Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Get him, girl,” Molly calls after me.
Uh, maybe I should’ve asked what he needed first?
As Tobias runs with me down the hall, I send a silent prayer of thanks for my flats today. If I were in heels, I would’ve busted it on this tile floor. Hell, I might still fall in the flats with as fast as Tobias is hustling.
“Did you know ferrets can get the flu?” He keeps running, keeps talking, not letting me answer. But no, I did not know that ferret flu is a real thing. “It’s a big deal because it’s a working ferret, so he’s got to get healthy.”
“I’m sorry, did you say a ‘working ferret’?”
Tobias laughs at my confusion. “I didn’t know either. He’s trained to run cables through walls. They cut a hole for him to start and one where he needs to exit. Release him inside, and then use a little clicker at the exit, and he’ll go along until he gets there.”
I blink, not sure if he’s fucking with me. His expression is earnest, but seriously?
“Well, I hope he’s okay.” It seems like the safest response. “So do you need me to run cables?” It’s all I can think of based on whatever he’s talking about.
Tobias blinks, looking at me like I’m the one not making any sense. “No. Simon is doing a photo shoot today for our men’s line. He’s doing the wardrobe selections, but we need someone with a keen eye to examine the photos as they’re being shot for feedback. And the sick ferret belongs to the director. You’re replacing her.”
Tobias stops in front of a door, and dumbfounded, I ask, “What? Why can’t Simon do that?”
“Silly, he’s the model today. It’d take too long for him to go back and forth from posing to the preview screen. Don’t even worry about it. You’ll probably just be observing and that’s all.”
Tobias opens the door, leaving me shocked and my jaw hanging to the floor.
I want to run the other way, back to the workroom, back to my apartment. Hell, maybe back to New York.
Sure, doing director work on a photo shoot is a dream come true, but with Simon? There’s a chance this could turn into career suicide.
I need to stay away from him and keep things professional, not kiss him again, and definitely, undoubtedly, not think about fucking him in the bathroom of a club. Or anywhere else.
Like the desk he’s perched on right now. He’s wearing a sharp black suit, a crisp white shirt open at the collar, and black-rimmed glasses. And when he sees me, he smirks victoriously as if he knew I’d be the designer to come.
Shit! I’m in trouble here, and not only because I’ve never done fashion director work. But because that confident smirk is sexy as fuck.
“Autumn, thank goodness you came. I need you.”
Is he for real?
On second thought, if this is a dream . . . do not wake me up!
CHAPTER 9
SIMON
“Thank you for coming,” I say invitingly. “Tobias tell you about our situation?”
“Uh . . . yes. The ferret is sick? And you need me to be director?” She answers politely and formally, her hands clasped in front of her and her back stick straight.
Ah, the chase continues. At the club, I had considered it a bit of cat and mouse, but with Autumn’s flaming hair and elegant grace, I’ve decided she’s more of a fox. Smart, coy, confident, intuitive, skittish. All of which make me the hound in this hunt.
“Yes, I know the pieces we want to highlight, but it’s difficult to be in front of the camera and behind it to evaluate whether the images are coming out correctly. Can you do that for me?” My voice is husky, testing her response.
She licks her lips, and delight blooms, but then she uses a professional, customer service type voice. “Yes, Monsieur Corbin. May I have the details of the shoot?”
She’s trying diligently to keep distance between us, but little does she know that I have plans for this shoot. “Of course. The spread will be in Vogue Italia. We want our men’s line to appear luxurious, but also fresh. This is outfit one. What do you think?”
I hold my hands out, welcoming her to get a complete eyeful. To her credit, she doesn’t shrink away from the task. Her eyes narrow, measuring the jacket fit at the width of my shoulders and then down my arms to my wrists. Her eyes go left to right at my waist and then drop to my crotch. I know she’s critically checking my slacks, but I can’t help but feel aroused by her eyes on me there. Her cheeks flush ever so slightly, telling me that she’s noticed. Continuing her appraisal, she traces down my legs to my loafers.
“Well, what’s the verdict? Can you work with this?” I ask baitingly.