Hot Spot. Debbi Rawlins
was thinking that maybe when I get better at that computer I can make some flyers. Pay some kid to hand them out at the corner.” Shelly pulled a tube of lipstick out of her pants pocket and used the mirror on the far wall to apply bright red to her lips. “Might be able to drum us up some more business. What do you think?”
Madison hesitated. She wouldn’t be here much longer. Shelly knew that. Madison had been up-front from the beginning. “Maybe.”
“Yeah, I know. You won’t be doing this much longer.” Shelly turned to her and shrugged. “I figure when the time comes that you kick me to the curb I’ll find some fresh graduate from NYU with gobs of student loans to repay and in desperate need of money.”
“Excuse me? Kick you to the curb?”
Shelly laughed. “I’m just so jealous I could spit. Tell me about him.”
“Jack Logan?”
“Who else do you think I mean?” Shelly planted her hands on her curvy hips. “I’ve been dying to hear about your meeting for two days. When’s the shoot? Tell me everything.”
Madison grinned. “He’s gorgeous. Breathtaking. What more can I say?”
“Girl, I can turn on the TV and see that for myself. I want to hear the juicy stuff.”
“We had a business meeting, for goodness sakes.”
“So? I heard he’s quite the flirt.”
Madison shook her head and made another adjustment to the tripod. “First, the only place you could have ‘heard’ anything is from one of those ridiculous tabloids you read. Second, I’m hardly in Jack Logan’s league.”
“Well, Miss Know-It-All, there’s a whole lot more truth in those magazines than you think. They can’t just pull those things out of thin air.”
“Of course not.”
Shelly chuckled. “You’re no fun.”
“You haven’t seen me after two margaritas.” Madison checked her watch. “What time are they supposed to get here?”
“Any minute.” Shelly poked her head out front, even though a warning buzzer went off every time someone came through the door, and then she looked back at Madison. “Evidently, he isn’t very tall, and he has to wear elevated shoes.”
“I’m five-eight and he has a good five inches on me. Strike one for evidently.”
Shelly snorted. “Is it true he’s dating Charlize Theron?”
“I wouldn’t have the faintest idea.”
“Last year he dumped that soap actress without warning. You shoulda seen the picture of her bawling her poor red eyes out.”
“You of all people, Shelly Mayfield.”
“What?”
“Like you don’t know how pictures can be altered.”
Shelly shrugged. “That doesn’t mean the sad thing wasn’t mooning after him.”
“I give up.” Shaking her head, Madison brushed past Shelly and headed to the front of the studio. The place was tiny and she’d be stuck in back with the Dennison twins and their doting mother long enough.
Shelly followed, continuing to babble, the list of women Jack had been seeing growing longer. Madison tried to shut her out. She didn’t care about Jack’s exploits. In fact, she didn’t want to think about them at all. Likely none of it was true, and she worked better when she liked her subject.
The door buzzer sounded and in came the Dennisons.
“I don’t wanna take my picture. I wanna go to the park.”
Mrs. Dennison had the red-faced boy by the collar. The other towheaded twin meekly held her hand. “Toby, we’ll go to the park when we’re through. And we’ll have hot dogs and ice cream, okay?”
“No, I wanna go now.” He started crying, wailing really. Loud enough for everyone in Queens to hear him.
Mrs. Dennison smiled brightly at Madison. “We’re here.”
Madison’s head started to ache. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow. Oh, yeah. And if she didn’t get that man to take his shirt off, she’d take the Dennison twins to a whole day at the park.
JACK FOUND A KEY CARD waiting for him at the front desk, just as Madison’s message had indicated. He used it to take the elevator to the rooftop garden where she said they should meet. Listening to the voice mail last night had brought some relief. He’d dreaded today since the moment he met her. Nothing personal. It was the whole sexiest-man nonsense. But the garden was at least a public spot and as good a start as any in the hotel.
Still, he wasn’t fooling himself. Eventually, she’d try to cajole him into taking off his shirt, getting into the pool, or lounging on one of the beds in the suite. Photographers were all alike. The more tantalizing or incriminating the shot, the better they liked it.
He didn’t begrudge her making a living. In fact, he was in awe of some photographers, the way they could evoke the deepest emotion with a single shot, one that could galvanize an entire city to action. Without a doubt great things had been accomplished through photography. None of which involved celebrity photos.
The elevator doors opened and the scent of gardenias greeted him before he got out. Still early, not quite seven, the garden appeared deserted. And then he saw her. By the gazebo, a half-eaten doughnut in one hand, while she used her other hand to fiddle with the camera mounted on a tripod.
Glad she hadn’t seen him yet, his gaze went to the red sweater she wore, the sleeves pushed up and the fabric molding nice high breasts. Not too large. Perfect for her slim build.
She took a hearty bite of the doughnut, and then enthusiastically licked her lips. He smiled but then pulled a straight face before noisily clearing his throat.
She turned to him with a look of surprise, still chewing, and then glanced at her watch. “Wow! It’s almost seven.”
“How long have you been here?”
“About an hour.” She gestured to a small silver thermos. “Want some coffee?”
“Later maybe.”
Her gaze went to his leather garment bag. “Are those the shirts?”
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