He grinned. “You mean, sex life.” A statement, not a question.
“Semantics.” I wrinkled my nose at him, knowing that turned him on.
“Let’s put it this way. I’ve probably fucked every model in your Gloria’s Secret catalogue.”
I almost choked again. Why should I be surprised?
“But just like you, they were only mindless fucks.”
That wasn’t good enough. “That could pose another major conflict of interest.” Jealousy scorched through me, thinking that whoever we cast in the new advertising campaign might be someone he’d fucked. Or wanted to fuck. I shuddered at the thought of being just another conquest…the newest member on his find-feel-fuck-and-forget list.
With a roguish glint in his eyes, Mr. God’s Gift to Models twisted a lock of my loose hair around his index finger. “Don’t worry, Gloria. I plan to use fresh talent. In fact, I’m still convinced that you should be the star.”
What?
His eyes traveled from my face to my cleavage and stayed there. “My creative instincts tell me it just feels right.”
I raised my brows. “I don’t get it.”
“Think about it, angel. A beautiful, sexy CEO selling what she believes in. It would be breakthrough. And trust me, a camera couldn’t take a bad shot of you. We’ll just have to airbrush that scar of yours that you won’t tell me about.”
That did it. Before I could ingest another bite of the fish, I choked. Turning red, I immediately reached for my sparkling water and gulped it down.#p#分页标题#e#
“Are you okay?” asked a concerned Jaime.
“I don’t think so,” I finally managed, trying to wash down the painful memory.
“Do you want me to take you back to the hotel?”
“No. I’m fine. I meant about me modeling for the ad campaign.”
Jaime looked relieved. “Trust me, you’ll change your mind.” He leaned into me and planted a chaste kiss on my forehead, his first physical advance thus far. I inwardly trembled, still reeling from his obsession with my scar and his sexploits. I also wondered if this kiss would lead to my surprise. Any form of sex in this small intimate restaurant made my nerves sizzle.
To my relief, his advances stopped with the kiss. He continued to talk business, focusing on the timeline and logistics of the shoot. I half-listened, too wrapped up with my newfound insecurities. Feelings never entered the conversation. I was glad when the check came and reached for it.
“Remember, I still owe you a dinner.”
He grabbed the check out of my hand. “No, Gloria. Let me pay. I’ll charge it back to your account as I would call this strictly a business dinner.”
“Fine.” I flung the word at him as he dug into a pocket for his credit card and slapped it onto the table.
Our waiter returned with the paid bill. Jaime had obviously tipped him well because he had brought us our outerwear that we’d left with the coat-check. Rising, Jaime shrugged on his leather bomber jacket; it was one he wore when I first met him. One look at him in it made him once again totally irresistible. He adjusted my shawl over my shoulders, reverently lifting up my blanket of hair as he did. I put my doubts aside. By his actions—oh, those roses!—and the amount of time he spent with me, I had to be believe I was different from the others. He even said I was.
He kissed a sensitive spot on the side of my neck, bringing me into the moment. “So, Ms. Long, are you ready for your surprise?”
Ten minutes later, I was huddled next to him in his limo, blindfolded with a dense piece of black lace, heading to an unknown destination.
“Where are we going?” I asked nervously, brushing against his soft leather jacket as the limo made a sharp turn.
“That, my angel, is the surprise.”
Chapter 14
A short fifteen minutes later, I found myself traipsing across what my other senses told me was a pebbly path in my six-inch stilettos. Except for the crunching sounds of our footsteps and sirens in the distance, the balmy Paris air was silent. Damn it! I wished I could see where he was taking me.
“Why did you have to blindfold me?” I asked, clutching his arm for balance.
“Gloria, shame on you. You should know the answer to that already. To learn to trust me.”
My eyes rolled under the blindfold. Distracted, one of my sharp heels caught in the gravel. I stumbled but he caught me. “Are you taking me to some private underground sex club?” I asked nervously.
He laughed heartily. “Close but no cigar. It’s definitely private, but underground is the last word I’d use to describe it.”
What the fuck? Beneath my lace blindfold, my nose scrunched. “Are we there yet?” I asked, silently berating myself for sounding like a whiny six-year-old on a road trip.