Love By Design
Authors: Liz Matis
LOVE
BY
DESIGN
Liz Matis
Contents
CHAPTERS
Little Hondo Press, Contact: [email protected]
Copyright © 2011 by Liz Matis
Print ISBN: 978-0-9840098-7-9
Digital ISBN: 978-0-9840098-0-0
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, scanning, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without permission in writing from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition: October 2011
This book is dedicated to my husband Chris. After 26 years of marriage I think we can safely say we got our happy ever after.
Love is a voyage my infinitive woman
Fusion of two bodies blasted in our delectable passions
Your look is mine, my love
Your lips are my lips
Your breath, your heartbeats, all is mine
You are my love
My fingers trail your naked flesh, a thin stardust line,
Delicate pure and with goddess dew
Unflawed body of petals and honey
Then a kiss
Nothing persist but the wind
Nothing persist but our midnight moans
Nothing persist, only air and water, moonlight and whispers
Labyrinth of shadowy hands
Burning skins
Burning in our own blood
Penetrating each other’s veins
Juan M. Frisanccio Muñoz
Chapter
1
V
ictoria tossed the head shot of Russ Rowland onto the conference room table. “Why him?”
Ava picked up the photo and waved it under her client’s nose. “Have you gone blind? The man is smoking hot. You two are going to look great together.”
No, she hadn’t gone blind. When it came to gorgeous men her vision was twenty-twenty. Her inner sight, however, could use coke-bottle glasses. Victoria ignored the glossy print and turned away to look out the window of the towering skyscraper. Steam rose from the rain-soaked pavement of the hot New York City streets. Despite the air conditioning chilling her skin, she longed for the cool breezes of the family home in the Hamptons, even if her mother was currently in residence. “Design Intervention is not a reality dating show. You’re my friend. You’re supposed to do what’s best for me.”
“In this room I’m your agent. And I am doing what’s best for you.”
She turned from the window, rubbing her arms. “Have you seen his show in Australia? It’s one step away from porn.”
“But an important step. Besides, nothing wrong with a man using power tools while shirtless.” Ava tapped the picture. “Nothing at all.”
Victoria didn’t need the photo to remember the man was Playgirl material. Not that she read Playgirl. Well, not since college anyway. “It’s one thing to be on TV with a fabulous male gay designer, it’s another to be on with a half-naked, very straight man. The paparazzi will have a field day. Mother throws a fit every time I’m on Page Six.”
“Ratings are the name of the game. So if the pho-hogs take your picture, you smile nice. Besides, your mother doesn’t scare you. What are you really afraid of?”
“Nothing.” Everything. Would she be able to back up the first season’s success without Neil? And despite Ava saying so, Victoria was afraid that her mother was right about everything. From how she wore her hair to her career to the most contentious subject between them: marriage. “Couldn’t I just do the show solo until Neil gets back?”
“One, we don’t know when he’ll be back.” A long silence followed.
Victoria arched an eyebrow. “And two?”
“I hate to break it to you, but you can’t carry a show on your own. You need the back and forth interplay. And as beautiful as your designs are, the audience stays tuned to watch the antics between you and Neil.”
She hated that Ava was right. Viewers may love the big reveal at the end, but according to the fan letters, they were equally fascinated with the relationship between the two co-hosts. Some days it was like a damn soap opera. But Victoria needed Neil, not some surfer dude who decorated like a beach bum. This Russ probably didn’t know the difference between silk and satin, and thought stripping referred to him peeling off his shirt instead of refurbishing old furniture.
This was Neil’s fault. Victoria knew that was unfair. Dear sweet Neil, how could she be upset with him? While her co-host flew to his mother’s bedside in Arizona, she was whining about starring in a design show with a hunky, straight male, and an Aussie to boot. She must stop feeling sorry for herself. Stop depending on others for her happiness. She grinned at her agent. “You know what Neil would say?”
“Oh, this is going to be good,” encouraged Ava.
Victoria snapped her fingers and lowered her voice two octaves. “Honey, I wish he’d go all down-under on me.”
She and Ava shared a laugh. She needed Neil’s sense of humor. Needed him to be the co-star of this show, which he had conceptualized and named. Production should wait. Neil was fun, smart, cute, and gay. While Russ had predator written all over him. Her laugh faded. “He’s going to be difficult. He’ll try to take over.”
“He won’t be a problem.”
“He’s already a half an hour late. Keeping the network executives waiting is really impressive.” Victoria shook out the negative feelings swamping her. This was all wrong without Neil, but he’d assured her it was the right thing to do—the only thing to do.
Ava handed her Russ’s picture. “Come on, the ratings will go through the roof. You’ll get your design line for sure.”
That’s all Victoria ever wanted since she could put crayon to paper—her own design line. She’d created her logo at the age of fourteen. Designed her friends’ bedrooms even as her own mother refused Victoria free reign in her own room. All through high school her mother steered her towards law so she’d make the perfect politician’s wife. Victoria would nod and in secret she would dream and sketch. Now that she was so close to proving her mother wrong, would working with Russ hurt or help her cause?
She examined his image. Russ’s burnished blond hair fell in waves past his neck in such a way that begged for her fingers to dive in and explore its texture. His dazzling smile mocked her as if he knew she craved to kiss the photo like some thirteen-year-old. And to top it off, his light brown eyes colored like the hues of the outback at sunrise stared back, daring her to do so.
If a two-dimensional photo made her feel like a feline predator ready to pounce, what feelings would the 3D version churn out? She would just have to deal with it. Not that she had much choice, as they say, ‘The show must go on.’ “I can handle him.”
“I’ll look forward to it, luv.”
Both women flinched at the sound of the Aussie drawl. They looked up sheepishly, embarrassed at being caught ogling his picture and speaking about him as if he were a side of beef ready to be devoured. Though he didn’t seem to mind, did he?
His long, lean body rested casually against the frame of the door leading into the conference room. He sported loafers, khaki pants, and a white dress shirt. Unbuttoned at the collar, the color enhanced his deep-bronzed tan. So did the puka beads around his neck. If it weren’t for the five o’clock shadow or the aviator sunglasses resting on the top of his tousled hair, he would look almost civilized. But there was nothing civilized about the gleam in his eye. He looked like an assassin zeroing in on a target.
How long had he’d been listening? By his smile she guessed it was since the down-under part. Heat flamed across Victoria’s face and she resisted the urge to press her cool hands upon her cheeks.
She handed the incriminating photo back to Ava and walked forward to introduce herself.
He didn’t make it easy by continuing to lounge against the doorway. She put out her hand. “Mr. Rowland, nice to meet you. I’m Victoria Bryce.” Instead of shaking her hand as an equal business associate, he took it gently and raised it to his lips like they’ve just been introduced at a ball. A breath caught in her throat and she automatically tried to snatch her hand back but his grasp was firm. A tingling sensation skittered up her arm and her chest tightened as he tugged back. At any other time she would have thought she was having a heart attack. She instinctively knew he was just as dangerous as one, perhaps even more so. Maybe, her inner sight had sharpened a bit over time.
