VAIN: Part One(4)
My libido jumps at the announcement. Wait? He's been looking for someone just like me? As in, a woman with long blonde hair and blue eyes who apparently looks like a hooker who delivers sandwiches? "For what?" I raise a brow. If I don't ask, I'm never going to know.
"For my next project."
I lick my lips wondering if his next project involves me getting as naked as he still is. "What kind of project?"
The shrill bite of a ringing phone cuts through the space. "I have to get that." He turns to walk down the hallway towards what looks like a multitude of doorways. "Wait right there."
I use the momentary reprieve to fetch my own phone from my bag and pull open the browser. If I'm lucky I can get in a quick search of who the Noah Foster is before he comes bouncing back down the marble corridor towards me. My knees buckle, my heart pounds and my entire body flushes as I scan the results. This is a world I have absolutely no interest in. My mother taught me not to be impolite but there's no way in hell I'm sticking around to say goodbye to him.
Chapter 3
"That sandwich was for the Noah Foster?"
"The Noah Foster?" I try to stifle a laugh as I stare at Sadie's face. "You sound exactly like him."
"He's a recluse." She leans back in her chair. "No one ever sees him anymore."
The image of the scar that covers his cheek flashes back into my mind. "Anymore?"
"He just disappeared from the public…" her voice trails as she studies the pile of linen napkins she's folding. "He used to be in all the papers dating this celebrity or that one. He dated a lot of models too. Then he kind of just went underground or something. You know how those artsy types are. What did you two talk about?"
I playfully scowl at her. "Once I read that he was selling nudie pics of women for thousands of dollars I high tailed it out of there."
"You make it sound so disgusting." She pulls her head back in a laugh. "He's a very famous photographer. His pictures are in demand. They're breathtaking."
"How do you even know that?"
"Everyone knows who Noah Foster is." She tilts her head to the side so quickly, her long brown hair flits across her face. "My mom has one of his images in her library."
"That gorgeous abstract picture of a woman's back?" I ask. I've long admired the beauty in that photograph but whatever interest I had in it was fleeting. I just remember being surprised that Sadie's conservative mother would have a picture of a woman's naked back and side boob on full display.
"That's the one." She nods as her gaze travels past my head to where her husband, Hunter, is standing at the front door to their restaurant.
"Was he good to you when I was away?" I ask it teasingly although the question itself is rooted in concern. Hunter and Sadie's relationship hasn’t been easy on her and now that she's married to him, I can't help but be worried about the best friend I've had since grade school. She's always been so focused on becoming a doctor, and now with a husband and stepson I worry that her own dreams will get lost within what the family needs.
"He's amazing." Her eyes catch mine. "What about you?"
I know where she's going with this and I'm not about to travel down that road with her. I'd confided in her about my brief romance while I was in Paris. The man I'd gotten involved with was bad news from the start and Sadie has warned me that I'd get burned. I wasn't in the mood for a lecture on yet another of the idiotic man choices I'd made over the years. "Noah has a scar."
She physically shudders at my statement. I want a diversion but this is a touchy subject for her and it's not fair of me to throw it at her when she's not ready. I should have warmed her up a bit.
"Like my scar." Her hand leaps to her chest and her fingers fan across it. The large scar that is the ever-present reminder of her heart transplant has always caused her emotional pain. I know that. We've been almost inseparable since we were kids. Tossing Noah's scar into the middle of our conversation is something I instantly regret.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "It's not like yours. His is on his face."
"His face?"
I nod. "He was all weird about it. He actually pointed it out to me."
"You didn't notice it?" She pushes the napkins aside and runs her hand over the tablecloth. "It can't be that noticeable then."
"I was staring at his cock so I didn't notice the scar." As soon as the words leave my mouth I realize they sound way too casual.