Fierce Pride (25 page)

“I wish I hadn’t hurt my knee. I’m usually far better coordinated.”

He grabbed hold of the headboard to stand and tried to slide his shorts over his brace. “It’s easier to dress than undress, but it’s my fault for not being ready when you came in.”

She moved off the other side of the bed, untied the ribbon ties on her negligee and draped it over the end of the bed as she circled it. She knelt in front of Santos. “I’m in a generous mood, so I’ll help you after all.” She took hold of the waistband, but rather than work the shorts over the brace, she pulled his hips close and drew the tip of his already hard cock into her mouth.

He sucked in a startled breath and sank down on the side of the bed. “I couldn’t afford a valet like you anyway.”

“No one could.” She licked him and rubbed her knuckle against the sensitive spot behind his balls. “Do you like this?” Waiting for his answer, she took him deep into her mouth and swirled her tongue around him.

“Ah…”

“I’ll take that for a yes.” She took care not to touch his right leg but propped her elbow on his left knee. The man drew her close without even trying. His intoxicating scent made her want to lick its source, and she slid her tongue across his navel. “Your cologne ought to have a taste, something honey smooth and yet masculine.”

“God, Libby, have some pity on me, or I’ll lose it.”

She smiled slyly, and while she was tempted to push him, she smoothed a tender touch over his balls and stood. “You’ve already threatened not to write a recommendation, so I don’t dare push my luck.”

He caught her wrist. “Good, because I’m going to push mine.” He drew her up on the bed and rolled her onto her left side. He found a condom in the drawer and yanked it on. Turning on his left side to lie behind her, he wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her bottom close and eased into her slowly.

She laced her fingers in his and dipped his hand under the nightgown to rest between her legs. His breathing was already hoarse and shallow, he was so close, but she wanted to go with him. Each time he surged into her, she rolled his fingertips over her clit. He filled her fully, and she wiggled her butt against him to take him deeper. He pulled his fingers free to pleasure her, and her legs stiffened as he stroked to make her come before he did. A scorching bliss shot through her, and she gasped a mouthful of air to make it last. A glorious ache hummed from deep within and left her too limp to even murmur a soft hum of praise.

A long moment passed before he pulled out, and he kept her cuddled close. She gripped his hand, and closed her eyes, too relaxed to do more than float on the bed. The heat still flowed between them, an electric coil wrapping tighter each time they were together. Sex had never been like this for her. She’d satisfied her curiosity but hadn’t discovered the truth of what it was supposed to be. Now she was spoiled, and no other man would ever compare to Santos Aragon.

“Libby? I’m sorry, I used to be good at this, but with this damn brace…”

She sat up and shoved her hair out of her eyes. “Don’t you dare apologize. If all you want is compliments, then fine, you’re a terrific lover, all any woman would ever want. Just don’t spoil it with needless apologies.” She flopped back down on the bed and lay curled against him.

“I’m disappointed in myself, Libby, not you.” He stroked her hair and whispered, “You have such a wild spirit, it’s no wonder you love to run.” He hugged her tighter. “I don’t want anyone to hurt you.”

She didn’t need to be looked after. “Let’s just go to sleep.”

He moved to lie on his back and drew in a deep breath.

She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings and now felt she owned him an apology. “You’re the best, Santos. You even have handsome feet. Some guys’ feet are as hairy as a Hobbit’s.”

He laughed so loud he would have awakened everyone in the house, had there been anyone else. “You always surprise me. I’m so grateful I don’t have Hobbit-like feet. I suppose I’d have to wax them.”

“There’s another business opportunity that’s been overlooked.”

Santos rose up to kiss her. “You want some ice cream?”

She stroked his cheek. “Yes, but I’ll force you to work off the calories.”

He rested his forehead on hers. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Chapter Eleven

Tuesday morning, Manuel drove Santos’s SUV to the advertising firm. Santos still sat in the front where he could stretch out his leg, and Libby sat alone in the back. She wore the lime-green outfit she’d bought for the wedding and expected to stay out of everyone’s way. Santos had dressed in a black polo shirt and the khaki shorts which fit over his brace. He looked preoccupied rather than eager to model.

The advertising firm’s name was posted in chrome letters on the front of a stark modern building. A petite woman with red-framed glasses met them at the door and introduced herself as Denise. She pointed out posters in the lobby as examples of their commercial work, but Libby recognized none of the products advertised. The photo studio was on the second floor, and as they entered the elevator, Santos winked at her. She knew exactly what he was thinking and nodded to make certain he noticed the camera above the control panel.

The photographer welcomed them to his studio with a wide smile. He had a neatly trimmed beard and was dressed in black. “I’m Armand, and I’m so happy to meet you. I’ve seen you fight numerous times and am in awe of your superb talent.”

“Thank you,” Santos responded. “I doubt I have much in the way of talent for what you have planned today. This is Miss Gunderson, a sister of my sister, Magdalena Mondragon.”

Armand looked perplexed for a moment and then broke into a wide smile. “I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Gunderson. Denise and Roberto have the sketches,” he explained. “Come look, and you’ll see what we’re after with this campaign.”

Roberto was tall with blond hair worn in a ponytail. His bright yellow shoes went perfectly with his red shirt and jeans. “We are beginning with print ads in all the popular magazines. Videos may come later. What we’re after today is a mystical look. We’ll dress you in black, with a dark background, so just your face and hands will show.”

Ana Santillan rushed into the studio. “Traffic, sorry.”

“Why is she here?” Santos asked.

Armand gestured for the model to come close. “We want a variety of shots. Some with you alone, Santos, and some with Ana to show the cologne’s appeal for women.”

“I won’t pose with her,” Santos stated firmly. His voice was low, fervent, without being combative.

Ana rested her hands on her hips. “This is work, Santos. Nothing personal has to enter into it.”

Wanting no part of their argument, Libby edged back slowly. She’d seen Ana in magazines, gotten a glimpse of her at the bull fight, but this close, the model was even more beautiful. She had a flawless complexion, her hair fell past her waist in golden waves, and her slim figure had curves where they were supposed to be. She was dressed in a pale green silk shirt, skintight back leather pants and black stiletto heels. Other than her tooled leather handbag, her only accessory was a huge pink diamond ring on her right hand. She looked pulled together in a way Libby never even approached.

Armand waved a hand. “Please, there’s no reason to argue if we all regard this morning as a job to be done.”

“Fine,” Santos replied. “Do it without me. Stick a bottle of the cologne in Ana’s hand and call it the ad.”

“No, no, no,” Armand stressed. “Aragon cologne has your father’s signature on the label. He insisted you do the ads when he was unable to fulfill his obligation.”

“He’s dead,” Santos reminded him.

Armand pulled Santos aside and whispered, “He was paid one million euros for the campaign. It would dishonor his memory to refuse to pose, and there will be a tedious lawsuit for the return of what he was paid.”

Santos gritted his teeth. “Fine, I’ll do it, but I will not be photographed with Ana. Do I make myself clear? If you want a lovely blonde, I’ll be happy to pose with Miss Gunderson, or you could put Roberto in a dress and shoot from the back.”

Roberto laughed, but he didn’t appear horrified by the idea. Ana held out her hand palm up. “I was hired for the day. You know my rate, Armand, and I’m not leaving without being paid.”

Armand looked between Santos and Ana, and his shoulders sagged as he gave in to both. “Denise, please take care of Miss Santillan. I’m so sorry, Ana. I believe we’re scheduled to work together again next week.”

Ana left without commenting, and Denise sent a frantic glance over her shoulder. Libby didn’t move. She was such a poor substitute for Ana, she couldn’t believe Santos had even suggested it. The fiery way they’d reacted to each other told an even more troubling story. “I doubt I’d photograph nearly as well.”

“That isn’t the issue,” Santos pointed out curtly. He lowered his voice so only she would hear. “I won’t be in an arena for months, so I can’t return what my father was paid. Please do this for me.”

Libby understood she was trapped and had no choice, but she wasn’t Ana Santillan, and apparently that was all that mattered to him. That she might be horribly embarrassed was beside the point. “What do you want me to do?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll turn you into a goddess,” Armand promised. “We’ll begin with hair and makeup. Teresa, Miss Gunderson should fit in the clothes and shoes we had for Ana.”

Teresa, the makeup artist, was a striking gray-haired woman who spoke little English. Libby couldn’t respond to her questions posed in Spanish. She sat quietly in the makeup chair and tried to hold still.

Teresa curled her hair with a curling iron, pinned the curls in place and went to work on her makeup. She applied a light foundation and blush. Libby had long lashes and did wear mascara, but not nearly enough to satisfy Teresa. She added several additional layers, a smoky green eye shadow, and darkened Libby’s eyebrows. Then she gestured for Libby to stand and drew her over to a rack of clothes, all slinky black.

It hadn’t occurred to Libby that she and Ana were the same size, but the halter dress she was given fit perfectly. The platform heels also fit, but she had to practice walking in them. Teresa had her return to the makeup chair to remove the pins from her hair and brushed it into a bouncy head of curls. She sprayed it quickly, before a single curl could fall out of place. A glance in the mirror startled Libby. She hadn’t expected such a remarkable change in her appearance. The bright red lipstick was the cherry on the cake. Her own mother wouldn’t recognize her now. She was so eager to scrub it all off, she doubted she’d become Europe’s next hot model.

Armand had already begun photographing Santos in a long-sleeved black silk shirt. Santos had kept on his shorts, but, seated on a stool, he was being photographed from the waist up. The lighting made his black hair glow, while his features were handsomely shaded. Libby licked her lips and tasted the cinnamon-flavored lipstick. When Armand looked around for her, she stepped forward.

“What do you think?” she asked Santos. When his mouth fell agape, she took it as a sign of approval. “I’d no idea I looked so homely to begin with.”

Armand laughed. “My dear, you are a natural beauty. Teresa has merely enhanced what you already possess. Now let’s change the seating to the bench. Can you straddle it, Santos? Miss Gunderson should sit facing left.”

Santos moved to the bench Roberto pulled in, and took Libby’s hand as she took her place in front of him. “I want my own photos of this,” he called to Armand.

“I’ll be happy to provide a whole set for both of you.” The photographer kept one eye on a computer screen as he adjusted their poses for the camera. “I want you in profile, Miss Gunderson.”

“Please call me Libby,” she answered as she followed his directions. They changed poses often, but Santos kept her pulled close. The lights were hot, and she hoped her makeup didn’t drip off into her lap, and it was difficult not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. She’d played minor parts in a couple of high school plays, but she’d never had to pretend to be a super model. She tried to look sexy and seductive on cue, but it was a nearly impossible challenge. Armand kept exclaiming on how beautiful she and Santos looked together, but she was merely a stand-in, and Ana would have known how to pout and bend her knee just so. She was completely worn out by the time Armand gave them a short break.

“Let’s try something new. Put your left leg over Santos’s and pull the hem of your dress up to show off your legs.”

Legs Libby could do, for days. “Like this?”

Armand swallowed hard. “Perfect.” He took several shots and then pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Let’s have you straddle the bench now and pull up your skirt to again accent your beautiful legs. Roberto, where’s the cologne? I want you to hold the bottle, place it on the bench in front of you. Good, I want a few with both of you looking into the camera.”

Santos tickled her to make her laugh, and Armand snapped photos quickly to catch it. “No one can laugh on cue, but that was delightful. Now let’s take a look at what we’ve done this morning.”

Santos took a chair in front of the computer, and Libby leaned over his shoulder. “Santos looks so damn good alone, you don’t need me.”

Santos had a different concern. “I look more like my father than he did. Was that your intention, Armand?”

The photographer raised his hands. “You do resemble your father. I couldn’t hide it if I wished to. You’ll be pleased with the campaign, I’m sure of it. Now let’s look at the rest.”