Love Thy Neighbor (13 page)

“Matthew that’s great, but ah, I don’t think I can do this tonight. I have a big project I have to work on.” She heard the words leave her mouth and could hardly believe her ears. Wasn’t this what she’d been waiting for? A week ago she would have dropped everything to go meet with him. But not now. Not after what she’d experienced with Dallas tonight.

“Oh.” He sounded deflated. Shot down. “Maybe another night then. How about if I give you a call in a few days?”

“Yeah. Sure. That’ll be great.”

After their phone call, she stood in the kitchen sipping her tea. What was happening to her? The old Nikki would be throwing on a pair of jeans and rushing out the door with her hair still dripping wet to go listen to whatever Matthew had to say. She still loved him. She always would, but now she questioned if she really wanted him back. For the first time in five years she reevaluated their relationship and wondered if it was really all that great to begin with.

Nikki couldn’t imagine ever talking to Matthew about the things she talked to Dallas about tonight. She couldn’t imagine Matthew ever kissing her so tenderly one minute and so filled with passion the next. And never, not in a million years, could she imagine Matthew wanting to please her the way Dallas had. She could have counted on one hand all the times Matthew had gone down on her, and he always made her feel dirty, like he was doing it under duress.

But Dallas made her feel wanted, desirable. She felt so free with him, and she was beginning to think that maybe he was right. The boring one in her relationship all along had been Matthew.

After she finished her tea, she went over to her desk and sat down with her sketch pad. With a few strokes of her pencil, Nikki began to dream of the space she’d walked through earlier tonight. She knew a lot of interior designers went straight to the computer, but she liked the old-fashioned approach where she could work out the spacing, the colors and patterns, and render her rough schematics and elevations by hand at first. After that she’d work them up in CAD and present them to Dallas. In the meantime, she’d bid out the project to her vendors so she could put together a ballpark estimate.

Normally she requested a small fee up front for what she called the exploration phase, and though she needed the money now more than ever, she felt awkward talking about petty fees and retainers to a man who’d just rocked her world.

After she sketched some rough ideas for his studio, she started on his kitchen, which was already in pretty good shape. He explained that he’d recently replaced the appliances, and he sure as hell didn’t skimp. A Viking range, Viking dishwasher, and stainless steel Sub-Zero refrigerator with French doors on top and a freezer on the bottom. His countertops were gorgeous marble, but impractical, and she feared they were going to scratch at the slightest touch. Maybe they could put a special protective treatment on the surface. She’d already thought up a way to create a hidden row of storage bins beneath the island for all his recycling. She found out that night that Dallas was left-handed, and lefties needed special provisions in the kitchen, especially if they liked to cook. And much to her surprise, she found out that Dallas was quite the gourmet, which she found incredibly sexy. Nikki tapped the eraser end of her pencil to her sketch pad, picturing him feeding her strands of pasta and—
Stop. Focus. Focus.
God, how was she ever going to get through this project when she couldn’t stop thinking about being with him?

From the kitchen she moved on to the main floor space, and made some quick sketches. One design excited her more than the last as she moved from room to room, consulting her notes as she went. She knew she should have been tired, but she was too engrossed for sleep. She hadn’t been this inspired since before her business collapsed. She couldn’t wait to show her ideas to Dallas.

Finally at half past two in the morning, she forced herself to put down her pencil and get some rest. Several hours later she woke with a start. All she could think about then were her vendors.

This job required the best of the best, and she’d been on everyone’s shit list after Polly imploded their firm and stiffed most of them. Nikki only hoped that people in this town would realize that she wasn’t to blame. And Dallas’s loft was an amazing opportunity, but she couldn’t do a project like this with just anyone. She needed to convince her preferred vendors to give her a second chance.

She consulted her database, took a deep breath, and called the most important name on her list. “Hey, Donna,” she said when her faux-finish painter answered. “It’s Nikki Norris.”

“Oh. Nikki. Hey—hi.” Donna was a true artist. She’d spent years doing set designs for the Goodman Theatre and Steppenwolf before going out on her own and doing interiors. If Nikki could get Donna on board, she was sure the other vendors would follow.

“So I don’t know if you realized this, but I’ve opened my own firm and—”

“Yeah, yeah. I saw the email you sent over. Ah, congratulations. So how’s it going? How’s business?”

“Well, that’s the reason why I’m calling. See, I’ve got this new client and he’s got a loft space that’s fantastic. I’m working up the preliminary floor plans and I’d love to get you involved.”

Silence.

“Donna?”

“Ah, yeah, Nikki, I’m here. I’m not real comfortable with the idea of doing another project with you right now. Nothing personal, but I’m still about six grand in the hole from the last job we did together.”

“I know. And I feel horrible about that. But this is a project I know you’re going to want to be involved in. It’s a photographer’s loft. He’s über-successful and has a lot of important clients coming in and out of there…” She heard Donna sigh into the phone.

“Nikki, you know I’d like to help, but—”

“Please, Donna. This is a thirty-two-hundred-square-foot loft. Right downtown, in the heart of River North. It’s a high-profile project. It’s going to be gorgeous, and I’ll give you a full fifty percent down. Up front.”

Donna sighed again, but asked a few questions, and Nikki felt her softening up on the phone.

“I’m finalizing the concepts, but I’ve got an idea for a special treatment on the walls and I wanted to check in with you and see if you’ll work with me and give me a ballpark estimate.”

By the time she got off the phone, Donna had agreed to consider the designs and take a look at the space. That was all Nikki could have asked for at this point.

Chapter Twelve

Dallas looked through his camera lens at the two swimsuit models. Their bodies were sculpted, perfect as mannequins, and about as stiff. It had been a long day of shooting. They had an early call time that morning and he could tell the girls were tired. But he had one more shot to tick off his list before they could wrap for the day.

“Okay, girls,” Dallas said, checking his focus, giving the light meter another read, “let’s get this. Brittany, give me that look of yours. That’s it. Morgan, cheat it a bit more to your left, little more—okay. Perfect…”

He gave it another twenty minutes, switched cameras, and knocked off another hundred shots before he realized this was about the best it was going to get. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if it was him or the models. Maybe they had picked up on his lack of passion for the project. The shots he got would suffice, but he wasn’t used to delivering photos that just got the job done. Clients came to him for something special, for his own signature touch, but he wasn’t feeling it today. It just wasn’t clicking.

A few more shots for good measure, and he set his camera down and raked his hands through his hair. “Okay, guys, I think we got it.”

The room heaved a collective sigh of relief, and his first assistant, Winston, started turning off lights, breaking down the set. The models sagged and stepped out of their five-inch heels, while the stylist unplugged the steamer that stood off to the side puffing away like an exhaust pipe. His second assistant, Daphne, cleaned up the glasses, food, and snacks that were brought out midday to give them all a little energy boost.

“When’s call time tomorrow?” someone asked.

Dallas reached for a clipboard and checked his sheet, reading it off: “Seven thirty for the models, makeup, and hair. Eight o’clock for crew. Everyone else, nine o’clock.”

With the clipboard still in his hand, he scanned his shot list and looked over the setups for the next day. More of the same. Different models, different swimsuits, different backdrops, but everything else was the same-old, same-old. He rubbed a hand along his jaw and watched the chaos in his home slowly come to a quiet halt.

One by one the crew packed up. The makeup artists rolled up their brushes and palettes and packed up their tackle boxes of eye shadows, concealers, and God knows what else. The hair stylist, the set designer, and the creative director from the magazine all said their good-byes.

The only ones left were his assistants and Brittany, who gave him that look like she wanted to stick around and hang out with him. He wasn’t biting. Yes, she was a beautiful model and yes, a million guys would have traded places with him in a heartbeat, but he wasn’t interested.

What he wanted, the one he really wanted, was Nikki Norris. She said she needed a couple of days to work on his project, and the time away from her drove him crazy. He couldn’t believe how much he missed her, and Dallas wasn’t sure if that scared him or excited the hell out of him.

He couldn’t stop thinking about that girl, the feel of her body, the scent of her. And her taste, her own special taste. The memory of her alone went right to his groin, sending a mounting pressure to his balls.

He was so lost in his thoughts of Nikki that he hadn’t even heard his ringtone going off.

“Your phone’s ringing, man,” Winston said, holding out Dallas’s flashing cell.

Dallas looked at the screen. It was Conrad. “Hey mate, I’m running a little behind. We’re wrapped, so I should be there in half an hour…”

He’d made plans to meet Conrad for drinks that night at a dive bar called Celtic Crossings, home of the best Guinness pour in all of Chicago.

Dallas was still on his phone when the last of his crew waved good-bye for the night. Even a pouty Brittany tapped him on the shoulder, interrupting his call. “I’m leaving now in case you were wondering,” she said, pushing out her artificially plumped lower lip. She planted a kiss on his cheek and shot him one last come-hither look before she closed the door.

By the time Dallas arrived, Conrad was already sitting at the end of the bar with a beer in hand. Conrad was a photojournalist and had been the key organizer behind the glacier shoot. He was also a fellow Brit. He’d married a girl for his Green Card and was now blissfully divorced. Though he still pined for Sandy, the woman he’d left his wife for, he had a new girlfriend now who wanted him to marry her, but Conrad was in no hurry. Dallas could only imagine how she felt about Conrad taking a three-month shooting trip to Antarctica.

“Hey there, Romeo,” Conrad teased. “How are things in bunnyland?”

“Hell on earth.”

“You poor sap, you. All those beautiful sexy models getting you down, mate?”

“Piss off.” Dallas laughed. “Trust me when I say these beauties can turn real ugly, real fast.”

Conrad laughed, like
yeah, right, sure.

“Hey,” Dallas said, changing the subject, “so what’s the latest with Antarctica?”

“We’ll have to go from O’Hare to LAX and then we’ll have a layover before we go into New Zealand. There’re no commercial flights going in or out of Antarctica, so we’ll have to charter a private jet to take us into McMurdo.”

“That’s one helluva journey,” Dallas said. “Email me all the flight numbers and dates so I’ll have it ready.”

“What are you waiting for, man? Just pull the trigger and tell your clients you’re outta here for a few months. You can’t miss this trip. You just can’t.”

“I know. I’m working on it. Believe me. Marco was in town and—”

“Did you tell him about the trip?”

He nodded.

“And?”

“And, he was pissed, said it was lousy timing. Said my priorities were screwed up. He’s going to try to push back some Santa Monica shoot, but he said they’ll probably go with another photographer.” He reached for his beer. “I need to figure out how to juggle him and few other things before I can think about the trip.”

Dallas felt a tug in his chest. Deep down inside, he knew the real reason he wasn’t committing to Conrad wasn’t because of Marco or his work. It was because of Nikki.
Fuck, you’re thinking like a bloody chick.
He’d never let a woman stand in the way of his career before—especially a woman who was hung up on someone else. He took a big swallow of beer.

“…I’m getting my hands on some more of the original photos this week. These were shot back in 1923.” Conrad looked at Dallas and said, “Did you hear what I just said, man?”

“What? Yeah, yeah.” Dallas nodded absentmindedly, repeating the last thing he’d remembered. “1923.”

Conrad twisted about on his stool. “Are you okay, man? Something bothering you? I’m talking and it’s like you’re not even here.”

“Sorry, I’ve got a lot on my mind. Work stuff.” Dallas took a pull from his beer, wondering what Nikki was up to tonight, wondering if she was out with her ex.

“Bullshit,” Conrad said. “Who is she?”

“What? Who?”

“How long have I known you? The only time you get like this is when you’re hung up on a woman. So who is she?”

“Bugger off.” He laughed. “I don’t get hung up on women, remember? Didn’t you say that was my problem?”

“I admit it almost never happens, so whoever she is, she must be something special.” He cocked an eyebrow. “So who is she?”

“Shit.” Dallas took another gulp of his Guinness. “She’s driving me insane.”

“One of your models?”

“Hell no. She’s not in the business at all. She’s a sweet, nice, down-to-earth girl. She’s gorgeous. Doesn’t wear a lot of makeup—doesn’t need it. She’s not full of Botox and Restylane injections. You have no idea how appealing that is.”

“How’d you meet this one?”

“She’s my neighbor.”