Behind His Lens(53)

“What a great suit,” a sweet voice sounds behind me. I turn to see the brunette model that only an hour ago I was mentioning to Jude for compensation.

“Oh thanks.” I smile. “I’m Charley by the way.”

“Bella,” she coos, taking my hand. She’s absolutely beautiful with deeply tanned skin and long silky brown hair. Not to mention I’ve seen her in dozens of magazines over the past year. Why didn’t they choose her for the cover?

“So I saw you sitting with Jude on the plane.” Her head tilts to the side gently and she rests her hand against her elbow. Wow, she really cuts to the chase. Her sentence wasn’t posed as a question, but her tone insinuates that I should answer as though it was.

“Yeah, he’s a friend,” I answer curtly, unsure of where she’s leading the conversation.

I guess my tone was overtly defensive because she holds her left hand up so that her beautiful ring glistens in the light. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. But you should know that I’ve worked with him on a few other shoots. He’s never dated any models that I know of, but let’s just say that some of these girls wouldn’t mind being his first.”


My eyes scan through the crowd as she speaks. It’s not like I couldn’t already see that, but I wonder why she wants to point it out to me.

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask with a slight smile so she doesn’t think I’m angry with her.

“I saw you guys cuddling when I used the plane’s bathroom. It was incredibly sweet and I don’t presume to know what’s going on, but if you are more than just friends, I wouldn’t let these girls get to you.”

I’m about to explain to her that we aren’t more than friends, but I bite my lip. She’s trying to help me out and I appreciate it. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly intimidated by the thought of all these beautiful women pining for Jude. Damn him. If he weren’t full of such dark sexiness, this wouldn’t be a problem.

“I appreciate it, Bella.” I smile before swapping the subject. “Where are you from?”

…

By the time the fittings are done and I’m back in my room, exhaustion has set in and nothing sounds better than a relaxing bubble bath before I crawl into my king-sized bed. The bath is practically overflowing, music streams from my phone, and I’ve dimmed the lights so that shadows cast across the gleaming marble floor. The bathroom angles toward the ocean, so that if I leave the door open I can see the rolling waves fading into the black night as I recline into the Jacuzzi style tub. It’s perfect and I let my mind wander as I soak myself into a pruned raisin.

The water turned lukewarm a while ago, but I haven’t been able to force myself to get out. The only reason I stir at all is because the last song on my play-list cut off, silencing the room and awaking reality. The peace and quiet was just what I needed after the hectic day, even if a certain pair of dark eyes still wove their way into my thoughts the entire time.

Suddenly, a loud clap sounds at my door and I jump, sloshing water over the side of the tub. Who would be coming by? I didn’t order room service, even though I should probably eat soon. I haven’t thought to have dinner yet. I step out, grabbing my towel to dry off, before quickly wrapping my body in one of the resort’s plush robes. They’re fluffy, white, and reach the tips of my feet. I’m completely cocooned in its warmth as I trek to the door. I lean in to look through the peep hole. My heart races when I see Jude’s confident smile on the other side.

With my hand clutching the top of my robe closed, I unlock the door and slide it open.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, even though I can see the bags of food in his hand. Maybe he’s just stopping by on the way to his room.

“You have to eat something,” he answers, as if the situation between us is completely black and white.

I clutch the robe tighter. “How do you know I haven’t eaten already?”

His eyes scan down my robe before landing back on my face with an easy smirk. “Charley, have you eaten yet?”

I suck in my bottom lip trying to stall for time, but it doesn’t work. “No,” I answer simply.

He holds up the bags, “Don’t worry, I won’t keep you up late, I swear.” He crosses his hand over his heart and my resolve melts ever so slightly.

I want him to come in. I do. I want him to so badly. But what happened earlier is still fresh in mind, and if he comes in now I’m scared of where it might lead. Or do I want it to lead there? I certainly did earlier…