Final Call (The Call #2) (23 page)

“No…. Jesus, Derrick, I
said no…. Working with them last time was less than desirable...
Set up a meeting if we must, but the probability of a contract is
next to fucking nothing.” Aaron sighs. “You’ll have to speak with
Dottie. She has my schedule on hand… No, she won’t be in the office
for another hour… I’m positive Mr. Dawson won’t combust if he
doesn’t have an answer within the next ten minutes. Call him back
and tell him you’ll touch base during office hours… That’s my final
say on the matter, yes. I’ll see you later.” He throws his cell
across the room, and it bounces off the sofa and onto the floor.
“Fucking incompetent bastard. Who calls their boss at eight in the
morning unless it’s life or death?”

My lips curve, and I
lift my coffee mug. My eyes roam shamelessly over his exposed body,
and if the spark in Aaron’s eyes is anything to go by, he’s caught
it.

“Like what you
see?”

“Do you?” I meet his
gaze and flick the collar of one of his shirts.

“I’m not sure. I can’t
see all of you.”

I tilt my head to one
side and put my mug down, standing slowly. His eyes darken as they
coast over my body the way mine just did his, and he clenches one
hand into a fist when he realizes I’m wearing nothing beneath the
shirt.

“Is this going to be a
habit, Dayton?”

“Is what going to be a
habit? My being up early enough to see you off to work?” I raise an
eyebrow. “I wouldn’t count on it, baby. I don’t do mornings.”

He leans across the
bar, wrapping his hand around my neck, and pulls me into him. “Oh,
I know you don’t. You’re a little night owl. Do you know how
exhausted I am?”

“Perhaps you should
reconsider changing your schedule. A ten a.m. start may be more
fitting for your current lifestyle.”

“The lifestyle in which
I take you to our bed every night and fuck you until you see
black?”

A spark of red-hot lust
shoots through my pussy, dissipating into a heavy ache at his
words. “Or we could go with the one in which I flip you onto your
back and fuck
you
until
you
see black—like I did last
night.”

A growl rumbles deep in
Aaron’s throat. “Are you trying to send me to work with a raging
hard-on?”

“Are you going to be
going with one?”

“Unless I lift you onto
this counter and sink inside you and make you come in ten minutes,
yes, I am.” He buttons his shirt slowly, his eyes never leaving
mine.

I shake my head with a
rueful smile. “Not going to happen. I’m actually rather offended at
the idea that you’ll come in ten minutes of sex with me. That’s a
hit to my ego, you know? I know for a fact I can work you for
longer than that.”

“Dayton, sweetheart.”
Aaron rounds the bar and slips between my legs on the stool.
“That’s not an insult. It’s a compliment. You’re so fucking sexy
you’re lucky I don’t come the second I slide inside you.”

“You’re lucky you
don’t, you mean.” I grab either side of his tie and knot it for
him. “If you did, I’d be really fucking mad you denied me of an
orgasm.”

“Trust me, if that ever
happens—which it won’t—I’ll slide down your body and taste you
until you come several times over to make up for my
incompetence.”

The thought of Aaron
being incompetent in the bedroom is seriously laughable.

I flatten his collar
over the neck of tie and pat it down, making sure his tie is
perfect. “I’ll remember that.”

He threads his fingers
into his hair. “Look at you, dressing me. Can I count on that being
a rarity, Miss Black? I much prefer the alternative.”

“Dressing yourself?
There’s no fun in that.”

His lips curl in the
smirk that always gets me, the one that sets a dangerous spark off
in his eyes and tightens my muscles. “I can safely say getting
dressed is the least favorite part of my day. Especially since you
moved in.”

“Since I was forced
to,” I correct him, lightly pushing on his chest. He straightens,
his mouth twisting in annoyance. “Oh, don’t pull that with me. We
both know I had no choice in the matter. I chewed your ass out and
now I’m all good with it. Kind of. Sort of.”

Aaron takes my coffee
and finishes it.
Bastard.
“Lose one of the sugars. Makes the
coffee taste funny.”

“You know, there’s a
reason I made two mugs. One for me and one for you.”

He glances over my
shoulder to the coffee machine and winces when he sees the second
mug. “Dammit. Still, lose the sugar. I prefer stealing yours.”

Of course he does. Why
would he have his own when he can just steal mine? He obviously
thinks I make it for shits and giggles. I don’t. Coffee is serious
stuff.

“I’m going to start
making myself two mugs every morning so that when you steal one, I
still have one for myself.”

“You do that,
sweetheart.” He kisses me softly. “I have to go to work. What are
you doing today?”

I shrug a shoulder.
“Probably the same thing I’ve done for the last few days. Not very
much.”

Guilt flashes in his
eyes for half a second. “Why don’t you call Liv?”

“She’s working.”

“You’ll think of
something, I’m sure. I’d invite you to come into the office with
me, but I can guarantee I wouldn’t get a great deal of work done.”
He flicks his eyes to the space between my breasts that’s exposed
by the open front of his shirt. “Make that none.”

“Go to work before I
suddenly make plans for my day and call you in sick,” I warn,
seeing the heat clouding his eyes.

Aaron smirks, pulling
me into him again and sweeping his lips across mine. “I fail to see
how that sentence is supposed to convince me to leave you here
alone.”

I kiss him hard and
shove him off me, standing. “Go before I make good on my
threat.”

“You drive a hard
bargain.” He slaps my ass and grabs his jacket. “Behave yourself,
and no DIY orgasms.”

I gasp, turning and
walking backward toward the bathroom. “How did you know what I was
thinking?”

He winks and disappears
out the door. A smile curves my lips. All the bullshit aside, being
with him is so easy. Living with him is so easy.

His blue eyes are the
first and last things I see every day. His arms around me is the
first and last thing I feel every day. His voice is the first and
last thing I hear.

If it weren’t for the
bullshit simmering beneath the surface courtesy of his ex, this
would be pretty much perfect right now.

If perfect existed,
that is. It doesn’t, but true love is the closest thing you’ll get
to perfect. And despite everything, all the fights and the time
that’s passed, I know this is true love.

Nothing but true love
can make you feel as if you’re walking on air, even during the bad
shit.

I shrug off his shirt,
drop it in the laundry basket, and run naked back to the second
bedroom. My lingerie room. My fingers brush across the endless
fabric until my eyes fall on that turquoise bra I fell in love with
in London.

Briefly, I glance at
the red outfit Aaron loves. I discard the thought just as
quickly.

I have no idea what his
response will be when he finds out that Tyler is taking my
portfolio shots, but I bet it won’t be pretty if I wear that
one.

No, I’ll leave that for
another day.

I grab some black
panties, slide them up my legs, then slip into the bra. My lips
curve at my stupidly when I stand in front of the mirror and jiggle
my boobs in the cups to make them sit right.
Inside-bra-boob-adjusting: necessary but idiotic, and something
every woman does.

A knock sounds at the
door as I tie the belt of my robe, and I cross the apartment to
answer it. I open the door to Tyler, and he ruffles his hair and
grins.

“I’m still amazed
you’re up.”

“Shut up.” I step to
the side and let him in. “Coffee?”

“Tea, thanks. You can
keep your bloody coffee.” He hangs his jacket on the hooks in the
hall and follows me into the kitchen, looking around. “I see you’ve
added some femininity to this place.”

“Believe me, it was by
force,” I reply dryly and hand him his tea. “Here.”

“Thanks. Did you tell
him yet?”

I shake my head and
lead him into the front room. I sink onto the sofa and tuck my legs
beneath me. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Oh, hey, baby, I forgot to
tell you that your conniving, gold-digging bitch-whore of an
ex-wife dropped by my place three weeks ago and threatened me
unless I pay her two and a half million’?”

“It pretty much sums it
up.” A smile teases his lips, and I smack him with a throw pillow,
narrowly missing his tea.

“It’s just so good
right now, like we’re finally where we’re supposed to be, and I’m
scared it’ll ruin everything. I know I have to though. I think
she’s keeping tabs on me.”

Tyler looks at me, a
frown marring his features. “What do you mean, keeping tabs on
you?”

“It’s totally
irrational, but when I went home the day after we left London,
there was a letter from her in my mail. All it said was, ‘Tick
tock.’ I bet she knew I wasn’t home. There was no postmark and it
was handwritten. And it was sitting on top of the pile. It had only
just been delivered.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t
a couple of days old?”

I shake my head. “No.
The mailman had already been by when I went back to my house. It
was definitely delivered that day.”

He runs his fingers
over his lips, looking away thoughtfully. “That was what, a few
days ago now?”

“Yep. And now there’s
only one week until she’ll go to the press with who I am.”

“She might be
bluffing.”

The look he gives me
tells me that even he knows it’s farfetched.

“No. She’ll go, and
she’ll expose me, and she’ll get paid a stupid amount of money for
breaking the story about the whore Aaron Stone is dating.”

Now he hits me with a
pillow. “Don’t call yourself that. You’re not a whore.”

I smile wryly. “Maybe
not now. I was though. Don’t argue with me, Ty,” I add when he
opens his mouth again. “I’m not sugarcoating shit. You’re one of
the few people who know what I did for a living, so please don’t
wrap it in fluffy crap either. It’s the blunt and ugly reality of
my existence. It’s who I was. I’m not ashamed of it, but I’m
ashamed of the fact it could destroy Stone.”

“Stone is a huge
company, Dayton, and even if your past got out, it would take a lot
to bring it down.”

“A lot Naomi could do.
I don’t know her half as well as you do, yet you’re the one
underestimating what she could do. She won’t stop until she’s
destroyed the company and exposed every last one of my skeletons
all because she wants to get to Aaron.”

“You really think Aaron
will let that happen?” Tyler puts his mug on the table and shifts
to face me. “Aaron will protect you as fiercely as he’ll protect
the company, maybe even more so. You have to tell him.”

“I know.” I run my
fingers through my hair and sigh, resting my elbow on the back of
the sofa. “I just… I gave him such a hard time about keeping her a
secret and now I’m doing the exact same thing. That makes me a
raging bitch, Ty.”

“No. It makes you
someone who’s afraid of hurting the person you love. Just like he
was.”

I swallow. “I guess
you’re right. I have a week left and no idea how I’m supposed to
pay her off, so I don’t have a choice. I’ll tell him when he gets
back from work tonight.”

He reaches over and
squeezes my knee. “Good choice. Now, let’s go shoot you and put
together some shit-hot pictures that’ll get you a superstar
agent.”

I watch as he grabs his
bag and stand. “Doesn’t it make you feel awkward, shooting your
cousin’s girlfriend?”

“Do you feel awkward
with me doing it?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Then don’t think of me
as that. You won’t see my face anyway. I’ll be behind a camera.
Pretend you don’t know me and this will be fine.” He points to the
canvas on the bedroom wall. “See that? You’re a natural. Now take
off that robe and let’s get to work.”

***

I don’t know if I’ll
ever get used to looking at pictures of myself. If I’ll ever accept
myself the way the camera sees it.

And it’s not even
confidence. It’s…strange. Twenty-four is an old age to get into
modeling—okay, so I’m three days away from twenty-five, but let’s
not think about that right now—but I don’t look twenty-four. I’ve
always looked a couple of years younger, and right now, that’s
something that could work in my favor.

“I don’t know why you
didn’t do this before.”

“Because it wasn’t my
thing. It still isn’t, I don’t think.” I swipe my finger across the
laptop screen and the picture flicks to the next one. I’m kneeling
on the bed, my back to the camera, and my robe is sliding off my
shoulder. I’m glancing over it and looking down, and I kind of get
it.

I can do sexy pretty
well. I’m just used to sexy-between-the-sheets.

“These are brilliant.
At least the ones after you killed your giggles are.”

I laugh again at the
memory. So the awkwardness was more awkward than I’d anticipated,
and I spent the first hour in and out of random fits of giggles.
There are a few shots of me laughing in various positions, and
they’re probably my favorites because of how natural they are.

“Can I see those
again?” I ask.

Tyler nods and taps the
screen a few times. We sectioned them off and went through the
images in batches, and when the folder comes up, I smile. I flick
through them to find my favorite.

My knees are bent and
I’m leaning forward, laughing. One hand is on my thigh and the
other is curved around the neck of my robe and it’s tugging it
down, exposing my bra on one side.

“Can you edit this and
print it?” My cheeks flush a little. “I mean…”