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“You wouldn’t believe the stories I could tell you,” she whispered slowly, lingering on the words suggestively.
Justine gave a smug little grin and tossed her mop of tousled blonde hair back. “I just knew you’d slept with him.”
Cal came over to them. “Can’t you two keep still for another few minutes? The session is nearly over.” He was frowning.
The two women started, and Georgie’s jug rolled down across her chest. Justine arrested its fall by trapping it between their two bodies. Their new, more comic pose resulted in a ripple of laughter from the onlookers. Cal gave up and closed the session, clapping his hands over his head a few minutes earlier than usual.
“Is he really that good?” Justine asked when they were getting dressed.
“Yes, I think he’s a very good artist. Don’t you?” Georgie replied, and laughed. She pulled on her cut-off black jeans and picked up the flash of ripped purple T-shirt that she’d worn that day. When she had tugged it into place, she found Justine was still looking at her, arms folded beneath her breasts, one eyebrow lifted accusingly.
“Gossip!” Georgie laughed.
Justine’s mouth opened into an outraged expression. “You can’t just leave me hanging. Tell me more!”
“Let’s just say he’s painted my eyes in already.”
Justine broke into laugher. “You lucky devil.” She reached for her clothes.
“Yes, indeed,” Georgie mused. “Like you wouldn’t believe.” That wasn’t the half of it.
“Hey, girl, you’re getting a starry-eyed look. You’re not falling for him, are you?”
Georgie’s head snapped back, her smile fading, her heart missing a beat. “Don’t be daft.” Her words sounded unconvincing, even to herself. She forced a laugh. “H
e’s a compelling man, all right, but I don’t think Cal’s the falling-for type. You know?” Even as she said it, she wondered if she could really help herself.
Justine nodded knowingly as she pulled her clothes on. “I can see that.”
Georgie once again remarked to herself that she didn’t know the half of it.
When they were both dressed, Justine picked up her bag and flung it over her shoulder. “How’s about we do some girly shopping tomorrow, and I’ll give you some key tips on having fun but not falling for the wrong type of men?”
“You’re on. I’ll text you tomorrow.” Georgie smiled at her younger friend’s cocky statement.
They went their separate ways, and when Georgie walked out onto the street, she found herself wishing that Cal had finished at the college for the day. They could have met afterwards and walked together.
Justine might be right about the starry eyes, she considered. She’d have to watch herself. But how could she resist him? He was the most intriguing man she’d ever met. He’d stayed with her for breakfast that morning, his body a streak of pure masculine beauty across her rose-covered bed while he sipped tea and stroked toast crumbs from her naked belly, even after they were gone. They talked about everyday things, and then they had talked with eyes and fingers, discovering each other in quiet ways.
Jason had risen and left at dawn, without a word to either of them. Cal told her a little of more of his predicament, but seemed unwilling to involve her. She gathered that the goods in question were photos Jason had taken of Zoë Mac, a pop singer who was currently a hot favorite amongst the teenyboppers. The photos were obviously something that might harm her image, and Greg wanted to make some money off of his more honorable paparazzi cousin.
She was deep in thought about the encounter as she cut through a busy street market and slowed to choose some flowers. When she had selected a spray of exotic orchids and chatted a while with the woman on the stall, she stepped back into the crowded central pathway. She’d only walked a little way further when she felt a hand close on her shoulder. She gasped and turned.
Damn. It was Richard.
He looked over the flowers. “Nice choice.” His expression was icy. That cool power was indicative of what had attracted her and, ultimately, repelled her.
“Will you do me the honor of having coffee with me?” He seemed so charming.
“No.” She knew this would incite him even more, but there seemed to be little alternative. She’d almost believed that nothing could intrude on her decadent new life, but over the last twenty-four hours it had become apparent that both she and Jason had old ghosts from their pasts that still had to be laid to rest.
He smirked. It didn’t suit him. His looks were so austere that it gave him the look of a nasty schoolboy who was about to pull a prank.
“Think again, Georgie.”
He opened his jacket and slipped the edge of a Polaroid photograph out against his shirt. From the exposed corner, she saw it was one they had taken together during the time they were lovers. It used to be a source of arousal to her, to look at the instant photos they took of one another during their sexual encounters -- until she had found out what a downright chauvinist and an absolute cad he really was.
“I’d rather burn in hell than spend another moment in your company.”
