Grounded (Up in the Air #3)(29)

The entire photo shoot episode felt strange to me. I knew from the second we walked in the door that I was out of place. I had dressed the part of the billionaire’s girlfriend, but it just wasn’t me, and I felt a little uncomfortable in my own skin as they swept James off to prep for the photo, and I was expected to just stand around and wait.

Everyone was polite enough, asking me if I needed anything, finding me the best spot to sit and watch the shoot, but it all just made me more self-conscious. I was quickly hiding behind my calmest, blankest expression, and I was all nerves on the inside.

The security wasn’t helping, of course, looking severe and intimidating as they positioned themselves around me and stared down the room. I finally resorted to playing on my phone. I saw a missed text from Stephan and clicked on it immediately.

Stephan: I think meeting up with these guys was a bad idea. They are openly hostile and I’m not sure why.

Bianca: Vance is hung up on Javier, I think. I’ve always gotten that vibe. Is there anything I can do to help? Want me to come there for moral support?

I felt my face heat up in agitation at even the thought of someone being mean to Stephan. He was a very strong man—a very strong person, but I still couldn’t bear the thought.

Stephan: Nah, it’s not that serious, B. I’ll prolly just duck out ahead of schedule. I would like to hang out when u r done there, so give me a holler.

Bianca: Of course. You name the time and place, and I’ll be there. Always.

Stephan: Your swank pad, as soon as you’re done watching your supermodel get photographed.

Bianca: You got it. Love you.

Stephan: Love you, B.

I felt a strong urge to ignore what he said and just go and find him and make sure he was okay, but I stifled it. Stephan was usually very good at telling me just what he needed from me, and if he said that it wasn’t that serious—that he just wanted to hang out when he was done, then that was what he wanted, and that’s what I would do.

I was still stewing about it when James emerged from the changing area. My jaw went a little slack and my mind went completely blank.

He was wearing pale gray slacks and a bright white tie. And that was all. His chest and even his feet were bare, his skin dark and golden against the pale fabric of the tie. His chest was oiled and the sight of it literally made my mouth water. His pants were ridiculously low-slung for dress slacks, which meant they were from wardrobe, and not his. I couldn’t imagine him wearing a suit to work that didn’t fit just perfectly, and those pants looked in danger of falling off, and showing his most delectable parts to the room.

I swallowed hard as he strode to me, watching that V above his waistband move distractingly with stark muscles.

He drew close.

“Hello, Mr. Beautiful,” I said, my voice very soft. It just sort of slipped out.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that right now, Bianca,” he said with a fond smile. “Not unless you want a lot of magazine subscribers to get a really clear picture of my hard-on.”

I nodded. He had a very good point, but I still couldn’t stop looking at him. His chest had the finest sheen of oil on it.

I touched it with a finger.

He grabbed my hand. “Now, now,” he said, but there was still a smile in his voice.

I made myself look at his face. Of course, that view was just as distracting. Someone had tied his hair back from his face. His hair looked darker like that, all of the highlights hidden away.

I clenched my fists to keep from touching him. I was finding it so difficult to keep my hands to myself lately. It was a strange new development for me, when I’d almost always found touching and being touched to be anathema.

I cleared my throat. “You look…” Delectable. Edible. Mouth-watering. “Very nice.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Hopefully I can get this finished quickly.”

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.