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"Please, let me embarrass you." Alan squeezes my wrist in that Alan kind of way. He points to the man standing in front of the framed print of us.
Not Alan and me.
Alan, the man who owns the perfume company who put me on the map, is not the model type. He's photogenic enough--well, everyone is photogenic if you work their angles and perfect the lighting--but he prefers staying behind the scenes.
No, that photo is us.
Me and Hero.
Alan knows that, but he's unconcerned. He's too fixed on leading me toward a short guy with dyed platinum blond hair. A guy who looks exactly like--
"No." I shake my head. "Now?"
Alan nods. He introduces the Mystery Man. The head of a huge new denim company. It's the hottest thing in Seattle and it's already moving down the West Coast.
He's a big deal.
A really big deal.
I shake his hand. Nod. Smile. Listen intently as Alan and his friend gush over my photographs.
Especially the one of me and Hero.
His arm is wrapped around my waist. My hair is falling down my bare back. My legs are around his knees.
We're wearing jeans.
Only jeans.
There's no way to know it's me. That it's us.
But, God, hearing them go on and on about how erotic it is--
I'm red everywhere.
Flushed everywhere.
Equal parts embarrassed and aroused.
I should be used to it--Hero and I were the centerpiece of Alan's perfume campaign for the better part of a year--but I'm not.
Right now, staring at a giant photo--seriously, this thing is taller than I am--of Hero and I...
My heartbeat picks up.
My sex clenches.
My body tunes to him.
He's at the bar, refilling my vodka tonic, watching me in that careful yet secure way of his.
He trusts me to fend for myself.
But he's ready to jump in at any moment.
"We'd love to work with you, Ms. Langford," Mr. Fashion Executive goes on. "These moody black and white images are perfect. Can you imagine these models wearing nothing but jeans?"
I nod instead of correcting him. They are wearing nothing but jeans. But then I'm not about to argue with a guy offering me a six-figure gig.
"Of course." I fish a business card from my purse and press it into his palm. "I'll be in touch."
He stares at me, impressed and eager.
My head screams oh my God, lock this down now, but I keep my cool. More or less.
I'm not exactly Hero Fiennes Tiffin aloof.
More professional.
Focused.
Quirky.
"We're looking to start right away," Fashion Executive adds.
Damn, he's more excited than I am.
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BROKEN (Herophine Fanfic)
ChickLitI lost her once. I won't lose her again. After my brother's death, I was drowning.She was my life raft. Josephine and I were opposites, the outspoken art student and the brooding athlete. She was passionate where I was apathetic, bright where I wa...
