The Cover Model (6 page)

Her gaze met his and locked. "What else do you do?"

"I'm a lawyer."

Her eyes widened while her mouth gaped open. Astonishment showed easily on her expressive face.

Mitch chuckled, delighting in the fact he shocked her and knocked her off balance. Always a good idea to keep women on their toes and guessing.

She studied him closely. "What kind of law?" Her tone reeked of skepticism. "And which agency?"

"Contract law. Real estate. Wills. That sort of thing. More paperwork and less standing before a judge." He bit down on a pretzel. "Brokers, Cally, and Moran."

Her breath whooshed out. "Oh my god. Your office is just down the street from the lab."

"Mitch Moran at your service." He held out a hand to shake. She took it with a solid grip, her eyes never looking away from his face.

"I thought the women called you Mitch Jameson?"

"My modeling name. Just like the authors have pen names to protect their true identities from stalkers and overly avid fans, models have modeling names. I wouldn't want a mob of women beating down my front door at all hours of the day or night or following me to and from work each day for a picture opportunity or an autograph."

"Makes sense. So how did you start modeling?"

Grabbing his plastic cup, he drank deeply. "I started in college. One of my buddies dated a female model. She took him to a session, and the photographer latched onto him. He mentioned it to me, told me how much they paid, and I went along for the ride. Next thing I knew, the photographers were calling me frequently for more sessions. I enjoyed the work, it paid well, and could wrap up in a few hours." He thought back for a second. "I managed to pay most of my tuition by modeling."

"Even law school?"

"Even law school," he echoed.

"And you still model, obviously."

"Yep. Not as much as the agency would like, but enough to put extra money in my pocket and contribute to my early retirement fund."

"Wow. Now, I'm impressed. A lawyer. I'd never have guessed."

His lips twitched. "Most people wouldn't, definitely. I like to keep both careers completely separate." He winked. "I'm not just a pretty face, after all."

She snorted and ate another chip. "Pretty face to go along with that hunky body." Her gaze flew up to his as if just realizing what she said.

The corners of his mouth curled up. "Too late. No taking it back now."

A pretty blush flashed across her cheeks for a long moment before fading as quickly as it came. "You have more than enough ego. I don't need to be adding to it."

"Uh-huh." Finishing his sandwich, he shunted the topic of conversation back to her. "I've heard of the Genome Project. You work with human DNA, right?"

"We are one of several labs trying to locate, identify, and map genes that cause specific diseases such as cancer, schizophrenia, Alzheimer's, and several others. More like the second generation Genome Project, to be accurate, with a focus on diseases rather than simply discovering and mapping out human genes. If we can identify the gene or genes responsible, then we can start working on how to rectify the situation in order to prevent, manage, or cure the disease."

He caught the pride in her voice, the hope she carried in doing just that. Spending her days locked away in a lab in an effort to benefit large chunks of the worldwide population. His respect for her grew enormously. While she might be a squirrel at times, squawking at him over silly things and playing her naïve card, she beat all the models he knew hands down in the humanity and brainpower department.

"You going to the party tonight?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Why not? It'll be fun. Dress up as your favorite 'other' being." He did the quotation marks in air.

"Not my thing." She shrugged, taking another drink from her straw. "Besides, I have nothing to wear and no ticket."

Mitch scanned her face, trying to decipher the flash of emotions across her features. He made a mental note to call in a favor or two. As a VIP, he could surely acquire an extra ticket to the nightly events. "There's a costume shop close by. That's where I rented my costumes for the party."

"Sorry. Vampires and werewolves just don't appeal to me." She set her teeth into the sandwich and bit off a chunk. "What are you going to be anyway?"

He grinned sheepishly. "A werewolf. Complete with synthetic fur gloves and a head piece with ears and a pointy nose."

Fancy's lips twitched before she began to giggle.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. Just imagining the pickup lines the women will be using on you tonight."

His grin matched hers. "Oh, yeah."

"My, what big… eyes you have."

"That's the PG version." He waggled his eyebrows. "Some of those women are quite blunt, down, and dirty."

"You worried there will be a hunter in the forest tonight? Or perhaps someone with a silver arrow? What about fleas?"

"Nah. I don't do parasites. Nasty. And even if there are hunters and silver sharps around, a dozen women would throw themselves before me, begging for my life to be spared."

She snorted. "Conceited much?"

"Perhaps a little." Her laughter sounded like angels singing while her playful teasing put a smile on his face and washed away his worries for the time being. Something about her just felt right.

As much as he considered bowing out of the event that evening, he couldn't go through with it for a couple of reasons. First of all, he needed to keep his eyes open for the woman the FBI knew had to be hanging around the convention. Although it wasn't likely he could spot Donna, especially if she changed her appearance and added an outfit to match the night's activities. Add that with the fact that his agent would chew his rear if he missed one of the advertised events he had agreed to attend, and he didn't have a choice.

His shoulders slumped before another idea to meet Fancy popped into his mind. "Tomorrow. It's Old West night. You can find a nice dress to wear at the shop. Heck, a normal Sunday dress should work if you wanted."

For the first time, she showed signs of perking up. Interest showed with her rapt attention on his face, her eyes sparkled with excitement, and she radiated a sense of hope and opportunity. "I'm not sure…"

Pressing his advantage, Mitch nudged her toward acceptance. "Come on. Go with me. The party starts at seven. I'll get you a ticket. We can meet at our rooms and go down together."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You want me to go with you? To a party? Like as a date?"

His lips twitched with the incredulous tone of her voice. "Yes. Yes. And, yes. I want to escort you to the party, to dance with you, spend the evening with you."

"Wow. I don't know what to say." She worried her bottom lip.

"Just say yes."

Her gaze leveled on his before a slow smile appeared on her face. "Yes."

Chapter 9

"Mitch! Oh my god. It's Mitch!"

Mitch pasted on a smile as two more women rushed to his side, showering him with praising prattle. Polite, he answered their questions before excusing himself to move around the room, his gaze on the search for Donna.
Like I can find her in this mass of costume-clad women.
Talk about the odds of finding a needle in the haystack. Yet he refused to relent, figuring one of the women who recognized him and darted over might just be the one he sought.

Always before, the devout attention from the fairer sex stroked his ego and he easily managed to line up a hot, willing woman to spend the cold fall night in sensual activities. He was a man, after all. Single and more than happy to pass away the hours in sexual playtime with a woman who tickled his interest.

Tonight proved different. The adoration chafed his nerves, the flirting, the blatant requests for some alone time with him left him cold and bored. The women were pretty enough, but he couldn't manage even half-hearted interest. Not when his mind continuously crept back to his impromptu lunch date today.

Fancy. She intrigued him. A mixture of brains, beauty, and an innocence that he hadn't seen since his first year in college. More than likely, she spent most of her college life in class or the labs, striving to get ahead, to crack mysteries, and make the world a better place through her work and discoveries. He certainly respected her for her dedication, but felt she was missing something important: a social life.

Once again, he recalled the photo shoot. Fancy's momentary interest until Regina's snarkiness shot her down. The cruel statement must have stung, but Fancy appeared resilient enough earlier, not mentioning the event and even sharing a few laughs with him. He gave her credit for guts and the ability to put things behind her, at least for now.

"There you are." Jennifer, one of the models from his photo shoot, sauntered up. "I've been looking for you."

He'd been with her before, would be again except the sight of her didn't spark the least bit of interest. "Why?"

She ran her index finger from his chest up to his lips. "Having you touch me in front of the others today left me hot and bothered. I couldn't wait for tonight."

"Jennifer…"

She shushed him with her finger. "I can be Little Red Riding to your big bad wolf."

Any other time, those words would send a spark of heat straight to his groin. Now, they simply came across as corny and unflattering. "No thanks."

"What?" Her mouth dropped open.

"I'm sorry, Jennifer. I have other plans for tonight." Without bothering to explain, he strode across the room and straight out the door. Screw the party and the rest of the evening. He wasn't likely to recognize his target this night, and if another woman threw herself at him, he might just snap.

Stepping into the hallway, he sucked in a deep breath and checked his watch. Nine pm. Early for a convention night. Punching the elevator button, he debated what to do next.

A sudden thought hit. With renewed energy, he hurried down the hall, found Fancy's door, and knocked.

The door opened to find Fancy in two-piece black silky pajamas, her hair hanging loose, and face devoid of makeup. His manhood jumped at the sight. "There's a wolf at your door."

She blinked up at him, the corner of her mouth hitching upward. "So it seems. Are you here to eat me?"

He grinned at the double innuendo. "Do you want to be eaten?"

Fancy blushed, the pinkness only adding to her natural beauty. "Umm. Probably not. Come on in. No sense in standing out in the hallway."

He followed her in, automatically shutting the door behind him and recognizing a mirror image of his own room. One large bed, small table, with a wooden chair. Not much in the way of luxury, but the basics were covered.

She tilted her head. "I thought you would be at the party tonight."

"I was. It… left a lot to be desired." Boy, was that the truth. Relief washed over him as soon as he escaped the frenzy.

"I'm sorry." The soft words carried sincerity.

"Thanks." He shifted his weight from one foot to the next and stared down into Fancy's hazel eyes. "I thought, if you weren't doing anything, we could hang out together."

Surprise crossed her face, soon replaced by a quick smile. "I'd like that." She glanced down, then winced. "Although I'm not dressed for going out on the town."

"Then let's stay here."

"And do what?"

He shrugged. "Talk. Watch television." A book on the small bedside table caught his attention. "Read."

She followed his gaze, her mouth fell open, then she blinked up at him. "Read?"

He grinned, thrilled she hadn't already kicked him to the curb. "It's a romance novel, right?"

"Umm… yeah."

"I've been told they're great. So let's find out." He waggled his eyebrows, throwing out a subtle challenge.

"Just reading?"

Mitch nodded. "Yep. Unless we get bored and go for watching TV."

She seemed to ponder his offer for a moment before grinning. "Okay."

"Great." Striding across the room, he grabbed the book, plopped down on the queen-sized bed, resting his upper body against the headboard. Once settled, he patted the spot next to him. "Come on. We'll take turns reading."

Fancy sat down facing him, folded a leg under, and waited. "Are we starting from the beginning?"

He found her bookmark and opened the paperback to the place where she left off. "Nah. You'd be bored. Besides, you can catch me up if I get lost." He winked at her, then began reading.

An hour later, he found himself having a ball. Every few pages, they traded off, reading out loud to one another. Fancy balked at the sex scene, insisting he read all the juicy details. He willingly accepted, making every sentence count as he watched her color rise, her respirations increase, and read the hint of arousal in her face. She might be embarrassed to read about the act, but she certainly responded to every detail of the scene. His blood only ran hotter.

Once again, he thanked his lucky stars for wearing a pair of loose slacks, which had ample room to hide his physical reaction. Otherwise, the situation might become a bit awkward. He wanted to spend time with Fancy, bond with her, not scare her off with the evidence of his rampant desire. After their first meeting, Fancy probably wouldn't believe him if he told her the truth, that she excited him more than the models that had graced his room earlier in the day. But one day…