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CHAPTER EIGHT
I’m glad to see that you’re finally taking the dress code seriously, Nash,” Deacon said as he and Nash sat at his desk and went over the comps from the survey.
Not that Nash was paying any attention to the list of numbers on the computer screen. Instead, his mind was fixated on one thing—the feel of Eden’s hot, quivering flesh beneath his fingers as she cried out her orgasm. Which explained why he was wearing a suit. Loose pants and a long suit jacket worked much better for hiding a raging hard-on than tight jeans.
“So what do you think?” Deacon asked.
Nash thought he was screwed. He had hoped that giving Eden her first orgasm would calm the desire she’d ignited. But it had only fed his hunger. And now instead of thinking about her occasionally, he thought about her every second.
“Nash? Are you listening to me?”
He blinked the image of pretty hazel eyes away and looked at his brother. “I think we should’ve gone with an independent marketing company and skipped the giveaway. It’s obvious from the results that these women are just brownnosing to win tickets to the fall fashion show.”
Deacon sat back and steepled his fingers. “That’s exactly what I think. So let’s call an independent and set one up.”
“I’ll get on it.”
“No, I’ll handle it,” Deacon said. “You need to talk with Grayson again. He’s still not moving on the swimsuit catalog models. He’s got it in his head that he has to find the perfect woman for the cover shot. I want the perfect one too, but on schedule. We have Miles shooting the photos in Fiji on the Monday after the Lover’s Ball. That’s less than two weeks away.”
Nash got up. “I’ll go talk to him now. Are you and Olivia going on the shoot?”
“No, we’re headed to Paris that week.”
“Business, I presume.”
Deacon grinned. “Of course.”
Grayson’s office wasn’t really an office. It was more a studio. His brother had removed all the office furniture and filled the windowed space with easels and canvases and the purple velvet divan he stole from the lobby. The divan now had one of the top supermodels in the world draped over it. Naked, of course. Rarely did a woman enter Grayson’s domain and keep her clothes on.
As Nash entered the room, he couldn’t help but look. Only a blind man wouldn’t. But her phenomenal body didn’t get a rise out of him. Lately, a sassy escort seemed to be the only one with that power.
“Hel-lo, Na-ish,” Natalia said in her thick Russian accent.
He flashed a smile and kept his gaze on her face. “I see that Grayson finally talked you into posing for him.”
“How could I resist posing for a true artist? Every woman wants to be worshiped, and Gar-a-a-son does that with each stroke of his brush. Unlike his brother. I thought you were going to call me.”
Nash didn’t remember telling her that, but he chose not to point that out. “You know I’m not much of a talker, Nat.”
Natalia sent him a seductive smile. “We don’t have to talk.”
Not knowing what to say to that, Nash tried to change the subject. “So how long have you been here?”
“A good two hours.” She directed her gaze at Grayson. “Look at him. He’s so wrapped up in his art, he doesn’t even know you’re here.”
It was true. Grayson had gone to that place he always went when he painted. He could sketch and talk all day long, but when he picked up a paintbrush, there was no more communication. There was just total concentration, his eyes flickering back and forth between the canvas in front of him and Natalia. And since he could paint all day without taking a break, Nash was forced to end the painting session.
“Do you think you could give us just a few minutes, Natalia?”
“Of course.” She quickly slipped into the robe that was draped over the back of the divan. As soon as she was clothed, Grayson came out of his trance.
“What are you doing, Nat? I wasn’t—” He finally noticed Nash. “Hey, what brings you here?”
Nash waited for Natalia to exit before he spoke. “Deacon is getting antsy about the swimsuit catalog. And I can’t say as I blame him, Gray. The shoot is only weeks away. Please tell me Nat is your choice.”
Grayson turned the canvas. “Does this look like the perfect cover model to you?”
The painting wasn’t complete, but it was still beautiful. It always amazed Nash just how talented his brother was. Not that he would ever tell him. “I think if we want to sell lingerie, she needs to be wearing some.”
