Sculpting Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 2) (12 page)

I turned my eyes back to the spreadsheet, to my last hope. Exalt Talent and Modeling. The last of the companies in the area. I typed the number into my phone, looked down at it, but couldn't bring myself to make the call.

"I need to get out of here, maybe take a walk," I said aloud. On the floor in front of me, Salem raised his head up from where he'd been napping, keeping me company. He watched as I stood up, suddenly full of nervous energy, needing to move about and get it out somehow.

One walk around the block later and back up in my apartment, I still felt like I needed to move, almost like ants were crawling on my legs. "Maybe I'll go into the gallery and check on Lizzie," I suggested to Salem. He didn't look especially interested in the idea, but it would get me out of the apartment, at least, away from these same four walls that I'd been staring at all morning as various talent agents laughed and hung up on me.

A short drive later, I stepped into the gallery. Lizzie, still behind the front desk, perked up at the sound of the bell ringing above the front door. Her expression, however, drooped back down when she saw that it was just me.

"Sorry, not a customer," I apologized to her. "Any thoughts on advertising?"

Still looking dejected, she shook her head.

"Well, I've got to make a call," I told her, saying this more to try and psych myself up than because she looked at all curious. "Hopefully, this one won't laugh at me like the others."

"Great," she replied, still not showing the slightest bit of curiosity about whom I might be calling.

"Good talk," I said, and then stepped into the back room for a little bit of privacy. I took a deep breath, pushed the "call" button, and then tried to remind myself to breathe as I lifted the phone up to my ear.

"Good afternoon, Exalt Talent and Modeling," a pleasant voice answered.

"Yes, hello," I said, trying to ignore the loud thumping of my heart inside my chest. "I'm calling to ask if your agency provides nude models for artists?"

"Yes, we do offer those services." No hesitation from the agent. "May I inquire as to the artist?"

Here went nothing. I crossed my fingers. "Dean Benjamin de St. James?"

A pause for a second. I could hear the clacking of keys. She was about to tell me that he was on their blacklist, I just knew it.

Finally, she spoke up again. "I don't see him in our system, but I do see that he has a Facebook profile, as well as a blog and other accounts," she replied, her tone still light and polite. "We'd be happy to offer him a catalogue of our models, so that he can look over options and pricing. Would you prefer that I mail the catalogue over to you, or would it be easier for you to stop by and collect it in person?"

It took me a moment to respond. She hadn't said no! This woman didn't know about de St. James' past encounters with models! "I, um, I'll come over and pick it up right away," I managed to stammer out. I wasn't going to wait and let her realize that she might be making a big mistake!

"Wonderful," the woman replied to me smoothly. "I will leave the catalogue with our front desk receptionist for you to pick up at your convenience."

"Thank you," I said dully as she ended the call.

Yes! Success! And, I realized a moment later, the woman had approved de St. James because of the social media accounts that I'd only just created for him! Already, my efforts for the artist were paying dividends!

Beaming with happiness, I practically skipped out of the back room, up to join Lizzie at the receptionist's desk for the rest of the afternoon. As soon as the gallery closed up, I told myself, I'd drive right up to Exalt Talent and Modeling and grab that catalogue.

And once that was in my hands, I'd only have one more task to complete before Dean Benjamin de St. James had to sign on as an artist with our gallery! I'd nearly made it!

Chapter Fourteen

*

The monkey wrench in my plans appeared just five minutes before five o'clock PM, as I was getting ready to close down the gallery for the afternoon.

I looked up from the front desk as the bell over the door jingled. I'd taken pity on the despondent looking Lizzie and given her the rest of the afternoon off. "Go spend some time outside, maybe hang out with some friends," I had encouraged her. "You don't need to spend all day shut up in the gallery."

"Thanks," she replied, and vanished out of the building as if certain that I'd change my mind and take it back at any second.

For a minute, I just looked after her, feeling a bit guilty. When Lizzie started working here, just a few days ago, she'd been bubbly and irrepressible, full of energy. But now, after less than a full week of working for the Halesford Gallery, she seemed like an entirely different person. Maybe we needed a warning label on our Help Wanted advertisements: "May steal away your will to live."

In any case, I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting behind the front desk and scrolling idly through my Facebook feed. No customers came in to bother me, and by closing time, I was beginning to see why Lizzie had so quickly turned from excitement to dismay.

And then, with just five minutes before I could lock up for the day and go drive down to Exalt to collect the catalogue from their front desk receptionist, the bell jingled above the door as it opened.

"Hello, welcome to-" I paused in my speech as I looked up at the smiling face of Carter. As always, he looked so cool and confident, dressed in his usual work outfit of a navy suit and white shirt, with no tie and the collar hanging slightly open, the top button undone. His broad shoulders and muscled arms nicely filled out the sleeves of his suit; he'd never confirmed for me that he got his clothes tailored for him, but I would bet money on it being true.

"Carter!" I greeted him, cutting off my rehearsed speech and standing up to hug him as he stepped up. "It feels like it's been forever!"

"It feels that way to me, too," he replied, hugging me back. He smelled amazing, as always, and I could feel a little residual heat from the sun soaking into me. He must have walked over to the gallery. "How are things going?"

"Actually, you caught me just as I'm about to go rushing out," I admitted as I let go of him. "I need to swing by this modeling agency and pick up a catalogue of their models."

He frowned. "This is another task for de St. James, I'm guessing?"

I nodded. "Yep. This is the last modeling agency that hasn't blackballed him, so I'm going to make it very clear that he needs to treat them with respect."

"What did he do to the others?"

"It was only one, but he screamed at a model and threw things at her - and then tried to sue her," I revealed. "The story got around, and most of the other places have announced that they'll have nothing to do with him from this point forward."

Carter winced at the sound of de St. James' temper tantrum. "He sounds like such a great guy. Any plans for dinner after you pick up this catalogue?"

I paused, but then shook my head. "Nope, nothing planned as of yet." It would be too late in the evening for me to go over and hand off the catalogue to de St. James, I decided - and besides, after hearing people from these other modeling agencies bad-mouth him all day, I really, really didn't want to face him.

"Great!" Carter clapped his hands together. "How's this for a plan, then - you let me give you a ride over to the agency, and then we can go straight to dinner afterwards." He moved in towards me, reaching out and resting his hands lightly on my hips, drawing me in closer towards him. "And don't think that you can convince me to take no for an answer."

I smiled back at him. I hadn't considered it until now, but dinner with Carter suddenly sounded like exactly what I needed to de-stress after everything I'd been dealing with for the last couple of days. "You know, I guess that I'll just have to say yes-"

Behind Carter, the bell over the front door rang again as someone else stepped inside. "Becca!" came an excited shout from behind him.

Carter let go of me as we both turned to see who had joined us. I felt a moment of dismay as his hands left my hips, but a smile split my face as I saw who had entered.

"Portia!" I exclaimed, dashing forward to hug her. "What are you doing here? You've never stopped by the gallery before!"

"Well, I figured that you needed some stress relief after dealing with another long day of your crazy artist buddy!" she answered, beaming back at me. She turned her attention next to Carter, giving him a blatant up-and-down, her eyes smoky and seductive. "This isn't him, is he? Because my god, if you won't, I will!"

"Portia!" I burst out again, this time in a scandalized tone. "No - this is Carter James! Carter, this is my best friend Portia - please forgive her for her lack of a censor between her brain and her mouth."

"Pleased to meet you," Carter said politely, holding out his hand to Portia.

"And you too, after I've heard so much about you," Portia purred back at him, accepting his handshake. "You definitely measure up in person. At least, as far as I can see right now."

I stepped over to Portia so that I could punch her in the arm; she just grinned back at me. "Anyway, Portia, Carter and I actually need to go run an errand, and were then going to go out to dinner," I said, trying to move things along.

Portia, of course, pouted at me. "You're just going to leave me here? Even though I took the time to come out and have dinner with my best friend?"

I opened my mouth, feeling exasperated and wanting to point out that it was Portia who showed up unannounced - but Carter beat me to the punch.

"Why doesn't she come along as well?" he suggested. "The three of us can swing by the modeling agency and then go out to dinner, and maybe I'll get to learn a few more secrets about the real Becca Grace!" He grinned at me, still boyishly handsome, but I still didn't feel thrilled with his suggestion.

"That sounds perfect!" Portia piled on, however, before I could object. She smiled up at Carter in a way that I didn't totally like. "And you said something about a modeling agency? Is this related to all those jobs from de St. James?"

"Yes, it is," I said, feeling nettled that she was talking to Carter rather than me. "I just need to really briefly duck into this agency and pick up their catalogue. I'm sure it will be really boring," I added, hoping that this might discourage her.

But I could see that she was already sold on the idea. "That sounds like so much fun!" she insisted. "And afterwards, definitely dinner. I'm starving - I'm pretty sure that I haven't had a chance to sit down and eat a nice meal all day!" She smiled at Carter again, as I felt my teeth start to grind together. "And you can tell me all about you and Becca."

Carter shrugged. "I'm not sure how much there is to tell. I'm sure that you can share many more stories about her than I can."

I saw the smile on Portia's face take on a slightly wicked air. "Actually, there's this great one from back when we were out in this biker bar. The bar had this really big pool table, with all these brawny looking guys taking turns hitting the balls around with their sticks. Well, one of the guys was really hot, and so I dared Becca to go over and impress him by showing him that she could fit an entire cue ball in her-"

"Okay, okay, that's enough!" I yelped, hastily darting forward and physically holding up my hands to cut off that particularly embarrassing story. Carter really, really didn't need to hear about how it got stuck! "Alright, Portia, you can come along. But let's get going before the agency closes, shall we?"

Through a combination of talking, gesturing, and patting both Portia and Carter on the back, I managed to get them moving out of the gallery, down to where Carter had parked his luxury sedan on the street outside. The two of them kept chatting, however. I had to pause for a moment to lock the gallery doors behind me, but when I turned around, I caught the tail end of the story, something about "splattering everywhere, so embarrassing!" and cringed.

Portia hopped right into the back seat of the sedan, but Carter walked around to hold the passenger side door open for me. "Is it alright that I invited her along?" he asked, looking at me before I climbed into the car. His eyebrows furrowed together slightly. "I just wanted to be inclusive, and maybe hear a bit more about the real Becca. I know you've been busy for the last few days with this artist thing-"

"It's-" I stopped for a moment, forced myself to take a breath and let it out. "Just don't judge me based off of Portia's stories, okay?" I asked Carter. "She loves to tell all sorts of embarrassing ones, but there's more to me than that - I promise!"

His smile broadened, and he slipped his arm around my waist to draw me in against him. Feeling his warmth press up against me, I felt some of the tension that seemed to have permanently settled in my spine beginning to finally ebb away. He smelled good, and I didn't want him to let go of me.

"Trust me, I've already got a pretty good picture of you in my head," Carter murmured to me, his breath brushing gently against my ear.

"And it's a good one?" I asked, before I could stop myself.

He kissed me lightly on the cheek as he let go, stepping back to hold the passenger side door to his car open for me. "It's a masterpiece," he said simply, and I smiled at him as my heart melted.