Into the Fury (BOSS, Inc. #1)(12)

She wondered if he might be gay, since he never seemed to notice any of the women. But she hadn’t gotten gay vibes when he’d talked to her—just the opposite—so maybe he was simply doing his job the way he was supposed to.

She remembered the little zing they had shared, remembered the way his eyes had darkened. Definitely not gay, more likely a macho type who thought all women existed merely for his own personal pleasure.

She followed Rosa into the dressing room, found two other models inside, Isabel and Delilah. Delilah wasn’t one of her favorites. She was way too full of herself, plus she loved gossip and had a knack for spinning it in whatever direction would make her look good. Still, she was mostly okay.

Dark-haired and sultry, Isabel Rafaeli was a lot of fun. She came from a big Italian family who were all really proud of her. Izzy had told her the Rafaelis had flown in from Brooklyn: mother, father, two brothers and their girlfriends, even her older sister, Maria, for Izzy’s first La Belle fashion show.

Val felt a pang in her chest. She would love to have a family with lots of brothers and sisters. But her mom and dad had died in a car accident when she was ten years old. The only family she had, a distant cousin and her no-good husband who lived in Seattle, had stepped in to raise her.

But living with them was hell, nothing at all like the loving family home she’d had before. When she was twelve years old she ran away, then eventually wound up in the foster care system. By the time she turned sixteen, she had a chip on her shoulder the size of a boulder and was always in some kind of trouble. If it hadn’t been for the Hartmans, an older couple living on a small farm in Bellingham . . .

She jumped at a light slap on her rump.

“Pay attention, young lady. I’ve got a lot of other girls to take care of besides just you.”

“Sorry, Rosa.” From the beginning, she had been self-conscious about stripping buck naked in front of a bunch of women she hardly knew. She had learned to steel herself and just get it done, which she did now.

For the first segment, Nashville Country, she was wearing a pair of red lace hip-hugger panties that dipped low in front, rode high in back, and showed the lower portion of the cheeks of her behind. The push-up bra was red, too. Beautiful garments for a woman’s boudoir.

Unfortunately, tomorrow night she’d be wearing them on national TV.

Once she had on the panties and bra, Rosa tied a red bandanna around her neck.

“Sit down and put on your boots,” the woman commanded.

At Rosa’s no-nonsense tone, Val obeyed, pulling on an amazing pair of red high-heeled cowboy boots with a ruby-studded eagle on the front. Red stones flashed around the brim of the white felt cowboy hat she settled over her long blond curls.

“Walk across the room, turn, and walk back.”

She did as she was told, glittery red earrings dangling from her ears, sparkling with every step.

Rosa frowned. “Stand still, now. I don’t like that little pucker on your right hip.” The fit of each garment had to be exact. There wasn’t a fabric bulge, a loose button, or a flyaway thread, not an uneven hem. Nothing but perfection was allowed.

Rosa took scissors, then a needle and thread to the offending pucker, and it quickly disappeared.

“All right, that’s it. You can go. They’re waiting out there for you now.”

“Thanks, Rosa.”

The woman made a shooing motion and Val hurried out as Caralee Peterson walked into the dressing room.

Val grinned. “She’s a tyrant. Good luck.”

Caralee grinned back. “Rosa’s gonna make that little ol’ bustier I’m wearin’ fit like a glove. Gonna make all the men go Southern crazy.”

Val laughed, liking Caralee. She took a deep breath and headed for her place in the Nashville Country lineup, spotted Ethan and a pair of biceps that threatened the seams of his black T-shirt. At the little lift she felt in her stomach, she carefully kept her eyes straight ahead, determined to ignore him. But she couldn’t help wondering if he would approve of the way she looked in her sexy red lingerie.





Chapter Five



“I don’t know about you,” Dirk grumbled, “but I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I’ve been walking around with a hard-on for the past two hours.”

Ethan chuckled. When he’d seen Valentine Hart walk out in her tiny red lace panties and a bra that shoved up her breasts like a feast for a king, he’d had to fight damned hard to maintain his highly prized control. Damned hard.He almost smiled.

“You like that one, don’t you?” Dirk said. “Valentine. Gotta love the name.”

“Sounds like a stripper, and I don’t like her—I don’t even know her. She’s Samantha’s friend. Sam asked me to keep a special eye on her.”

Dirk laughed. “Well, you shouldn’t have much trouble doing that.”

Ethan flashed him a look. “Somewhere in your testosterone-fogged brain you do recall there’s no mixing with the staff?”

Before Dirk could reply, one of the girls walked past wearing nothing but a silver thong and a strapless silver bra. She slid a sexy smile toward Dirk, and he groaned.

“Oh, yeah, I recall. I’m reminded every few minutes.”

The corner of Ethan’s mouth edged up. He could hardly blame his friend. He had never seen such an astonishing array of beautiful faces and drop-dead gorgeous bodies.