Not Just A Pretty Face

16. Gideon

Of fucking course Leonel was the darling of the fashion world right now. He was young, sweet-looking, and hard-edged with a streak of can’t touch this that made everyone want to.

I wasn’t jealous, exactly. I’d known exactly the attention Leonel would attract. That was why I’d picked him as a stand-in. A shoe-in, too.

But I was intrigued by the way he invited attention, flirted with it, and then slipped away from it. I leaned on the bar, glancing across it and half the room.

For the third time in ten minutes, someone approached Leonel on the dance floor while he swayed left to right as if entranced by the lights. He looked worn down, but I only noticed this because I had watched him whenever possible for these few weeks.

I’d been watching after shows and in crowds, where Leonel had every inch the aloof attitude and ego of his peers, if not more. For a moment, I wondered if I’d made a mistake getting him into this industry. But no, it was his natural talent. He was getting a shitload of attention because he’d stolen the goddamn closing show.

Right now, to anyone foolish enough to take Leonel at face value as even I first had, he just looked casually flirtatious. To those hopeful, he seemed to be awaiting approach by the right man.

And who could blame him for being exhausted? I had only been through the wringer of a few years’ worth of fashion weeks as a model before making the jump to the business side. I’d never slept better than when I didn’t have worry about breaking out before I was in the makeup chair the next morning.

Leonel smiled and batted his lashes again, sidling on one foot as he had done for every other guy approaching him tonight. He pretended not to be interested, but this wasn’t even a pretense.

This was genuine.

Still, even if he clearly didn’t want this guy, Leonel was reveling in being wanted. It was easy to tell from the little glow around him despite his tiredness. I knew that exact feeling -- just wanting to be wanted, even if I wasn’t particularly interested in who exactly took an interest.

I bit back a laugh when the other guy turned to scout out the best spot on the floor to dance, then looked back to find Leonel gone.

Instead, he was weaving his way through the crowd in the private club toward me.

I pushed myself away from the bar and straightened out my suit jacket with a tug, then fastened the top button one-handed.

“Don’t bother,” Leonel murmured as he came to lean his elbows on the bar, then glanced sideways at me.

My cheeks heated up for a moment. He was direct about his interest now that he seemed to sense he had permission to be. I liked that straightforwardness.

“Have to keep up appearances.”

“Uh-huh.” He eyed me. “Will anyone stop you? Will anyone even care? You can probably sleep with me all week long.”

“They wouldn’t care for my sake, but yours.”

“Oh.” He winked, turning sideways to lean his hip against the counter. His chest was just a few inches away from my shoulder now. It was easy for me to smell that fresh, faintly fruity scent. What was it? Conditioner? Shampoo? God, I liked it.

He leaned in to whisper, “Looking out for my reputation? How sweet.” Then he scanned the dance floor and seating areas, then shook his head when the bartender looked at him.

I glanced at Leonel from head to toe, taking in his loose print t-shirt and ripped jeans. I loved the extra peeks at his skin, and I itched to slip my finger into one of those holes.