Picture Perfect

Picture Perfect

By Deena Remiel

Kindle Edition

Copyright ©2011 by Deena Remiel

Picture Perfect
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher and/or author, except for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.

Dedication

To Jimmy Thomas, and all the beautiful models who grace our covers

Chapter One

“Stay right there! Don’t move! I gotta change the lighting real fast.”

No problem. I always like a woman’s firm breast smashed against my lips for extended periods of time.
  Jamie, the consummate professional, had felt the breasts of hundreds of women on his face, his lips, and in his hands during his successful modeling career. Today was no different. Except for one tiny difference. The model whose breast was gracing his lips wanted it there, not so much for the exquisite photo it would provide, but for herself. He sighed inwardly. How many times would he have to tell Brittany that they were just friends, that the poses were strictly business? It was a mixed blessing that they took such amazing shots together. It was like they knew exactly how to move together as one, giving the photographer what he wanted- sensuality that was over the top. But when the camera stopped clicking, it was over. For Jamie. Apparently, Brittany kept losing that memo.

“All right, got it. Now you can move. Really heighten the sensuality now.” The photographer turned up the volume on his iPod as Chris Isaak crooned Wicked Game and sent erotic vibes throughout the hotel room.

Jamie lost himself in the passionate play, raking seeking fingers through Brittany’s hair and licking her neck to earlobe. Brittany gave him a tempting stare, moaned and arched back, giving him full reign over her body. He leaned forward, resting his head on her breasts and closed his eyes. He trailed his hands down her waist to her panties and tugged.

“Hold it! Changing position!”

“I can’t hold it, Bill! My back is killing me!” She crumpled all the way to the mattress. “I need a break. Can we break for ten minutes, sugar?”

“Bill, take ten.” The photographer nodded, set down the camera, and left the hotel room. “Go ahead and relax, Brit. I have a phone call to make anyway.”

“I thought maybe we could relax together, you know?” She raised her arms and grabbed Jamie on top of her. “Release some of this extra tension and energy.”

“Brittany, I….” He raised himself off of her. “I thought we had an understanding.”

“Oh, you’re no fun at all.” She got up on her knees and played with the waistband of her panties. “I know you want me, James. You always want me. You just like to play hard to get.”

She pushed her breasts against his chest. He gently but firmly grabbed her shoulders and pushed her off. “Save it for the camera, honey, okay?”

“You’re seriously not going to take me up on my offer?”

“I didn’t the first time you offered, or the second. And I’m not going to now. We’ve got a great business relationship, Brit. For the camera
only
. Let’s keep it that way.” He hated to have to say this over and over again, but she played thick as a brick.

She pouted, sulked, and got off the bed. He watched as she picked up her jeans and squeezed herself into each pant leg. She snatched her shirt from the bureau.

“Uh , what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m leaving.” She thrust her head through the neck of the t-shirt, pulled it down, and walked out of the bedroom part of the suite.

Jamie jumped off the bed and hurried after her in his boxers. “What are you talking about? We still have three more hours to shoot. That’s what I contracted the photographer for. You can’t just walk out on me like this.”

She walked to the door, turned, and glared at him. “Watch me.”

“You’re backing out on me just because I won’t screw you? Seriously?”

“When you figure out that we are meant to be together behind the camera as well as in front, you can call me. Maybe I’ll be around. But, I’m done with you and your mixed messages.” She opened the door and stormed out leaving Jamie standing in the middle of the room, scratching his head in amazement.

The photographer walked back, bringing with him the acrid stench of smoke. “Where’s your model going in such a huff?”

“Home. It’s just you and me for the rest of our time, Bill. I could use some more solo shots anyway.” He shook his head and shook off his frustration. “Let’s shoot some in the Jacuzzi, and some against that wall, and maybe some in the bed with me sleeping.”

“Sure. Your dime, my friend.”

As the shoot progressed he kept reviewing what happened with Brittany. The same thing that happened with Annalise and Finola and…the list went on. Women! They always got caught up in the fantasy of the shoot, allowing their emotions to accept that what they were doing for the camera, they were doing for real. He’d have to look into a new batch of models in the morning.

***

The Harley rumbled beneath him like a possessed demon horse, and when he arrived at his rented beach house around midnight, he parked it and headed straight for the shoreline. The Pacific Ocean had a way of calming his spirit and bringing clarity to any situation. He kicked off his shoes and dug his toes into the cool sand. The moon shone brightly over the relatively quiet ocean, making millions of glittering stars appear on its surface. He’d turned melancholy and disquieted on the way back home. He loved his modeling business. He’d been doing it for so many years now, and it had become quite a lucrative endeavor. But it had its costs. If the models weren’t throwing a hissy fit over their unrequited love, the ladies he dated turned into jealous, neurotic freaks whenever he discussed a shoot or showed them photos of his romance novel covers.

He sighed, flexed his legs, and leaned back on his elbows in the sand. The model problem he could handle. There were tons more of them who he could ask to join him for a photo shoot. The real issue, the one that had been eating him up inside, continued to be a sore spot on his heart.

Jamie yearned for love, real love, the kind of love portrayed on the thousands of covers he graced.

Where’s that special woman who can understand the nature of what I do? How I make it seem as if I’m having sex, but it’s just business and nothing more?
He’d run out of ideas as to where to find her. He snickered at the rolling waves, creeping up on him, teasing him, and pulling away. Just like the woman he dreamed of. There had been a couple who could stand what part of his job entailed, for a little while. But as usual, they broke away and backed off, their own insecurities getting the better of them. Tired, physically and emotionally, he drug himself off the beach, shoes slung over his shoulder, and passed out on the chaise lounge sitting on the back porch, clothes still on.

Chapter Two

A sunrise at land’s end. Nothing better to symbolize a new beginning, a fresh start.
Hope figured by greeting the day together with the sun, she upped her chances of making today a great day. Lord, but she needed one. At thirty-three years of age, she’d been through it all—marriage, divorce, dreams realized and quashed, and now, unemployment.
Today’s my birthday, and by God, I’ll make sure it starts out on the right foot.
The sun hadn’t quite risen yet, so she meandered along the beach waiting for the first peek of color to wash across the horizon.
And there it is
. She sighed.

“Ow! Son of a bitch!” What the hell had she stepped on? Bending over, she looked down to find a large shard of a shell sticking up out of the sand.
Damn it!
She picked up her right foot to inspect it and immediately saw droplets of her blood soaking into the sand.
Well, isn’t this just grand?
So much for starting out on the right foot.
The cut on her sole bled profusely, and she wasn’t quite sure how to staunch it other than cover it with her shirt. Thank goodness she’d worn a bathing suit underneath her clothes. But how to get back to her house?  She snorted.
Good question Hope. Now what’s the answer?

She looked around for anyone that might be as crazy as she for coming out so early, but not a soul joined her.
Great. Now what?
Her foot throbbed in rhythm with her heart. She needed to get her foot washed, bandaged, and up in the air quick. She looked around again, this time to see how close any of the beach houses were that dotted past the dunes. The one nearest had sea green shingles and a white wrap around porch. It had a very non-assuming and friendly look. She’d been judged by the book covers she created, so she figured the house may very well be a good reflection of its owner.

Hobbling through the sand and up the dunes gave her quite a workout. Every step she took made her wince and left a little token of her affection for the sea, a bloody footprint. Her once white tank top now boasted a horrid shade of deep red. She reached the apex of the sand hill and saw the silhouette of a person sitting on the porch.