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Marcus loped off to fetch the cone from the nearby Scoops storefront and returned momentarily, handing it briskly to Jackson with an elaborate bow. "Your wish is my command."
Jackson reached out for the cone. "You're silly," he observed. Marcus responded by stretching his face into a contorted grimace and sticking out his tongue. Jackson giggled and Logan, after a minute, followed suit. Soon, Wyatt was laughing too. It was the first time Jacqui had seen the kids let loose, and she giggled along with them.
"They're adorable. Yours?" Marcus raised an eyebrow, his sleepy-sexy eyes twinkling.
"Deus! Of course not, I'm only nineteen!" Jacqui laughed. If he wasn't so adorable, she would have been extremely offended.
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But she'd always had a soft spot for Australian accents, and his was particularly yummy.
Marcus drew a hand across his brow, pretending to look greatly relieved.
Midas, who was still taking photographs, mumbled, "Perfect. And undiscovered, I can bet on it. But how?" He finally put the camera down and addressed Jacqui directly, wiping the sweat off his brow. "You're not with any agency, are you?"
Jacqui shook her head. She had been mistaken for a model so often in Manhattan, it was always tempting to lie and say that she was so people would stop bothering her about it already.
Midas fished in his pants pocket for his card and handed it to her. "I'd love to take more photos of you if you're interested."
She took the card and put in her pocket, crumpling it with her fingers. She wasn't sure if she even believed they were real fashion photographers, and besides, she'd heard that line many times before.
"Oh, playing hard to get, are we?" Marcus teased, having noticed the discreet diss. "What my brother is too shy to tell you is that we just arrived here from Sydney to scout locations for a magazine shoot, and you're just the face we're looking for."
Jacqui shook her head again, more firmly this time but with a smile. "You're both very sweet, but it's just not for me." Once upon a time, Jacqui eagerly traded in her looks for anything it could bring--the use of older men's Black AmEx credit cards, free drinks at a bar, a better table in restaurants. But she was tired of being treated like an empty-headed doll. She wanted to prove
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to the world that she was a serious girl with serious ambitions-- to be known for the size of her brain rather than that of her bust.
"Don't tell me we've found the only girl in the world who doesn't want to be a model!" Marcus laughed. "You're going to put Tyra Banks out of business!"
Midas shrugged. "Just think about it," he said, in a serious, professional manner. He began putting away his camera and nodded, the conversation already over for him. "Let's go--we told Tonne we'd check out the pond to see if we can use it for the shoot."
"Hang on a sec," Marcus said, still eyeing Jacqui. "Sure you're not interested? We don't bite, you know."
Jacqui returned the smile. "I'm not. But if you guys really are fashion photographers, you might want to come by my friend's party tonight. She's opening her store." She dug out the invitation, which was only slightly grimy from having been used as a napkin. "Eliza Thompson. She's the biggest thing in the Hamptons right now." Okay, so that might not be true-- yet -- but it would be soon. She stretched out a hand with the invitation and Marcus took it, his fingers lingering over her own for a brief moment.
"Good on ya." Marcus nodded as he drew his hand away, smoothly pocketing the invite. "See you there."
Jacqui watched them saunter down the street until an insistent tug on her hem reminded her that there were other, smaller boys who needed her attention as well.
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ELIZA'S RING ONLY PROMISES MISUNDERSTANDINGS
"IT'S SO TIGHT!" MARA EXCLAIMED AS ELIZA TIGHTENED the straps on the white floor-length mermaid gown she'd asked Mara to model at the store-opening party.
"It's supposed to be tight," Eliza replied, cinching it so that the dress showed off Mara's lithe figure to spectacular effect. With its fishtail hem and crisscrossing straps in the back, it was one of her favorite pieces in her collection. "See?" She stepped back and turned Mara toward the mirror.
Mara took in her reflection. She had to admit, the constriction of her breathing might actually be worth it. If there was one thing you could say about Eliza's designs, it was that they flattered a woman's figure. She smiled at herself in the mirror, sneaking a glance at Eliza's beaming face and the messy bedroom behind them.
In typical Eliza fashion, her room at the Finnemore mansion looked like a hurricane had hit it--clothes, papers, and trash were strewn about everywhere. Balled-up designer gowns littered the
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carpet, along with tangled bikinis, wet beach towels, empty Fiji water bottles, and various fashion magazines. The dresser was covered in cosmetic cases, hairbrushes, and jars of face cream and lotion. Eliza had only lived in the room for a week, and yet it already looked like she'd been there for years. It was a minor miracle that she emerged from her messy room looking immaculately groomed every day.
Mara's phone vibrated with a text message on the dresser beside her, and she grabbed it while
