Vain - Part One (Vain, #1)(3)
His eyes brighten as his full lips part in a broad smile. "You have no idea, do you?"
I feel like the timid mouse in a game of chase with a big, bad, bold cat. "About?" I ask expectantly. He must be somebody beyond a guy who walks around buck naked all the time. Since he hasn't been on one of the Internet gossip sites I frequent a lot, he's a nobody to me. Correction, he's a gorgeous nobody with a ridiculously appealing dick.
"Who I am," he volleys back calmly. "You seriously don't know who I am?"
I take a step back feeling as though I need to make room for his massive ego. "No," I answer firmly. "Who are you?"
He shakes his head slightly before he brushes past me. "Do you have any tattoos, Alexa?" The way he ignores my question pulls on my frustration. I should fish my smartphone back out of my purse and Google him on the spot. Is he a tattoo artist? That would make sense given the beautiful artwork he's proudly displaying all over his ripe, aching-to-be-licked body.
"Tattoos?" I ask. Did that sound as na?ve as I think it did? When did I become such a muttering idiot? I've seen naked men before. I've seen men with tattoos before. Why is my brain bouncing around so much? Why can't I seem at least vaguely intelligent right now?
He's directly in front of me now and I can smell the musky combination of his skin and whatever cologne he's slathered all over his body. His eyes drop straight to the top of my breasts. They're pushed so tightly together it's a wonder I can even breathe. "Is any of this beautiful body of yours covered with ink?"
I exhale sharply as his index finger lightly brushes across my neck. "I don't have any of those. No tattoos." I wince inside when I say it. I've never wanted one. What if he thinks that my unmarked body isn't up to par with what he wants? Why the hell do I care?
"Have you modelled?" His warm breath skirts over my skin as he leans even closer. It's taking every ounce of willpower I have not to reach out to grab hold of his dick.
"What?" Please repeat the question I almost whisper or stop talking and f*ck me instead.
"Have you ever done any modeling?" He pivots back on his heel now and I instantly feel as though the room has been deluged with an abundance of oxygen. I can breathe. I can think again.
"Why?" Answering a question with a question is something I retrieve from my bag of lame tricks whenever I feel overwhelmed by a man. It doesn't happen often, but let's face it; the Noah Foster isn't your everyday kind of man.
"You're gorgeous." His lips curl into another dazzling smile. "I've been looking for someone just like you."
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.