Page 10 of Strut

Hunter frowned. “Work?”

“Yes.” I rolled my eyes in dramatic fashion. “You know, that thing you do that lets you eat and pay your rent? I mean, obviously I don’tneedthe money. I should make... oh... I reckon at least a few hundred in my pocket from today, maybe more, but I like to keep my feet on the ground, mingle with the unwashed masses, keep in with the hood, if you know what I mean?” I shook my head and made a beeline for my clothes and bag, uncomfortably aware of my arse bouncing in all its barely covered glory.

“Alec, wait up a minute.”

As Hunter caught up, I steeled myself and grabbed my skinny black jeans. “Your friends are waiting.” I flicked a head to where Terence and Kelvin stood chatting as the studio emptied around them.

“Terence isn’t a friend,” Hunter answered flatly. “He’s just a guy I fucked once.”

I put my hand on my chest and sighed. “And they say romance is dead.”

Hunter laughed. “Come on, have coffee with me. Rhys and the others will kill me if he finds out we met up and I didn’t drill you for all the details of your first year.” He hesitated before adding, “I’d kind of like to know too.”

And there went all those fucking butterflies. But the mention of Rhys sealed the deal. I owed the seriously handsome designer more than I could ever repay.

“Okay, but I can’t do anything tonight,” I said honestly. “Give me your number and we can sort something out.” I reached into my bag and handed him my phone, a shiver running through me as his fingers brushed mine. Ridiculous didn’t even begin to describe my reaction to this guy. It made no fucking sense considering the way he’d left me in the dust.

Hunter typed his number into my contacts and sent himself a text while I hauled my jeans up over my briefs with no small amount of relief. “Where was it you said you worked?” He handed my phone back.

“I didn’t.” I ignored the flash of colour that momentarily stained Hunter’s cheeks and zipped my bag shut. “I bartend at Color most Thursday through Saturday nights when I’m available. It’s a gay bar in Chelsea. On the smaller side, but it’s popular and a nice place to work.”

Hunter nodded. “You got much happening this weekend?”

I sat down to slip my feet into my loafers. “I’ve got a runway show at a warehouse in Murray Hill on Saturday between one and three. It’s a low-key thing for an indie designer I met a few months ago. Actually, these jeans are his.” I stood and patted my thigh and Hunter’s gaze immediately dropped... and lingered.“But that’s it, other than my usual bar shift Saturday night.” I hoisted my bag over my shoulder expecting Hunter to step back.

He didn’t, leaving us way too close for comfort. “So maybe I’ll text you once I get a better handle on my diary.” His gaze sat warm on mine and those butterflies hiccupped all over the place. “It’s great to see you again, Alec. It really is.”

It really is? What the hell did that mean?I swallowed hard. “Yeah, you too.” I offered my hand to shake, but Hunter grinned and pulled me into another hug instead, his warm body flush against mine, the thick stubble on his jawline grazing my ear as he pulled me close, holding me just a second or two longer than necessary.

And oh boy.

He stepped back but kept his gaze firmly locked on mine. “I’ll be looking forward to our coffee.”

“Cool.” I turned and fled the room with as much composure as I could muster and an uptick in my heartbeat that needed to get the fuck out of town.

CHAPTERTHREE

Hunter

I jumpedoff the subway at the 18thStreet station and headed for West 19th. The cool lick in the evening air offered a welcome reprieve from the oppressive heat of the afternoon. I prayed the forecasters were right and the warmer than usual early October weather might finally be done fucking with the sweltering city.

At ten thirty on a Friday night, the air was redolent with a thick layer of acrid fumes that caught at the back of your throat. The city was out to play, the restaurants in full swing, the clubs pumping. I passed an Italian café and the mouth-watering aroma of tomatoes, chilli, and oregano seeped onto the sidewalk along with vibrant conversation and laughter, and they swept the more pungent reminders of big city life to the litter-filled gutter.

I hit the corner of Seventh and West 19thand paused to let the cars slide past on the one-way street and then quickly crossed. I both loved and hated this confusing city, my feelings a mix of fascination, excitement, irritation, and bewilderment. Go figure. Welcome to New York. The city fired my creative juices and drained my energy in equal measure. I couldn’t wait to get here and then I couldn’t wait to get home. But running into Alec on this trip was a heart-stopping bonus I wasn’t about to let pass.

Surprising Alec at the bar where he worked, however, was starting to seem not such the great idea I’d thought it was when I’d been lying on my couch scrolling through a million movie channels and wondering why I wasn’t in the mood to hit a club or five. Except that was total bullshit. The truth was, I hadn’t been able to get the man out of my head since I’d seen him at the shoot the day before. It had left me struggling to focus on anything except how my heart raced when Alec’s wide if somewhat wary smile had landed back on me for the first time in over a year. When he’d left for New York, I thought my world might finally return to normal. As it turned out, not so much.

It appeared I had a new normal. One that included me kicking myself for being such an arsehole and just letting the man walk away, while at the same time trying to ignore the way he’d burrowed a home under my skin in the few months we’d worked together for Flare. I’d paddled through a sea of men in my life with little concern for leaving any of them. The one Ihadhoped for more with had proved an unmitigated disaster and so these days I didn’t hanker or fixate or mope. At least I hadn’t.

Which offered zero explanations for this epic brain explosion of an idea. Meeting Alec for coffee was one thing. Creeping on the poor man uninvited at his job was entirely another. Not to mention he’d hardly seemed overjoyed to see me the day before, and I didn’t blame him. I should’ve been running. He was a model, for fuck’s sake. You’d have thought I’d learned my lesson.

What the hell am I doing?

Indulging my hots for the guy, sure. Alec was a beautiful, intriguing, and downright uncomfortable splinter under my thick, no-dating-rule skin. And a year apart hadn’t dulled any of that inconvenient attraction, as evidenced by my body’s reaction the minute I’d laid eyes on the man. He’d taken my breath away the year before, and he still did.

Alec was six foot two of smooth, blemish-free lean muscle, blond hair, deep ocean-blue eyes, and a boy-next-door-look with a naughty edge and a wicked come-hither smile. He was fucking irresistible. At least to me. And when he prowled the catwalk with that odd swagger he had, women drooled and men adjusted their dicks. He was sex on a stick and money in the bank to the lucky clients that booked him. Bad enough I couldn’t take my eyes off him when we’d worked together, but once I held him close and he’d come in my hand, yeah, I was so fucking done for.

But that wasn’t the kicker. Alec was also a sweet guy. All in all a perfect storm for my wayward heart. Beauty and brains and with a gentle unaffected manner, he was the definition of a damn unicorn in this business and my dick had signed up the first time I’d talked with him. But I saw enough stunning guys to handle a little inconvenient insta-lust. It went with the job. I didn’t fuck my models while they were on a job with me. I wasn’t going to bethatguy,thatphotographer. But I had zero answers when my head and other organs, which shall remain nameless, went belly up for the man as well.

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