A High Heels Haunting (4 page)

Alec grinned.  “Just think of me as the silent partner,” he joked.

“Nice to meet you,” I finally managed to get out.

“And this,” R.J. said, gesturing to Mr. Orgasm, “is Blake Stone.  He’s one of our many talented male models here at Parker.”

Blake stuck his hand out toward me.  For a moment I just looked at it.  Wow.  He was even better in 3D.

“Nice to meet you, Kya.” 

Kya.  He said my name.  Why did that suddenly make me want to doodle Blake + Kya in big hearts? 

“Uh, hi,” I said lamely, shaking his outstretched hand.  It was warm.  Big.  Mine almost disappeared in it.  And his grip was strong.  Yet familiar somehow.  Inviting.  I felt myself go warm in completely inappropriate places.

“I’m actually glad you two had a chance to meet,” R.J. continued.  “Blake will be doing the shoot with you on Sunday.  Don’t worry, he’s a pro.  He’ll walk you through everything, honey.”

I licked my lips again, my mouth suddenly dry.  “Okay.”

“Okay, great, listen, Kya, why don’t you go fill out those papers with Julie
,
and once Alec looks over everything, I’ll have someone give you a call with all the particulars about Sunday.” 

Alec nodded in agreement.

“Uh, okay
,
”
I heard myself say.

“Great, see you later, doll.”

“Nice to meet you,” Blake said, flashing me a smile that could melt the panties off a nun.

I smiled back.  I should have worn my hair down.  I had a feeling he would have liked that.  I blame the hangover and the night of brazen hussiness that I had a sudden vision of his hands fisted in my hair as he trailed his lips down my neck.

“I’ll see you Sunday
,
”
he said.

“What?” I blinked, feeling my cheeks go warm as Blake waved to me.  “Right.  Sunday.  Um, bye.”

I slipped out, closing the door behind me. 

I took a few deep breaths, trying to get my heart rate under control before I walked back down the hallway and out to reception.

“Miss Star?”

I paused halfway to the front door as the receptionist called my name. 

“Yes?”

“If you could just fill out these forms, we’ll get you on the books.”

I turned around.  She had a neat stack of papers sitting at the edge of her desk, arranged on a clipboard.  I glanced at the first page.  An agency contract between Parker models and Kya Star.  I scanned it.  While I couldn’t totally make out all the legal mumbo jumbo, it seemed like a pretty standard fare, a lot like the ones OmniWeb had our clients sign when we did web work for them.  I scanned the second page.  And felt my breath catch in my throat.  It was the agreement for the modeling job on Sunday.  And, apparently, models made a whole hell of a lot more than web designers.  Seriously, someone was going to pay me this much just to throw on some clothes and smile? 

I stared at the last page and
the
line just waiting for my signature. 

Okay, get serious, Kya.  One wild night at a club was one thing.  Even coming here today had been, well, a little on the crazy side.  But actually going on a modeling shoot?  How long did I think I could keep up this charade?

The reality of it was that I’d show up, they’d put the clothes on me and nothing would fit right, because, duh, being a flat chested stick of a woman, nothing ever fit right.  The Ex-Boyfriend had once said sex with me was like making love to a tree.  Chances were, they’d fire me on the spot. 

But, if they didn’t… 

Visions of all sorts of gadgets I could buy for my
laptop
with that kind of money started dancing before my eyes.  I took a deep breath.  And before I knew it, I was signing “Kya Star” on the bottom of the page and initialing here, here and here.

I felt my heart hammering in my chest as I pushed the clipboard back at Julie. 

She sent me a smile. “Thanks, Miss Star.  I’ll call you once we have the particulars about where and when you’re to show up on Sunday.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“Kya?”

I turned.  Blake was just coming down the hall.  I cleared my throat.  “Uh, hi.”

“Hey, glad I caught you.”

“Oh?” I
squeaked out,
cocking one eyebrow at him.

“R.J. told me you’re kind of new to modeling.”

I nodded.  “Between you and me,” I said leaning in, “I’m a photo shoot virgin.”

Ohmigod, did I just say ‘virgin’ to the hot guy? 

He grinned.  “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

Oh, baby.  My knees went shaky. 

“Listen, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to grab dinner some night?  I could give you a few pointers before the shoot?”

I blinked.  Dinner?  As in with
him
?  As in
he
and
I
together? 

“Are you asking me out on a date?” I asked, looking up coyly at him through my lashes. 
I'm not sure where I'd learned to look coyly at anyone. 
Probably a move I’d seen in an Angelina Jolie movie.   

One corner of his mouth lifted up, producing the most adorable dimple on the planet in his right cheek.  “Maybe.  Only, that is, if you say yes.”

I sucked in my lower lip seductively.  “Yes.”

The other corner lifted up.  What do you know?  He had a pair of dimples.  Absolutely adorable.  “Great.  I’ll get your number from R.J. and call you.  Tomorrow night sound okay?”

“Perfect. Looking forward to it, Blake,” I said.  Then before he could change his mind, I turned on my heel
s
and walked out the front door, giving my hips just a little more sway than normal.

As soon as I was outside, I ran down the front steps two at a time, doing a cross between hyperventilating and giggling like a kid with a serious pop star crush.  Ohmigod, had I just flirted with a hot model?  Did I have a date with one?  I had never flirted before.  I’d tried once.  With Ex-Boyfriend on our first date.  He’d told me later it was so pathetic that he’d felt sorry for me and taken me home.  Kinda like a little lost puppy. 

So, how had I done that?  It was like I knew exactly the right thing to say.  For once in my life. 

I looked down at my heels.  Maybe they really would change my life. 

I walked down the block, toward my car parked on the next street over and pulled out my cell, keying in Danielle’s extension at work.

“Danielle Greene,” she answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Danielle, it’s me.  Kya.”

“Kya!  Hey, girl.  Maxi
n
e and I were worried about you.  Peterman said you took a vacation day.  You okay?  Those cosmos hit you hard last night, huh?”

She didn’t know the half of it.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  Listen, I was wondering if you’re busy tonight?”

Danielle laughed.  “Don’t tell me you want to go clubbing again?”

“No, actually, I was wondering if maybe you could help me do a little shopping.  I need something to wear tomorrow night.  I-”  I paused, feeling my face break into a goofy grin.  “I have a hot date.” 

He was late.

I pulled my cell out for the fourth time in as many minutes, checking the screen.  7:05pm.  And no calls.  Blake had said he had a photo shoot that afternoon and to meet him at La Cucina restaurant at seven for dinner.  I was sitting in my car (too nervous to go into the restaurant alone) waiting for any sign of him in the parking lot.  None so far.  I was beginning to think I’d been punked.  I mean, had I really thought he wanted to go out with me?  Maybe it was ‘haze the new girl’, or maybe he and R.J. had been in on this little joke from the beginning.  Let’s see how far we can push the plain girl into actually thinking she’s really something.  I’ll offer her a modeling contract and you ask her out on a date.  Hardy har har.

I shifted in my seat, tugging at the hem of my dress as it rode up my thigh in my hatchback.  I had a feeling I’d be doing a lot of tugging tonight.  It was at least six inches shorter than anything I’d ever worn.  Slinky, tight, and cut into a low V in the front.  And red.  Not maroon or mauve but bright fire engine red.  I’d protested about a dozen different ways when Danielle had plucked it off the rack at Macy’s yesterday, but once she shoved me and the dress into a f
itting room, I’d had no choice b
ut to put it on.  Oddly enough, it actually flattered my shape.  It
gave
me a shape.  Almost a miracle.  And, it had been on sale.  Discounted fifty-percent off as the new season’s styles were about to come in.  But the deciding factor had been the color.  It perfectly matched my red heels.  Yeah, I was wearing them again.  Call me superstitious
,
but I was starting to think of them as my good luck charms.  I know, I know, I’d have to get a new pair at some point or people were going to begin to wonder if I didn’t only own one pair of shoes.  But, for now, they fit perfectly, matched perfectly, and looked smoking hot for my date.

That is if he ever showed up.

I glanced down at my cell again.  7:10pm.  Hell, was I being stood up?

I was about to call it quits when at 7:14 a blue convertible BMW roared into the parking lot, circling once before finding a space under a blinking overhead light.  The door opened and Blake emerged, dressed in a dark blazer over a pair of butt hugging jeans.  My stomach bottomed out
,
and I took a deep breath, getting out of the car just as he spotted me.  He waved, then jogged over as I locked my car.

“Hey, terrible traffic on 101.  Sorry I’m late,” he apologized, leaning down and brushing the slightest touch of a kiss on my right cheek. 

I was never washing that cheek again.

“Were you?  I just got here myself,” I lied.

“Perfect timing then.”  He grinned at me, a one dimpler this time.  “You look beautiful.”  His eyes did a head-to-toe thing, resting on my hair, loose and down my back tonight.  “I like your hair like this.  Long and loose.  Gorgeous.”

I licked my lips.  “Thanks.”  See?  I’d known he was a long-hair kind of guy. 

“Hungry?”

“Starving,” I replied honestly.

“Shall we then?”  He placed a hand at the small of my back, gently steering me toward the restaurant.  Though it may as well have been a cattle prod, it felt that hot.  Tingling, all consuming.  It was all I could do to place one foot in front of the other as my entire body focused on the heat coming through his palm.  Again I got that odd sense of familiarity.  I could easily imagine those hands gliding up my back, kneading at the nape of my neck, spinning me around for an intimate kiss as they tangled themselves in my hair.

“Did you have any trouble finding the place?”

“What?” I said the word on a sigh, pulling myself out of the vivid daydream.

“The restaurant?  You said you lived in Sunnyvale.  Any trouble getting here?”

“Oh, no.  No, your directions were perfect.”

“Yahoo maps.”  He winked at me.  “But I’m happy to take credit for them if they earn a brownie point or two.”

“Very cute.”

“I try.”  This time the grin was a two dimpler.

I couldn’t help smiling back as the waitress guided us to a table for two near the back.  White linen tablecloths, beveled wine glasses, a single votive candle flickering in the center.  All we needed now was shared strand of spaghetti and it was the picture of a romantic Italian restaurant. 

Blake pulled out my chair, then sat himself opposite me. 

“What are you in the mood for?” he asked, picking up the wine list.

“Oh.  Uh…”  I bit my lip.  As
witnessed by the cosmo disaster, I clearly wasn't much of a  drinker. 
Wine came in three kinds in my world:  red, white and from a box.  I wracked my brain to come up with anything that didn’t sound like I was twelve.  What did Danielle order when we’d gone out to lunch for her birthday?  What kind had they served at the office Christmas party?  Come one, anything.  “How about a… riesling?’

Blake looked up from the menu.  “A riesling?”

Shit, had I picked the wrong one?  “Yes.  Something light, a little fruity?”  God, please let riesling be light and fruity!  I was so pulling this out of my ass.

Again he paused.  Then slowly put the menu down.  “A riesling it is then.”  But he continued to give me an odd look.

I felt my cheeks burning and hoped Blake couldn’t tell under the dim lights.  “Unless you’d rather have something else?”

He shook his head.  “No, no.  It’s just…”  He looked down at his hands, clasp on the table in front of him.  “My last girlfriend.  She always ordered riesling.  It’s not that common.”

Great.  Leave it to me to pick the ex’s favorite.  “Oh.  Well, we can order something else if you’d like.”

“No.  It’s fine.”  He blinked back some emotion, then turned his sixty watt smile on again.  “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring that up.  Bad first date form, huh?”