Test Shot (16 page)

He raked a hand over his hair. But this had just been the opening course. The next might involve a lot more than losing his shirt and rubbing against Kiana.

Con didn’t reply, just ushered him into his office. “You’ve done some pretty explicit shoots,” he said, walking around his desk while Sawyer grabbed his look book. “The Hix Building job, for one.”

“Twice in one day,” Sawyer said under his breath. Maybe he didn’t operate as far beneath the radar as he thought. “That was a one-time thing. A friend-of-a-friend situation. I’ve always taken my own jobs, set up my own schedule. Dealt with everything on my own.”

“Yet you applied here.”

He shrugged. “I was curious.”

“You’d stand to make a lot of money with us. I’m not guaranteeing that, of course, as any agency worth its salt would never make promises they couldn’t keep. But I suspect you’d be popular, especially if you’re open to doing the full range of projects we provide talent for.”

“Are you talking porn? I can tell you right now, I’m not interested.” Sawyer stepped back, both in his mind and in reality. “I’ll take any kinds of pictures you want. Pose in any way imaginable. But as far as actually doing a porno, no. That’s off the table.”

“Duly noted. Believe me, we do a wide range of things that have no connection whatsoever with adult entertainment. That’s our preferred term for the movies.”

“Call them nude musicals, I’m still not doing them.”

A smile twitched around Con’s mouth. “Your call. Completely. You say what jobs we send you on. And if I suggest one that doesn’t work for you, you always retain your right to refuse.”

“Good. I don’t intend to change who I am, even if I sign with you.”

“Of course not. Though sometime I’d like to hear more about your aversion to adult movies.”

“I don’t fuck just anyone. If I took money for sex—actual sex, rather than simulated—I’d feel like a whore. Not saying it’s wrong. Just saying it’s not for me.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Con steepled his fingers across his stomach. “Obviously, we like what we see with you. You’ve got a wholesome look, but not so much that you lose the fantasy factor. You’re in excellent shape. From your references, you’ve got a great work ethic. And you seem to get along well with the rest of my staff, which bodes well for how you’d deal with our customers.”

Sawyer didn’t comment. If that was a hook, he wasn’t about to open wide.

“To that end, we’re happy to provide you with materials that show some of the work we’ve done, along with a list of my clients so you can get a feel for their take on the agency.” Con handed over a bulging folder attaché case. “Take the rest of the week to review the enclosed. Make some phone calls. Talk to friends and family.”

Sawyer let out a scoff. “Yeah, my mom would be all over this job.”

“You don’t have other close family or friends? No girlfriend?”

Yep, definitely a hook. It was probably his fault for coming up with that lame cousin story, but he had precious little practice with lying. Nor did he want to develop the talent. “I’m single. My family’s back in Nebraska, as I mentioned this morning.”

“You’re new to the area, correct?”

“Five months here.”

“So’s Layla. She’s been here just about the same amount of time, actually.” Con gave him a wide, friendly smile. “But you’d already know that, since you’re cousins and all.”

“Distant cousins,” Sawyer muttered. “Real distant.”

Con chuckled. “Still. You must know her fiancé. Big-shot doctor, or at least he was. Hung up his scrubs for teaching, I’ve heard.”

Was it his imagination or had Con’s voice softened? There was something in the man’s shrapnel-sharp green eyes. Concern, maybe. Even pity.

Jesus, did
everyone
think he was in over his head with Layla? Even the ones who were pretending not to know a damn thing? “I’ve met Aidan, yes.”

“Difficult when you’re new in town. Especially a town like this, where everyone’s so into their own life. Can be hard to meet people. Sometimes you end up drifting toward the wrong ones, just to make some sort of connection.”

Sawyer’s back went from merely itchy to ramrod straight. Despite being from corn country, he wasn’t a goddamn hick. And Layla wasn’t some evil seductress about to steal his soul. She was just a lovely, lonely woman who needed someone other than her fiancé.

Right.

“I’m a good judge of character, Conrad, but thank you for the warning.”

Con arched a brow. Apparently he’d noticed Sawyer’s usage of his full first name. “Well, as I said, you’ve got time to make your decision. When you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me.” He stood and slid a silver business card across the desk. “It was good to meet you, Sawyer.”

“Thanks. You too.” He juggled his portfolio and the attaché case, finally managing to shake Con’s extended hand without dropping both. “I’ll be in touch.”

“I hope so. Have a great night.”

Sawyer walked out into the misty gray twilight. His shoulders slumped when he didn’t see Layla waiting outside. He lifted his face to the sky and closed his eyes, letting the light smattering of rain buff away the heat still scorching his cheeks. At least he wasn’t blushing externally—he’d checked—but he’d yet to shake the anxiety broiling in the pit of his stomach.

And now Layla had ditched him.

He didn’t think of himself as shy or inexperienced under normal circumstances. He’d definitely fooled around with enough girls to give him some confidence. He also wasn’t completely oblivious to how a lot of women reacted to his looks. But that didn’t help him feel less like a bumbling idiot, both at the agency and with Layla.

Con had been right to warn him. A guy like him, so slick and sure of himself, probably heard the “sucker” bell go off every time Sawyer stepped into his office.

He unlocked his Mazda and slipped inside. His stomach grumbled as he started the engine and headed down the street. The agency was less than a mile from his own modest home in Brooklyn and under two from Layla and Aidan’s townhouse. Not that he needed to go there tonight. He glanced at the rearview mirror. She’d sent a pretty clear message that—

Shit, she was following him.

A black compact sedan trailed him a little too closely. One look at the driver’s wild red hair, and he started to grin, all the knots inside him coming untied at once.

God, he wanted to be with her again. Longed to feel that sweet hot pussy tightening around his cock while her dark eyes bored into his and sucked every damn thought from his head. She took up every inch of his mental real estate, leaving no room for anything else.

When she smiled, he almost bumped the curb. She flipped on her turn signal and coasted by him before taking a right. Like a fool, he followed.

In no time, they pulled up to the street outside her townhouse. He parked behind her and clenched his fingers around the wheel. His pulse had already entered the red zone. His cock already curved against his jeans in a desperate attempt at freedom.

He managed to flash her an easy smile as they both climbed out of their cars. Even managed to amble up the walk to her stoop and wait with his fingers tucked casually in his belt loops while she fumbled with her key. Then she sent him one of those looks that melted his brain cells and murmured, “You hungry for something other than my pussy tonight?”

“Holy Christ.”

Her laughter caught him off guard. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. You were doing such an admirable Joe Cool impression, I had to mess with you.” She pushed open the door and waved for him to follow. “Want Chinese? There’s a great place a few blocks away.”

“You do realize when you start talking about sex that all other topics of conversation lose their importance, right?” He shut the door and turned to catch Layla’s impish grin. “Ah, I get it. You wanted it that way.”

She shed her black suit jacket and hung it on the coat rack. “Maybe.”

“You starved for attention in general or just mine?”

Her pause took him as much by surprise as her earlier comment. “Still figuring that out, actually.” She did some quick flip thing with her hair, tucking it up and back so that only a few strategic curls escaped. “So, Chinese?”

“Do I get pussy before or after?”

She grinned again and held out her hand. He took it, and they walked down the hall to the kitchen. “What’s your favorite kind?”

“Yours worked just fine for me, far as I remember. Though I’d have to give it another test run to be sure.”

“I meant Chinese food. God.” She turned on the lights and opened one of the drawers in the center butcher-block island. A narrow copper urn of fall mums cheered up the rather antiseptic space. The oranges, reds, and golds lent the only color to the room.

Well, other than Layla. She brightened up every place she went with that flame-red hair of hers. And her smile. And those beautiful brown eyes, so deep and thoughtful. Always thinking, she was. No matter how she tried to pretend otherwise.

“I’m never using that word around you again.” She sorted through a stack of menus. “Now you’re obsessed.”

“You’re the kind of woman a man could easily build an obsession around.”

She jerked up her chin. “You’re already going to get lucky tonight. No need to flatter me.”

Normally he would’ve chuckled at her utter cluelessness to her own beauty. Instead he leaned down to inhale a deep breath of her hair. Rain, grapefruit, and soap.
Layla.

“Your fruit’s wet,” he said, stroking the inlaid grapes on the barrette holding back her mass of curls.

“How’d you guess?”

Her breathlessness made him smile. “Why the hell do I like you so much, Layla Palmer?”

Ignoring his question, she gestured at the menu she held. “Pork lo mein?”

“That’s why I like you so much?”

“Egg rolls. Chicken fried rice. Sesame beef. Stop me when I get warm.”

Apparently she had no intention of touching his comment. He supposed he didn’t blame her. This couldn’t go anywhere, so why bother? Better to enjoy what they had than to dwell on what they didn’t.

“Sweet and sour pork for me. Three eggrolls. And hmm.” He snatched the menu with one hand and rubbed her hip with the other. “Almond cookies.”

“I have way better cookies than that.” She darted to the cupboard and dragged out not one, not two, but three unopened boxes of Girl Scout cookies. “I’ve been saving them for a special occasion.”

He propped his hands behind him on the island and cocked his head. “This counts?”

“We’re making it count.” She carried her cookies to the counter and frowned. “Hey, you didn’t bring in your stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Con must’ve given you things to look at from the agency. He never forgets, unlike me.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “Did you look at any of it yet?”

“No.”

“I want to see what he gave you. It’s always interesting.” She waggled her brows and grabbed the cordless phone. “How about I order the food, and you go get it?”

“Sure. But isn’t it mostly magazines and book covers and stuff like that?”

Her lip twitch made him distinctly nervous. “Never know with Con. He has a quirky sense of humor.”

Sawyer shrugged as she started to punch in numbers. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

When he returned, she wasn’t in the kitchen. Or the living room or dining room. “I’m upstairs,” she called just as he reached the foyer again.

He found her lounging on the bed in the master bedroom, surrounded by cookies. She’d opened all three boxes. “I figured we could have some of each,” she said, biting into what looked to be a Thin Mint.

Damn, she looked so sexy with her skirt hiked up her shapely thighs. Toes wiggling, smile glimmering. “You’re going to spoil your dinner.”

“So? That means there’ll be some left for a midnight snack,” she said when he set down the expandable folder and sat beside her. “In the meantime, we have cookies. Ooh!” She grabbed the folder and pried it open, scattering cookie crumbs everywhere.

He laughed. “How do you and Aidan live together? Does he keep a DustBuster under the bed?”

She flushed. “I don’t normally eat cookies in here. He kind of freaks.”

“I can’t imagine that. At all,” he said with mock seriousness when she slanted him a look.

“He doesn’t boss me around all the time. Our relationship isn’t like that, no matter what it seemed like the first night.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He doesn’t. We…well, we started experimenting a couple years ago. He discovered how much he likes to be in control.”

“You don’t say.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s never forced me to do anything. That’s the thing about us. He knows what I want, what I need, even when I can’t admit it to myself.”

He picked up the box of Samoas and pried one out of the tray. “I saw this book on TV. It’s making the rounds on all the talk shows. About this woman who falls for this guy who leads her around and tells her what to do all the time, but she supposedly likes it. A submissive, they called her. Women have gone nuts for this book. Think they all want to run out and get a guy who’ll tell them they can’t come unless he decrees otherwise.”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions based on one night of interaction. He wasn’t like that on Sunday.”

“Even snakes occasionally curl up around rocks. Doesn’t make their bite hurt any less.”

“Are you asking if I’m submissive?”

He didn’t really know the terminology, but submissive worked. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I like making him happy,” she said quietly, after a few moments. “The hotter he gets, the hotter it makes me. We’re that connected.”

Sawyer said nothing. What could he say? That every word she said about Aidan jabbed little pins into his gut? There was no reason for him to feel that way. He barely knew Layla and vice versa. Gut feelings and an insta-attraction didn’t mean anything. She’d been looking for a guy to fuck her to get her and her fiancé off. He’d been looking for…

Connection, just as Con had said. And there was that damn word again.

“But I don’t think I’m a submissive. Not deep down.” She nibbled a cookie. “I like playacting though. Good thing, because Aidan would never let me take charge in bed. Just not his thing.”