Page 2 of Her Supermodel Stalker
“He’s our new boss,” she says with a mischievous look.
“No way!” I say. “He’s so hot!”
“He sure is,” Susie says, wriggling her eyebrows now.
I frown a little. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”
"Oh my God, Lexi, don't tell me the equatorial sun tanned your eyes too! You don't recognize him?"
I squint to look harder. The man is walking closer to us now, and he takes off his glasses. Holy shit. He has my dream man’s eyes too.
"No fucking way," I mutter, my eyes are glued to the man.
He must've sensed my gaze because his eyes fall on me, and he waves—to Susie because she's waving at him.
"Devin Gamble?" I gasp as I look at Susie.
She nods.
My legs turn to jelly at once. Oh, my God. The man that’s solely responsible for my orgasms in the past three years. How could it be possible?
“Are you okay?” Susie asks, laughing. “I know how you feel. Star-struck. When I first saw him, I didn’t remember how to speak either.”
I glance at her. That explains the new hair color, the extra-long mascara, and the low neckline dress.
"Why didn't you tell me in your text?” I whisper, aware of the lack of oxygen around me.
What does it mean? Does it mean I’ll have to quit? There’s no way I can work for this guy. I won’t be able to see him without picturing him naked, without staring at his crotch, and wondering about how his male organ looks like in those designer pants.
"I wanted to see the surprise on your face," she says with a smirk the moment the two men are next to us.
"Welcome back," Mr. Fernandes hugs me, "Lexi, this is Mr. Devin Gamble, the new owner of the vineyard.”
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Gamble," I say in a shaky voice after Mr. Fernandes introduces me to him.
The man-god puts out his hand, and I hesitate before shaking it. As soon as I touch his warm, rough hand, an electric wave zips through me, and my heart stops beating for a second.
Oh. God. This cannot be true. I venture a look into his blue eyes. They are brighter and bluer than what I’ve seen in his photos. I’m pretty sure I've gawked at every single picture of him online.
“I'm glad to finally meet you, Lexi," he says with a smile. “Mr. Fernandes regards you highly.
That voice! The low, rich baritone that I’ve heard thousands of times on his YouTube videos. My lady bits can’t help but hum with the sexy rumbling, and a warm stream trickles down my core in an instant.
I've lost the ability to speak. "I... I...," I stutter like an idiot.
It doesn't matter that he's fully clothed. I can see through his shirts and picture his abs and his biceps. I've even seen his butt. My panties are already drenched.
I see a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as I glance up at him again, and I look away in a hurry.
What are the odds of a world-famous supermodel coming to a small valley in California?
What are the chances that a man whose photos I consume when I get off becomes my boss?
And why does my hair have to look bad the day I meet him? Shit. Shit. Shit.
"Shall we get started with the meeting? I’m about to explain some business details to Mr. Gamble, and formally introduce him to the administrative staff," Mr. Fernandes says.
“S…sure,” I mumble. “Let me just, err… drop off my stuff to my desk first.”
