Tanya Michaels – Sheer Decadence (страница 2)

The breakup, paired with her ethics-free roommate moving out and leaving Olivia to cover both halves of the rent, made this the perfect time to concentrate on becoming Design Supervisor. The promotion would include a raise and a much-coveted corner office. She’d been assigned more responsibilities lately, including her first supervisory role on an upcoming shoot, and she knew she was being tested. Maybe if she got the promotion, she’d dip her toes back into the dating pool, but when she did, she’d find someone nice and reliable, not another sexy playboy heavy on charm and light on scruples.

A knock against the open door startled her—people bucking for advancement shouldn’t be caught staring into space—and she jerked her head up to find a golden Adonis of a man leaning against the doorjamb. His eyes were a clear jewel-tone green, and his face was flawless, with a strong square jaw and chiseled cheekbones. Very tall, he had the kind of broad shoulders that would photograph equally well bare-chested or in a tuxedo shot.

Hardly the first time an incredibly attractive man had appeared in her doorway. Of course, they showed up at 461 when what they really wanted was 416. Story of her life.

“Male models should check in with Meg Jansen,” she told him. “Office 416, on the other side of the elevators.”

He arched a dark blond eyebrow in surprise. “Male models? I wasn’t looking for Meg Jansen. I wanted Olivia—” he consulted the yellow sticky-note in his hand “—Lockhart. Is that you?”

“Y-yes. And you are?”

“Justin Hawthorne,” he introduced himself. “Your photographer for the South Carolina shoot.”

This paragon of masculine appeal? No, no, no. “I believe Fred Elliot is my photographer for our swimwear issue.” She and grizzled veteran Fred already had a solid working relationship, had brainstormed locations and concepts often.

“Sorry, with Fred’s sister sick in Cincinnati, they substituted me for Stormy’s swimsuit shoot.” Justin grinned. “Try saying that three times fast.”

In addition to an obvious sense of humor, he had a great smile. Perfect even white teeth. A half dimple to the left of his mouth.

You are not going to notice his mouth.

Too late.

“I wanted to drop by and introduce myself before the meeting this afternoon,” he told her. “Steve just hired me away from Hilliard High Life, the sporting goods line for the ski-lodge and country-club set.”

She nodded to indicate familiarity with Hilliard’s catalog, but she’d only partially heard everything after hired. She’d assumed Justin was one of the freelancers, not realizing Steve had made a final decision.

“Don’t worry,” Justin added. “I’ve got plenty of experience, so you’ll be in good hands.”

The thought of being in his experienced hands made her mouth go dry. “Um…right, okay.”

He glanced past her shoulder at the bold painting that hung behind her desk. “Interesting.”

She followed his gaze. Her original Kallie Carmichael had been a gift to herself when she’d received her very first promotion at Sweet Nothings, graduating from copywriter to the layout team. The obscure artist’s use of bright colors and odd abstract visuals drew mixed reactions. Olivia wondered if Justin, as Sean first had, would pretend to like it in order to impress her.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I’m not wild about it.”

Well, if he hadn’t appreciated Kallie’s brilliant work, at least he’d been honest.

“I much prefer Ms. Carmichael’s later pieces,” he added. “Particularly the series in green she called Rebirth.”

She blinked. “You know who Kallie Carmichael is?”

His grin widened. “Did you think you were her only fan?”

What she thought was that Justin Hawthorne had one of the best smiles she’d ever seen.

When she couldn’t form an immediate answer, he nodded a quick goodbye. “See you at this afternoon’s meeting.”

Once he’d gone, Olivia exhaled in frustration and self-disgust. There was no good reason for her mind to have gone blank and her pulse to have jumped. Yes, he was incredible-looking, but so what? Her last boyfriend had been a model, and a very clear lesson that the insides weren’t always as attractive as the outside suggested.

Still, something about Justin…Don’t think of him as Justin. Think of him as Mr. Hawthorne. Or the photographer. Or even “that guy.” The less personal, the better.

They did have something in common, though. While she hadn’t been able to afford any of the paintings, Rebirth was a favorite series of hers, too. But shared admiration of an artist was no reason to lust after a co-worker she hardly knew. Co-worker. She clung to the steadying reminder that they’d be working together.

Securing her promotion required consummate professionalism, not drooling over J—that guy.

STACCATO high-heeled footsteps and accompanying feminine voices passed through the hall outside the Human Resources office, where Justin was completing personnel paperwork. One woman laughed, and the unabashed husky sound held just the right note of mischief to pique his interest. She sounded like someone who knew how to have fun.

Turning in his chair, he glanced through the open door and did a double take when he saw Olivia Lockhart. She stood waiting for the elevator with an attractive black woman, chuckling at something her friend had said. So much for first impressions.

When Olivia had first looked up at him this morning, he’d experienced a slash of desire—her clear gray eyes were a striking contrast to her jet-black hair and full red lips—but as beautiful as she was, she’d also seemed aloof. He’d wondered at the time if Olivia was always so withdrawn, or if she’d objected to something about him specifically. She certainly didn’t seem withdrawn now.

Her quick grin and earthy laugh heightened the attraction he’d felt earlier, and he watched her enter the elevator, appreciating the way her dark skirt hugged shapely hips. Between his line of work and having two younger sisters, Justin had run into a number of females who were dedicated to the pursuit of a stick figure. Personally, Justin liked women who were shaped like women. Olivia’s curves were damn near perfect.

“Almost finished?” The assistant HR manager, Kate Ames, tugged his thoughts away from Olivia and back to work. A young brunette with wavy hair and a bright smile, Kate had been nothing but friendly.

He nodded. “Just about.”

Two questions left, and he’d be a certified employee of Sweet Nothings. Excitement pulsed through him, not just because of the job—although what was not to love about photographing lingerie models?—but because of what this career change represented. For almost seven years, he’d dutifully put his wants and needs, from occupational choices to his love life, on hold. He’d taken on responsibilities he’d never expected, but now it was time to reclaim his life, be a little selfish. To begin with, he’d make up for the too many nights he’d slept alone. There were dozens of hot women out there, and he wanted to meet as many of them as possible.

Still, despite his enthusiasm over the new job, he had trouble refocusing on his paperwork. Which was the real Olivia: the coolly contained woman he’d encountered earlier, or the woman he’d watched in the hall, the one with the hint of wickedness in her laugh?

“I DON’T KNOW how you do it,” Meg Jansen said.

Ignoring the enticing scent of her friend’s French fries, Olivia picked at her salad. “If you’d seen me in high school, you’d know how I do it.” The willpower had been hard-earned, but worth it.

This is what’s wrong with my love life. Outside of finally ending a long-standing affair with Ben and Jerry, when it came to men, Olivia hadn’t found the self-discipline to replace the decadent with the nutritious. Men like Sean fell into the “dessert” category—no matter how tempting they were, they weren’t healthy in the long run.

Meg shook her head sadly. “All your attention to a well-balanced diet and getting up every morning to jog…that can’t be good for you.” Though Meg’s own curves ran toward the ample side, she was beautiful, dark-skinned with a close cap of short curls that accentuated her high cheekbones and wide hazel eyes, and she was at ease with her body in a way Olivia envied.

“No fries,” her friend continued. “Never any dessert. You don’t smoke. Jeanie says now no men, either? Tell me you have some vice I don’t know about, or I’m gonna worry about you just snapping one day.”

“So if I said I was a shopaholic, or drank martinis every afternoon, you’d feel better?”

“Much. Repression is not healthy.”

“Martinis are?”

“Maybe, maybe not…let’s discuss it over a round of drinks.”

Olivia laughed. “I’d love to, but this afternoon is one of Steve’s meetings.”

“In that case, we’d better order two rounds. Honest to God, that man can talk longer and say less than anyone I’ve ever met.” Meg swabbed another fry through ketchup. “Are you really going on a no-men kick?”

A kick that would be easier to uphold without Justin Hawthorne around. His smile had been plaguing her all morning. Okay, his smile and the first-rate buns she’d ogled when he’d turned and left her office.

“Not forever. And I’m not giving up all men, just a certain type. Sean lasted longer than the guy before him, but in the end…” Olivia speared a crouton on her fork with a crunch.