Manic

Spence turns now. "Ronin will just have to learn to deal, Rook. I picked you because you're beautiful, you're the girl I want to represent my bikes. And if that makes Ronin uncomfortable, too bad. I won't be in all the shots, but we have to get a few, at least. I mean, that's just reality, Rook."

"I know," I say, sighing. "I should just forget about Ronin, huh?"

Spencer laughs. "Why? Why would you say that?" He points me over to the sheet and grabs his stuff, then starts painting my breast. "You like him, he likes you. What's the f**king problem?"

"If our roles were switched and Ronin was the model being painted up by a sexy artist, I'd be mad. I'd never put up with it, to be honest."

"So, you think I'm sexy, eh?"

I laugh. "You know what I mean."

"Well, you can't change that, Rook. You're the model, I'm the artist, he's the boyfriend. He can deal or not. But I'm still the artist and you're still the model. And if he's smart he'll just shut the f**k up about it, stay out of the way until the contract is over, and then forget it ever happened."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

He winces.

"What?"

"She broke up with me."

"How come?" I suck in a small breath as he paints a string along my upper ribcage and around my back.

He ignores my question for so long I'm ready to ask it again when he finally looks up, smiling.

"What?"

"She broke up with over this contract. She was jealous."

I can't help but laugh with him. "Well, I guess she didn't mean much, huh? You don't look broken up about it."

"Well, I do miss her hands because she's the one responsible for my body art. But I'm not a relationship kinda guy, Rook. I like to play the field. So if she wants to be a bitch about it, get jealous over you and me spending so much naked time together, then she can take the f**k off."

"Have you known her long?"

"Yeah, she's the model in all the other pictures too."

"Holy crap! That's just rude, Spencer!"

He doesn't even look up from painting my nipple. "What's rude?"

"She's your model and you chose me!"

He shrugs. "Your name's Rook and in case you haven't noticed, I've got quite a thing for blackbirds going on. Besides, this was a business decision. She wanted the contract money, that's all. She allowed me to paint her so she could make money. I let her be my canvas because she was willing. She used me, I used her, and to tell you the truth"—he does look up now—"I'm pretty f**king pissed off that she turned it all personal. I never promised her this contract and as you now know, this is way beyond a modeling job, right? It's a TV show, it's a marketing campaign, it's my entire f**king business. And if everything goes well, you'll be part of this franchise for a long time. I have long-term plans, Rook. And she was never part of them."

"But I am?"

"That's right," he says in a soft whisper. "You're definitely part of them."

Both our sound guys move the mics closer to us and I can only hope they missed that last part. Because I think Spencer Shrike just made some kind of declaration to me and I'm having hard time thinking it was professional because now his paintbrush is practically caressing me between my legs. He uses broad strokes, so it's not like he's trying to excite me on purpose, but he's a man, kneeling down in front of me, staring at my most private body parts.

I inhale, close my eyes, and think about how I'd feel if I walked in on Ronin doing this to some girl. Or even worse, Ronin getting his manly parts painted up by some hottie chick.

I snicker internally, proud of myself. That image was all it took.

"OK, on the floor with you, Blackbird."

I cringe. I was mad the last time he painted up my girly parts, but now I'm confused. And worried about Ronin and my physical reaction to Spencer.

"Problem, Rook?"

"No," I say as I kneel down, then lie back and fold my hands over my stomach. The camera crew backs off for this and it makes me wonder if Ford told them to do that. The first bikini was just white, so Spencer didn't spend a lot of time down here. It was quick and easy. The second one only required that he paint the stripes on.

But this time I'm bare again and Spencer wants to paint the suit up to look iridescent, so he spends more time than he did the last two times put together.

"Hurry up, Spencer, this is weird. If Ronin was here, he'd be having a fit, you staring right up into my—"

"Hey now! I'm painting, Rook!"

I snort. "Whatever, I'm standing up in ten seconds. I'm not spreading my legs for your motorcycle ad, so you don't need to get carried away with the details down there."

When my private count gets to ten, I push his head back and stand up. "I wasn't kidding."

He ignores me and continues painting a shadow under the string that wraps around my hip to the little piece of fabric on my ass.

"I don't like doing more than one outfit in a day. This sucks. I'm ready to be done—"

"We still have one more, Rook. Better settle down, sister."

My irritation comes out as a growl. "Well, I don't like it. I'm hungry, I want to pee, I'd like to take a nap, or read a f**king book, or—"

"Here, Rook."