Page 2 of My Sexy Rival (Stars In Their Eyes 2)
The three of them were all laughing and toasting.
Why would Jenner Davies meet with the owner of a photo agency? J.P. never ran around with stars and the people his photogs snapped pictures of. It would be the equivalent of a dog actively courting fleas. The fleas did their work quietly and in the distance, but never letting on they were setting up camp on the canines. Yes, I’d just compared J.P. to a flea, but I knew he’d be okay with the metaphor because he understood the roles, the system, the way things were supposed to work. Stars did not consort with photographers.
And why was Keats’s older brother there? The other guy had the same ruddy cheeks and the same tiny little nose, as if they’d both procured rhinoplasty from an identical mold.
Even as these questions flooded my brain, I didn’t let them paralyze me. My shooter’s instincts had kicked in, as I crouched by the plant, grabbed my camera, and began snapping pictures of Jenner. My main employer would happily take an unposed picture of Jenner Davies. J.P. would prefer it to the plethora of staged shots of Jenner glad-handing with recipients of his pre-planned charitable work. Plus, a random star sighting like this would earn me a few more bucks than a playground shot.
They didn’t notice me, and the maître d’ didn’t, either, or else his palm had already been greased by many a photo agency to look the other way. After I’d snapped enough shots, I tucked my camera in my backpack and retraced my steps to the bathroom, this time on a dual mission. I retrieved my toothbrush and toothpaste, then ducked into a stall and quickly downloaded the shots, sending them off to J.P. from my laptop along with a note that said Special Delivery: Just a little surprise for you. I know how you like them unposed.
A few dollar signs flashed before my eyes. The money would be good, and so would his reaction. I couldn’t wait to hear about J.P’s sure-to-be-gleeful delight when he discovered the unexpected photos. Forty-five seconds later I was rewarded with a reply: Bring that digital baby to papa. Selling these now!
Pride from a job well done suffused me as I left the restaurant unnoticed, yet again. I’d need to research Keats Wharton in more detail later this afternoon, but I reminded myself that whatever Keats was doing with Jenner Davies didn’t impact me. It couldn’t impact me, right? Because the check, so to speak, had already cleared.
A few feet away from the restaurant, I spotted a light blue Vespa, idling on the Promenade. On that blue Vespa was Flash herself, shooting away, snapping the same photos of Jenner.
Satisfaction curled through me as I watched her.
She was good, that girl, but this time I’d been first to shoot. That also meant I was hair’s breadth lucky. Had Flash been a minute earlier, she might have spotted me, and figured out The Dog Savior was really a paparazzo. I’d need to be as incognito as possible before the wedding. For my sake, and William’s.
His name alone sent a rush of sweet tingles across my chest as I remembered last night and the words he’d said in Italian that I didn’t understand. But they had sounded undeniably sexy falling from his lips. My skin turned hot as I recalled his kisses, the way he touched me, the connection between our bodies.
I swung by my parents’ house to leash up Jennifer, and as I worked through my volunteer shift at the hospital, I didn’t push aside the memories of last night. Instead, I let them skip happily through my brain, warming my body, keeping me company, until the clock ticked closer to William time. When my shift ended, I headed for the exit, the dog in a neat heel by my side, wagging her tail when she spotted Helen, who ran the program, rounding the corner.
“Hey. Did you hear there’s going to be an It’s Raining Men, Part II?”
“Thankfully, Hollywood is finally learning that male strippers are a big draw at the box office.”
“I’ll be at the theater on opening night with my one dollar bills ready to toss at the screen,” Helen said, patting the dog and chatting more as she walked toward the lobby with me. William was waiting by the door, his jeans and T-shirt hugging him in all the right places, showing off his toned arms without making him look like a show-off. He was casual and cool; he didn’t try to appear that way. He simply was that way, from how he dressed to his laid-back grin. He flashed a smile when he saw me, and my belly flipped, then flopped, then flipped again with butterflies. He was so handsome, and so delectable, and he was here for me. As soon as Helen noticed him, the clipboard she was holding slipped from her hands to the floor with a loud clang. William bent down to retrieve it, quickly handing it back to her.
