter on her. Youth or the lack thereof was not where her beauty lay. Still, I didn’t feel even a stirring of insecurity as she put her hands on him. Instead, I almost pitied the awkward position he found himself in. He shot me occasional, uncomfortable glances as she handled him, as though he were more afraid of upsetting me than he was concerned about doing the shoot. It made me flush a little every time he did it, though those were the only looks he was sparing me.

The woman backed away from him finally, and the shoot began. When she began to call out orders to the crew, I realized that she must be the director. By the way she’d been acting, I’d assumed she was some sort of star-struck assistant. I supposed I knew better than anyone how Mr. Beautiful could turn even the most stoic woman into a love-struck fool.

Every move that he made suddenly became extra fascinating, and it had always been pretty damned fascinating to me. He didn’t smile, just moved his face by infinitesimal degrees, this way and that way, catching every perfect angle for the various shots.

His hands started at his hips but moved up to lace behind his head, drawing his abs taut and making his arms bulge in the most appealing way. It might have just been me, but his tie seemed to be pointing suggestively down, and I couldn’t help but notice how the pose stretched the Bianca on his chest, displaying it like a prize. It made me smile. He was insane, but that was becoming just another thing that I adored about him. It was also becoming apparent that I only had a passing relationship with sanity myself.

They took shot after shot as he shifted around at the director’s command. She called a halt maybe ten minutes in.

“Annie, get me some suspenders!” she barked.

A small blonde woman scurried back into wardrobe.

The two women were swiftly attaching suspenders to his low-slung slacks, which seemed wholly unnecessary, and very unprofessional to me, but what did I know? They resumed the shot quickly.

James had to pull one suspender to the side to show off his red ink, but no one stopped him.

I could see why they’d added the suspenders, though I’d thought it was a strange thing to do. It was sexy. Like insane sex on horseback sexy. Something about the business attire set against his tan oiled chest was obscene, bordering on mind-blowing orgasm just looking at him, sexy.

They took endless pictures of his every shift in posture and expression. Eventually they made him turn, taking shot after shot of his ripped back. He shrugged out of one errant suspender to show off the tattoo on his back.

I shifted closer to study it, still feeling a little shell-shocked every time I caught a glimpse of my face on his back. I knew from hearing several friends talk about it that tattoos scabbed over at first, sometimes marring the ink for weeks, but I could see no sign of that yet on this one. It seemed perfect, still looking like a painting on his back.

I still thought the tattoo was insane, though I was beginning to understand why he’d done it.

He was committed to me, for whatever crazy reason, and I was so closed off that he hadn’t been able to just come out and say it, and have me believe him. I was too damaged, too skeptical of everything good in life. This had been his bat-shit crazy way of trying to prove it to me. He was so like Stephan in that way, so willing to throw all pride aside for the sake of loving me. I knew in my soul that there was nothing Stephan wouldn’t do for me, and I was beginning to see that James had that same startling quality. What had I done to deserve such devoted men in my life? I couldn’t fathom it. It all just seemed to be good to be true.





[page]CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mr. Gorgeous





After an exhaustive amount of posing, James was led off to change into another outfit for the shoot. I couldn’t imagine why. I’d seen the shoot. There was no way they hadn’t gotten a good string of pictures out of it.

The director approached me as James disappeared into the dressing area. She smiled at me. It was a polished, professional kind of smile. I wondered if she’d been a model before she’d directed photo shoots.

She waved a hand at her own chest. “So I take it you’re this Bianca?” she asked, and I realized she was referencing the tattoo she’d just been staring at for an hour.

I nodded, not really sure how to respond.

She held out a hand. “I’m Beatrice Stoker. I’m the director.”

I shook her hand, and she squeezed hard, like it was some kind of a test. I gave her a half-hearted response, not interested in whatever way she thought she was testing me with such a strange action.

“Bianca,” I told her, even though she obviously knew that.