AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Gosh…thanks!’ said Lara sarcastically.
Darian knitted his brows together, wondering if this rather unusual tendency to answer back at what was essentially a serious job interview was simply a way of getting herself noticed. Didn’t people sometimes act outrageously in order to detract attention from their glaring faults? And did she have any?
He let his eyes travel from the top of her head to the tips of her pointed leather boots. If you discounted the fact that her hair looked as though she had spent a large part of the morning being pulled through a particularly thorny hedge it really was the most glorious colour—the deep, burnished mahogany of a lovingly polished piece of furniture, touched with deeper, brighter shades of gold and amber. Dyed, most probably. All women dyed their hair these days. His mouth twisted. He had yet to meet a natural blonde!
But her brows were beautifully shaped and arched, and her skin looked soft—all roses and cream—like petals in the early morning when they had been kissed by the dew. It was skin that made her look as though she’d been brought up in the fresh air, raised on nothing stronger than milk and honey.
She had answered her own question, he realised. She was exactly the woman he was looking for.
‘Take your jacket off,’ he said slowly.
For a second Lara’s sang-froid almost deserted her. It was a perfectly normal request to make in the circumstances. It wasn’t as though he was asking her to perform a striptease. But that was exactly what it felt like. Inside, she was suddenly overcome with a bubbling mass of insecurity, which was crazy—crazy—
and yet there was something about this darkly golden man which made his request seem like an intrusion. She didn’t move.
Darian raised his eyebrows questioningly, ignoring Scott’s frown and the indignant glances of the other women.
Lara flashed him a cool and professional smile and slid her jacket from her shoulders with hands which were miraculously steady. Then casually slipped her finger through the loop of the jacket and stood before him, feeling a little as she imagined the favoured member of a harem must feel. All the women vying for one man’s attention and only one of them receiving it. Her heart was beating fast. You’re concocting fantasy, she told herself sternly. That’s all. Just because you think he’s the brother of the Sheikh you’re attributing to him all those kind of primitive man-woman things which you wouldn’t dream of doing if he was any average man.
‘How’s that?’ she asked, in a voice which she hoped didn’t betray quite how unsettled he was making her feel.
‘That’s fine,’ he said evenly, trying to be objective, but for once it wasn’t easy. Her body was good. Very good. She was tall and slender, and yet curved in just the right places, and her breasts were quite simply perfect—not too full and not too small, the white tee-shirt emphasising their shape and not quite disguising the pinpoint thrust of her nipples, which made him tense in desire even though he tried not to.
Darian looked around at the others. In terms of beauty there was not one woman present who could be faulted. There was every variety of womanhood represented here today. Most were slim—too slim, in his opinion, but that was the fashion. True, there were a couple whose curves were more luscious than slim, but the camera didn’t flatter real curves; he knew that.
Leisurely, he ran his eyes over each and every one of them, until they came back to rest and stay on the girl in the jeans. She looked normal and healthy and glowing and…and something about her was still making his skin tingle.
He nodded and turned to Scott. ‘Can I have a word, please? In private?’ he asked him.
‘Sure,’ Scott replied.
The two men moved to the only vacant corner of the studio. ‘I think we’ve found our English rose,’ Darian said slowly. ‘Don’t you?’
Scott turned to him. ‘But she’s a brunette!’
‘So? I don’t remember specifically asking for blonde!’
Scott lowered his voice. ‘We haven’t even tested her yet, Darian,’ he said, a touch anxiously. ‘In fact, we haven’t tested any of them.’
Darian gave an arrogant shrug. ‘There’s no need. She’s the one I want.’
‘But she might project completely the wrong image.’
Darian studied the varying blondes in the studio, who were all looking at him hopefully. They looked…they looked…bland, he realised impatiently. He flicked another glance at the brunette, who seemed so full of life and vitality in comparison, and a steady pulse began to beat at his temple. ‘She won’t,’ he said steadily. ‘Trust me.’
‘The place will erupt if you don’t test the others, too,’ protested Scott.
Darian shrugged. ‘Then test them.’
‘And show you the results?’
‘If you want. I’ll see them, but I won’t need to.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
Darian gave a slow smile. Instinct. Simple as that. She had what he wanted. ‘I just am. She’s the one.’
The atmosphere in the room was electric, and Lara felt decidedly odd. This wasn’t like a normal casting at all. Everyone was staring at her, and she wondered if the composition of her body had undergone some remarkable transformation, whether her blood could suddenly have become jelly. Because that was what she felt like—that was the way he was making her feel.
