“My home address and phone number,” he said instead. “Are you available tomorrow afternoon?”
I swayed on my feet. I doubted I'd be available for anything tomorrow other than to try out any and all hangover cures, for science. However, a modeling gig wasn't so bad, and the sooner it was done the sooner I could cut ties with this guy. “Yeah,” I said, tearing my eyes away from his and pretending to study his card under the dim blue light. “Yeah, I think I'm free.”
“Excellent. Are you allergic to ferrets?”
My brain clunked.
“No?” I said. “I don't think so, anyway.”
“Oh good.” He beamed. “Because I have many ferrets. I might, perhaps, wish for you to pose with them. Nothing sexual, I assure you, but I think I could make an interesting composition from those elements.”
Ferrets. Really.
Maybe this guy wasn't a PR juggernaut, using eccentricity to his advantage. Maybe he didn't have an unfortunate coke addiction. Maybe he really was as bugfuck nuts as I'd heard, and I suspected that I, virtuous woman that I am who owns no television, had only scratched the surface of his crazy.
I liked this deal less and less all the time. I don't like crazy. Crazy brings drama. Drama brings tears brings screaming brings fighting brings slamming doors brings makeup sex and the cycle begins anew. And I'd had enough of that bullshit to last me a lifetime. Longer than a lifetime. When I get reincarnated into, say, a deer herd, I'll totally be a loner deer who doesn't interact with the other deer just to avoid bullshit drama about who rutted with who, and who saw who rubbing antlers with who, and so forth.
That's probably why I stuck with my current job. It was a steady paycheck, and the drama was minimal, and always involved other people when it was there, people I could brush off and ignore and then when I got home I could just read a book and not think about it...
Oh, I thought. Oh, crap.
Am I getting boring?
I looked at Malcolm Ward again, really looked at him this time. Yes, he was quite handsome, extremely well-dressed, and very well-formed. But aside from that there was a certain... something... about him that called to me. A little thrill of attraction, stretching from him to me. I'd felt it when our eyes met across the room. I'd felt it when he had demanded I submit myself for auction.
I was feeling it now.
I won't lie. I've been a magnet for drama in the past. I'm used to handling it. The drama of my current job is piddling compared to the shit I've had to deal with in the art world. But I had to admit, life was getting rather dull...
I'm bad at avoiding drama. I'm good at resolving it, but I guess I've had a lot of practice.
“Great,” I heard myself saying. “I'll be there tomorrow afternoon, ready to pose with ferrets. What time?”
“Shall we say four o'clock? That way we might catch an early dinner afterward...”
A date. Of course he wants a date from this. But whatever, if it took care of this, if it resolved this drama, I could do that. And it probably wouldn't be torture.
“Sure,” I agreed. Because I'm an idiot who makes the same mistakes over and over again. “That sounds fine.”
“Excellent!” He beamed at me, then reached out and put his delicate, long-fingered hands on my bare shoulders before leaning in to kiss my cheeks, European style.
The moment his skin met mine, a wave of dizziness swept over me, a slipping, falling sensation dropping straight through the center of my body. The warmth of his touch spread out over me, dripping along my skin like golden honey, and the scent of him, rich and masculine, invaded my head as he leaned in close. His cheek brushed mine—slightly rough with the growth of a day's beard—his lips barely grazing against my face before he moved to the other side.
As in a dream, I saw his mouth pass by my eyes as he traveled from one cheek to the other, and in that instance I saw his lips twisted and drawn, not in a devilish smile as I thought he might be wearing after wringing concessions from me, but in misery. Then the moment passed and he kissed my other cheek before drawing back, beaming once again, his hands still heavy on my shoulders.
“Tomorrow!” he bellowed, then swept past me, leaving me reeling.
Dazed, I watched him weave through the crowd, clapping his hand on backs, leaning in for more kisses. My face burned with his touch, my heart racing like a rabbit's in my chest, and long after he disappeared through the door to the ballroom I stared after him.
What a weird guy, I thought. And I was going to spend more time with him. The most interesting character to come out of these terrible events, and I'd pretty much fallen into his lap. A neat disruption to my dulling life.
Despite my better inclinations, I was looking forward to it, ferrets and all. But what I was most looking forward to was a chaser for my chaser.