Behind His Lens (17 page)

I blush and tug a hand through my hair. “Oh, be quiet. You know I’m going to hide out as much as possible.”

He laughs. “It’s strange that a girl like you would get into such a public profession.”

I nod
because he’s right, but there’s more to it than that. “Yeah, well, if you saw the paycheck you might not think that. I’m essentially selling my soul and my right for privacy for a burlap sack with a money sign on it.”

“Ah,” he waggles his eyebrows, making us laugh.

A beat later, my eyes fall on Bennett’s tailored suit and Naomi’s gorgeous ivory wrap dress. Suddenly I feel way under-dressed in my slouchy jeans and knitted sweater, even if they are designer.

“Did you guys come straight from work?”

“Yeah,” they say in unison, and then smile lovingly toward one another as if they’re straight out of a 1950s afternoon special.

“Do you have to hide the relationship while you’re there, or does it not matter since you two are in different departments?” I ask, curious about how their relationship pans out during the work day. What would it be like to work with Jude? I can’t imagine my days would be
very productive. I’d be on edge the whole day, wondering when he would turn the corner and find me daydreaming about him, drooling like a sap at my desk.

Bennett sighs, “We haven’t disclosed it with H.R. yet, but we should soon.”

“Oh, yeah, we should,” Naomi agrees, dropping her gaze. It’s a strange reaction, but I’ll let it slide for now. Maybe they’ve been avoiding discussing the topic. I’d imagine it’s a big step to make their relationship public at work. It puts more pressure on the situation and they probably don’t want to be the topic of workplace gossip.

I clear my throat, “Do you guys already know what you want?”

“We were thinking of just splitting a large pizza. We need to fatten you up!” Naomi laughs, and I’m glad to see her light mood again.

“Ha-ha. Sadly that’s true. I’ve been too nervous to eat this week. I’ve never done a cover shoot before.”

“You’ll be great; don’t worry about it, Charley,” Naomi states confidently.

I nod and drag my eyes down the menu, reading over all of the topping options.

“I’m good with whatever you guys want, as long as it has pepperoni,” I decide, dropping the menu back onto the table and reaching for my water. I squeeze the lemon into the glass and swirl it around until the bitter citrus has dispersed completely.

When the waitress comes around, Bennett orders our
large pizza with olives, mushrooms, spinach, and pepperoni. Just hearing him describe the ingredients makes my mouth salivate like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

B
ut the second the waitress leaves, Naomi steeples her fingers and studies me with an air of concentration. The mood around the table instantly shifts from friendly dinner to shits-about-to-get-real. When I glance between them, it’s clear I’m about to be subjected to an intervention of sorts.

“Are you nervous that Jude will be in Hawaii as well?” Naomi asks
candidly, keeping her razor sharp gaze on me.

“Naomi…” I warn, not really wanting to discuss everything in front of Bennett. He’s hardly an unbiased third party.

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” he offers, as if realizing his awkward position. “It’s not like I haven’t had to listen to Jude rambling on about you for the past two weeks.”

“What?” I ask before I think better of it. “No, wait. It doesn’t matter.”

“Charley, he’s obviously crazy about you,” Naomi offers gently.

“Yeah, well I’m not happy about his involvement with the casting of the shoot. It feels sl
imy and I hate having to second-guess my reasons for being hired. Those models are going to be the most gorgeous women in the world and they’re going to judge the fact that I was given the cover.”

“Don’t let them bother you,” Naomi advises, “remember you’re absolutely gorgeous, and yes, Jude might have introduced you to Ryan, but
Ryan wouldn’t have agreed with Jude if you weren’t perfect. Why would he have? It’s his name that’s at stake if people don’t like his cover.”

“Maybe he owed Jude a favor…” My insecurities rear their ugly head, and then I bite back my words. “Whatever. I’m going to avoid him at all cost. He can party with the other models. I’ll focus on the shoot and soaking up as much sun as I can. It’ll be fine.”

Bennett bites his lip and I know he’s fighting an internal battle about whether he should speak up or not. When his mouth opens a moment later, I take a deep breath, preparing for his testimony.

“Charley, I don’t think you should write Jude off just yet. He was being honest when he said he never dates models; you’re the first he’s ever cared to get to know.
His dating habits weren’t completely wholesome in the past,” my stomach twists in knots thinking about Jude with women before me, “but he’s different around you.” He pauses and then decides to continue on, “And there are things in his past that pushed him toward that way of life. They aren’t my stories to tell, but there’s more to Jude than what you see on the surface.”

Damnit
Bennett. Damnit. Damnit.

I don’t want to hear all of this. I want Bennett’s eyes to hold less sincerity, less honesty. I know he’s telling me the truth, and as hard as I try to reinforce the walls around my heart, already I feel another small piece breaking apart for Jude. For this man that might have as many demons as I do.

Wiping my hand down my cheek in defeat, I sigh and meet his eyes. “Can I promise that I’ll take your words to heart if we stop talking about him for the rest of dinner?”

My stomach is coiled into a tight knot and I just want to relax and eat some pizza.

Naomi reaches across the table and grabs my hand.

Looking into my eyes, she offers me a hopeful look. “I’m really excited for you. This is a good step. You deserve
it; don’t let your past ruin it for you.”

Jude

The private airplane hangar is buzzing with activity even though it’s hardly half past five in the morning. The world was silent on the cab ride over, but here, everyone’s grabbing coffee and securing their luggage and carry-ons. I sigh, reclining back in the soft leather chair as my assistants confirm that all of our equipment is accounted for. It’s cold in the lobby so I tug on my leather jacket, reminding myself that soon I’ll be in Hawaii and away from the cold for three days. Perfect.

A stout, middle-aged
flight attendant, dressed head-to-toe in navy blue, announces that we can begin to board the plane while we wait for the rest of the passengers. Leaning down to grab my luggage, I recheck my phone, trying to stall a moment longer because Charley hasn’t arrived yet. I almost called her yesterday to insist that she let me pick her up, or at least hire a car service for her, but I ended up deciding against it. When we talked on the phone about the shoot she told me she “hated me,” and although I know those words couldn’t be farther from the truth, I wanted to give her some space.

I don’t regret
offering her name to Ryan. She should have booked the cover over Candace to begin with, and I’m glad everything worked out in the end. She can be angry with me all she wants. Hell, it’s a turn on anyway. I smile wickedly thinking of her sexy voice during our phone conversation.

The stout
flight attendant props open a pair of sleek glass doors that lead out onto the runway. Everyone begins filing past me, heading into the foggy, dark air to begin loading their luggage. I hang back for another moment, hoping Charley will appear. A few minutes pass. Nearly everyone has filtered out of the lobby and there’s still no sign of her, so I decide to board and save two seats.

The cabin of the private jet is luxurious, with light brown leather seats lining a
long aisle in pairs. Thankfully the rows aren’t crammed together. There’s enough room to recline fully so that the chairs form makeshift beds. I claim a row in the back of the plane, tossing my carry-on bag onto the window seat to save it for her. If I had to guess, I’d assume Charley would want the opportunity to glance out the window. The thought makes me narrow my eyes toward the front of my plane in search of her.

All I see is
a flurry of glimmering hair in varying colors as the other models flounce around the plane. I recognize most of them from the casting process or from previous photo shoots. I don’t think I’ve actually held a real conversation with any of them, though it’s not from their lack of perseverance. The moment I take my seat, a few of them hop up and make their way to toward my row like piranhas.

“Morning, Jude
,” a pretty redhead sings as she angles her body toward me. I have to fight the urge to pull out my phone and ignore her greeting all together. Don’t feel bad for her. I’ve seen her jump from bed to bed on every shoot we’ve worked on together. She’s not interested in the “morning”; she’s interested in having a quickie in the plane’s restroom. The girls keep talking but their words filter through the air unheard, as if my ears don’t recognize the frequency in which they speak. I nod and offer simple greetings, but it’s impossible to ignore their lingering gazes. A few of them even glance at my carry-on bag on the vacant seat, but I smile civilly and cut the conversations short. The last thing I need is for Charley to board right as one of them is trying to sink their claws into me. I don’t need any more cards stacked against me when it comes to her.

They eventually wander off, and a
s the plane continues to fill, I smirk, pleased with myself for not ordering that car service after all. If I had, Charley would have been here ten minutes ago and she could have picked a seat anywhere on board. Now there are fewer spots available and the odds that she’ll
have
to sit by me are looking better and better.

That is until I see Ryan board the plane a moment later with Charley in tow. Motherfucker. She’s tilting her head back and smiling up at
him; a perfectly beautiful smile, except it’s aimed at the wrong person. Ryan’s assistant, who boarded right after them, taps him on the shoulder and mutters something in his ear. He nods, taking out his cell phone, leaving Charley to wave goodbye and look up toward the aisle of the plane.

Her
blue eyes find me and I watch her swallow slowly. She hovers in the middle of the aisle, frozen, until she realizes that she’s blocking everyone’s path. She blushes and murmurs an apology before hiking her bag higher on her shoulder and starting to walk toward the back of the plane, directly to me.

I stand as she approaches, taking in her sexy jeans and tight white, long-sleeved shirt.

“Morning.” I try to keep the smile off my lips, I really do, but I still feel the ends of my mouth curling up.

She narrows her eyes
sharply in response and I know I’m not in the clear yet. I gesture over to the window. “I saved you a seat.”

Twisting her head around, she takes in her other options.
Most of the crew has paired off and a few of the models are chatting casually. Ryan’s sitting with his assistant, which leaves Charley to choose between sitting by me or the chubby lighting director.

“But if you’d rather…” I goad, leaning in so that my breath tingles across her skin.

She rolls her eyes and brushes past me to get to the seat. I thought she was sexy on the phone, but seeing her pissed in real life feels like a wicked challenge I can’t wait to take on. Her butt brushes against my thigh, barely grazing the front of my pants. I inhale and clench my fist. Surely she didn’t do that on purpose, or she’s playing much dirtier than I was expecting.

I grab my carry-on bag and shove it under my seat as she sits down and gets comfortable. I can smell vanilla lingering in the air she just occupied, and I wonder if that’s the scent she chooses for
body wash as well as lip gloss. I’m still fixated on that thought when she leans in, whispering so quietly that no one else can hear. “I don’t hate you.”

The words aren’t what
stir my heart; it’s the tone she uses, as if she were murmuring sweet nothings into my ear instead of a white flag. I lick my lips, needing to adjust myself so I can sit more comfortably, but I don’t want to give her the satisfaction. The past few weeks have been hell. I can’t remember the last time I’ve gone this long without sex. I feel like I’ve reverted back to a fourteen-year-old. The slightest touch from Charley and I’m a fucking goner.

Ey
eing her out of the corner of my gaze, I see a slight smile gracing her lips. I don’t know how long she’ll be like this: open and receptive, but I’ll take it slow. Bennett told me about their conversation last night; I know I’m walking a thin line with her and I’ll be damned if I step over the edge until she’s good and ready.

We sit in silence until the jet taxis down the runway and takes off. She’s leaning on the palm of her hand and focusing on the expanse of
pre-dawn darkness outside her window when I lean over.

“It’s always darkest
just before the dawn,” I offer quietly, knowing a girl like her would appreciate the imagery in the proverb.

After a long pause, she asks, “How long until I see the light?”