“CALL OUTS ARE MY favorite,” Afton squealed, before taking a drink of her iced tea. “I can’t wait to see these hotties in person.”
I rolled my eyes. “Hey, President Pervy, here’s an idea, how about not treating the models like pieces of meat?”
She pursed her lips together. “You’re no fun.”
“I’m about to bring some of my super awesome ‘bursting with fruit flavor’ fun to this Instagram account of yours so send in the models.”
“We’ve got about fifteen minutes,” Afton replied, shuffling through the folders splayed in front of her. “Today, I am looking for someone who will capture the confidence of a refined but rebellious spirit. A man with a natural, alluring masculinity, and an effortless sense of style.”
“Aren’t we all,” I chided, pushing up from the chair. “I’m going to get a bottle of water. You need anything?”
Afton leaned across the table to tap the intercom. “I can have Kayla bring you anything you need.”
“No, no,” I said, standing. “I’ll go to the executive break room and grab one. Besides, I need to stretch my legs.”
It was a short walk to the executive breakroom. The lobby outside the conference room where they were holding the call out was starting to fill up with pretty faces. I recognized a few faces, a lot of new faces. I remembered my first casting call like it was yesterday. It was hard not to stress over what to wear to the audition. My biggest fear was that I’d forget the photographer’s names that shot the pictures in my book if the casting director asked.
I pulled a bottle of San Pellegrino from the refrigerator and then grabbed a bag of almonds from the pantry. Sagging against the hallway wall, I swiped my phone and glanced through my messages, I had about ten from Haven.
“Excuse me, are you here for the model call?” I heard a deep voice ask from behind me.
I turned around to see a face that I was all too familiar with thanks to magazine covers, television and billboards.
Grady James had a picture-perfect face—luscious lips, a strong jaw with just the right amount of stubble. Let’s not discount his dreamy blue eyes and his long brown hair that fell perfectly over his brow. A human God chiseled from marble and sculpted masterfully, standing in front of me wearing a grey t-shirt and dark denim oozing James Dean cool attitude.
Dayum. So much for taking my own advice, I just objectified him seven ways to Sunday.
“I can’t find the receptionist,” he said glancing up from his phone. “Hey . . . Harlow, it’s good to see you.”
Shaking the lustful thoughts from my mind, I refocused. “No, I’m not here for the model call. Do you use that line on every woman you meet?”
With a laugh, he stepped forward giving me a warm embrace. “No, I’m genuinely lost,” he admitted, releasing me from his hold. “Plus, I think Haven gave me the wrong room number.”
When he pinned his blue eyes on me, and I could see he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. His complexion was pale and his skin was visibly ashy. Despite looking a little out of sorts, he still managed to take my breath away, but this simply wouldn’t do.
He cocked a brow, drawing my focus back to his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Pivoting on my heel, I tossed over my shoulder, “Come with me.”
He strode up beside me. “Thanks.”
“Are you sure that you’re a model?”
“Been in the business since I was twenty-two, I’m sure.”
“Why didn’t you bring your A-game today, then?” I challenged.
Sighing he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I know, I know. I think I drank too much last night.”
“That’s a big no-no, and I suppose that you had a ton of caffeine this morning and not enough water. If I was betting woman, and I am, I bet you also had a greasy breakfast.”
He held up his hands. “Guilty as charged.”
We turned the corner and walked into one of Buchanan’s spa treatment rooms. Glancing at my watch I knew that I had at least twelve minutes to get Grady ready for his audition.
“What are we doing in here?” he asked, shoving his phone into his pocket.
“I’m saving your ass, park it in that chair.” I pointed to the makeup chair and then handed him my bottle of mineral water. “Drink up, all of it.”
“I never knew that you were this bossy,” he said as he twisted off the cap.
“You call it bossy, I call it being assertive,” I replied, sifting through the stash of samples. I needed a brightening serum and eye-cream.
“Touché,” he said, before tossing back a drink. “So, if you’re not here for the call out, what are you doing?”
Would Grady like the short version or the long version that included my heartbreak and homeless situation? He didn’t need to hear my drama. I guessed that he had enough of his own problems from the way he looked walking in here today.
“Afton, she’s the President of the company . . . we were college roommates, anyway, she asked me to take over their Instagram account today for behind the scenes exclusives.”
I found a sample of brightening cleanser, and the directions said that it could be left on up to ten minutes. As much as I wished I could put a redefining mask on his skin, this would have to suffice. “Step over to the sink, I need you to use this cleanser and leave it on your face for at least five minutes.”
His fingers laced over mine when he reached for the bottle. Grady’s hand was warm and his fingertips were rougher than I expected. What I didn’t expect was a zap of electricity shooting over my skin.
My eyes met his, the man had intense blue eyes and his brow game was strong. He held my gaze, and nodded to the bottle that I was still holding onto. “Oh . . . sorry,” I stammered, shaking my head. Sidestepping him, I turned on the faucet and pulled a towel from the bin.
What the fuck was that? It’s been a few weeks since I’ve had the touch of a man and this was my reaction? He must have picked up on my needy desperation.
“This stuff smells awesome,” he said, pumping the cleanser into his hand.
“Yeah, it’s one of my favorite products,” I admitted, picking up the bottle and then twisting the cap. “It’s going to clear out your pores and extract those dead skin cells. You won’t believe how this stuff brightens up your skin.”
“Thank you for your help, I don’t want to fuck this up.” He blew out a deep breath and dropped into the chair. “Honestly, I forgot I had this call out today. My agent sent me a text while I was having breakfast. I’m afraid I’ve been off my A-game for a while, far too long.”
My fingers ached to reach out and touch him. Anything to feel the rush of tingles again, I’d love to run the back of my hand down his cheek to that sexy five o’clock shadow. That jawline could have its fucking way with me.
Wow. Okay, enough, Harlow.
“We all have our off days,” I offered, giving nothing more. My belief was that silence was better than bullshit. However, this was a special case, and all of us do have off days, so not total bullshit. I didn’t want to pry into his personal business, but I had a feeling that Grady was referring to his very public divorce. There were accusations of cheating on both sides that was about as much as I knew thanks to a copy of US Weekly in the gym. Not entirely credible journalism.
Pivot. Subtle topic shift needed now. Otherwise I would feel compelled to commiserate with him.
“What did you have for breakfast?”
He furrowed his brow. “Huh?”
“You said your agent reminded you about today over breakfast. What did you have?”
He smiled that slow heart stopping smile again. “Pancakes . . . a short stack with blueberries and a little bit of whipped cream and a side of maple brown sausage over at Nancy’s Diner.”
“Best French toast on the coast,” I said, grabbing a bag of cotton balls. “Man, I love that place, I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance to go there since I’ve been back.”
I busied myself with the self-appointed task of restocking the makeup stations with sponges, cotton balls and mascara wands.
“Oh yeah, you’ve been living in England, but now you’re back?”
I exhaled a sharp breath. “Yeah, I’ve got a new website to launch and some other projects going on, so moving back to the States made sense.”
Little white lies.
“Can I take this stuff off yet?” he asked, running his thumb along his jawline.
“Yeah, rinse and then pat your skin dry.”
I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want this moment to last a little while longer. Besides the fact that Grady James was easy on the eyes, the conversation was easy. It was always nice talking to someone who was in the business. In a way, it made me feel normal. If being famous could be considered normal.
Looking at me in the mirror, he smiled. “Do you have any inside tips on what they’re looking for today?”
Resting my hip against the counter, I watched as Grady washed his face. “You don’t need my help for that. I know for a fact that you’ve been to thousands of these things.”
I was certain there were very few things that Grady needed help with, and I could only assume that he excelled naturally at everything.
“Next, I’m going to have you apply a vitamin C serum and then an all-day moisturizer.” I popped the cap off the bottle placing it beside the sink. Then I had him apply the moisturizer. Once he finished, I tidied up the vanity area wiping down the faucet and the counter top.
“Why haven’t you and I ever worked together before?” he asked giving me that famous pretty boy smile of his. “I mean we have the same publicist, so you’d think Haven would have tried to get us together at one point.”
The meaning of his words, they were laced with innuendo, but I knew better than to make that assumption.
I lifted a shoulder. “Maybe there hasn’t been a project she thought that suited us both.”
“Hmm.” He cocked a brow, and sidestepped to stand in the doorway. “I’m not convinced.”
“The Sage Conference Room is where you need to be for the call,” I replied, switching off the lights.
“Thanks again, Harlow,” he called over his shoulder. “You saved my ass.”