Page 2 of Hot Stuff
And this woman isn’t naked!
“Tanya, you mind giving us a few minutes?” the wet dream getting closer to me by the second asks.
I hear movement, figure the photographer is leaving us alone, but I can’t take my eyes off the woman bringing my body back to life when only moments ago I thought it was dead.
I need to pull up my pants but I don’t dare take my hands off my dick for fear it’ll stab one of us in the eye.
She gives me no choice but to let go when she stops two feet away and offers her hand. “Hello, Walker Alcott, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The twinkle in her eyes tells me she knows my predicament and sees the funny side of this encounter, but I can’t be sure and, let’s be real, this could be my last big paying job once the extent of my injury gets out.
Taking her hand, I say, “Pleasure to meet you too, Ms…”
“James. Oakley James.”
Motherfucker. I flashed the goddamn CEO of Rogue!
“Ah, um.” I clear my throat. “The owner of Rogue?”
“Guilty. Although I’m part owner. One quarter of KAW, the parent company of Rogue.” She smiles and the twitching in my dick goes up a notch when images of those lips wrapped around it fill my head.
“Right. Okay.” Letting go of her hand, I yank my jeans up one-handed, struggling to keep my dick covered with the other. “Sorry about that. I, um, had a laundry mishap this morning.”
It’s a lie. It was no mishap. Fucking Kristina took to every last pair of my briefs with scissors. Actually, she took to more than my underwear but that’s beside the point.
Ms. James tips her head slightly to the right, a contemplative look on her face. “Can I ask you a personal question, Walker?”
“Ah, sure.”
“How invested are you in your relationship?”
Relationship? I haven’t been in a relationship for a year, the battle Kristina is waging couldn’t be called one unless you’re talking enemies at war.
And what the fuck? Is this woman reading my mind?
Shaking my head, I say, “I’m sorry?”
“Let’s go over here and sit down.”
Before I can argue or ask her to explain, she spins on her heel and heads back the way she came, disappearing behind the bright glare once again. Snapping out of my stupor, I button up my pants and follow.
By the time I get to where she’s standing beside a small table with two chairs, I can see we are alone. I have no idea where the photographer went or if I’m even going to be doing a photo shoot anymore.
After dropping my jeans and flashing the photographerandOakley James, the woman is probably preparing to tear up our contract.
“Take a seat,” she offers as she sinks into one of her own.
My ass hits the chair, and I can’t come up with anything to say other than, “Why do you want to know about my relationship? Not that I’m in one. And what does that have to do with me being the face of Rogue’s newest athletic shorts?”
“Nothing. It has to do with this.” She taps a large envelope on the table.
I shake my head again. This woman is confusing me at every turn. “I’m not following.”
“You’re based in New York right now.”
“Yes,” I answer, even though we both know it wasn’t a question.
“Would you move?”
