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CHAPTER 1

Lot Reardon stepped from the shower stall in his dressing room, toweling his dark hair.

"Hey, Lot, glad I caught you. Can you stay for a couple of hours?"

Still holding the towel to his head and about out of patience, he stared at his agent, Ray McMullen. The entire day of shooting had been a disaster. Nothing had gone smoothly from the lighting, to the set, to the other models who'd been nightmares to work with. "For what?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, the photographer and the magazine execs aren't happy with the shots they got of their cover models. They want you to stay and take some test shots."

"Alone?"

"No, they've got Pasha Rossdale's people talking to her right now, to see if she's game."

They wanted him to pose with Pasha Rossdale? Lowering the towel, Lot grinned at his representative. "I've always wanted to work with her."

"Yeah, I know you have." His agent smiled, in relief.

"Huh, well, maybe we can salvage this day after all."

"That's my boy, but one small problem."

"What's that?"

"The stylists have gone home." Ray looked up at Lot's wet messy hair.

"You do know that I'm quite capable of combing my own hair, right?"

"Yes, of course I do." He laughed, then his features turned serious. "Do you?"

"I can, and you know what else? I can brush my own teeth and wipe my own ass, too."

"Well, thank the Lord for that, cause I ain't doin' it."

"Get the fuck out of here and let me get dressed."

When Ray was gone, Lot pulled on the pair of jeans, the ones he'd arrived on location wearing, then dragged on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. He had no idea what they had in mind or if he'd be making a wardrobe change shortly.

He sauntered back out onto the set, waiting to see what was expected of him.

"Ah, here's Lot now," the photographer Doug, gestured him over. Lot had worked with him many times and found him both professional and talented. "Any news on Miss Rossdale?" he asked the assistant beside him.

"I'm here, Dougie."

They all turned to watch the exquisite, statuesque blonde walk toward them. She was also casual, in street clothes — a cream colored camisole and beige short shorts, that made her toned and tanned legs look, like they went on forever. But damn, was she sexy in them. She also must have taken advantage of the shower facilities, her hair although mostly dry still held that damp sectioned look. She was almost completely devoid of makeup except for some mascara lengthening and darkening her lashes.

Pasha Rossdale had come into the business around the time that Lot had been at the top and very much in demand. They'd been to many of the same photo shoots, but other than a passing greeting or a smile, they had never actually been formally introduced or spoken more than handful of words. But Lot had admired her work, not to mention that face and body for a long time.

As much as he had the dark and smoldering thing going on, she had radiance and smokin' hotness. But whereas, Lot felt like he was nearing the end of his career, Pasha's name was just beginning to be bandied about with the likes of Heidi and Giselle. And just like her predecessors, the press had dubbed her simply Pash or Pasha, no Rossdale required. And the real kicker was that he'd never heard a bad thing about her. Any other model that had worked with her in the past, male or female had nothing but glowing things to say about her. She wasn't a diva by any stretch of the imagination. He didn't think there was anyone else in the industry that could claim that. Not even him. He had been difficult. Especially lately, when retiring was the first thing on his mind when he got out of bed every morning.

"Ahh, there she is. Lovely. Thank you both for agreeing to stay," Doug said, as the magazine people joined them.

As the bigwigs and the photographer began to swap ideas, Lot smiled at the beautiful woman at his side.

Returning it, she stuck out her hand. "Nice to finally get to work with you Lot, I'm Pasha."

Enveloping her hand in his, he bent and kissed the back. To his delight, her smile widened. "I feel the same. It's about time."

"Okay," the photographer turned. "So what we want is just natural. We're going to turn on some music and let's just see what develops, all right?"

They each nodded and followed him to the spot where all the lights were focused.

Doug posed them the way he wanted them to begin. Just facing each other, Lot's hands on Pasha's hips.

Lot was busily drinking in the fresh-faced beauty. Most of the women he worked with had makeup caked on, and generally so did he, but this natural state made her even more stunning.

Once Doug had Pasha where he wanted her, he walked away, leaving them alone. With her hands on his shoulders, she gazed into his eyes gifting him with a soft smile. "Well, hello, handsome," she said. She had the most amazing dark eyes, which were almost startling with her blonde hair and fair skin.

"Pasha. What kind of name is that? Or is it a stage name?" he wondered.

"No, it's all mine. My grandmother was a Dr Zhivago fan and unfortunately she passed that on to my mother. I've never actually seen the movie myself, but I'm not even sure if Pasha was a nice character. Mom just loved the sound of the name. It's more commonly a boy's name."

"It is unique."

"Yes, that's what most people say. But secretly, I think I made out a whole lot better than my sister. Her name is Josslynn."

He didn't find that strange but then, he smiled as he put it all together. "Ahh, Josslynn Rossdale."

"Yep, back in school she was Joss Ross. She tried to get everyone to just call her J R, but it didn't really catch on."

"Does she look like you?"

"Yes, almost identical, why?"

"I can see why that didn't catch on. J R is not the most feminine of monikers."

"No, I suppose not. Actually, Joss and I just did a spread together, recently. It'll be out around Christmas."

"Is she a model too? I'm not familiar."

"No, she hates being in front of the camera. I had to beg her to do it. It was a piece on extremely attractive celebrity siblings. Joss is more so if you ask me." She smiled, the obvious pride she had in her sibling clear. "Joss is actually just starting up her own agency. For the last ten years, she's been my right hand and my agent." She pouted. "She's done just as much for my career as I have, maybe more so, since she steered me in the right direction the whole time and now that I seem to be doing okay on my own, she wanted a change. And I can't blame her, she's helped me so much, it's her turn to follow her dreams. I miss her terribly, though. But I know that she'll guide some of these up and comers into some really great careers. She's so good at it. And I know she'll always be there for me. Do you have siblings?"

"Nope, there's just me. And according to my mother, that's quite enough."

"Problem child were you, Mr Reardon?" she teased, her eyes sparkling.

"Me? Never."

She giggled and the sound along with her easy banter made him feel lighter than he had in weeks. If all shoots were this easy, retirement would be the farthest thing from his mind.

"Okay," Doug called. "Somebody cue some music." He walked over to the subjects. "Just be natural. Have fun with each other, flirt. Act like we're not even here. That won't be too hard will it, Lot? You lucky son of a gun, you.

Hard might be the operative word here. He was already keyed up by her nearness and her stunning good looks. Not to mention the fact that she smelled amazing. But once she started flirting and flaunting that fabulous form, he knew his body would catch up with what his brain already knew.

"I've got a camera over there." He pointed behind Pasha. "And another behind you, Lot. But try not to look at them. They'll be rolling the entire time. We might be able to get some great stills if we go frame by frame. That way, I can cover several angles at once. Right?"

The music finally blared and everyone cringed at once.

"Turn it down!" Doug bellowed and took up his position as the music softened to a tolerable decibel. "Doesn't have to pop our fuckin' eardrums for Christ's sake."

Some alternative crap came on.

"Hmm, how are we supposed to dance to that?" Pasha asked, swiveling her hips. "Not my thing. Just a sec, Lot," she said, breaking their hold. And she walked over to the young kid manning the stereo equipment. She leaned in and talked to him animatedly. The look of pure unadulterated lust that crossed the kid's face was priceless.

So flustered by her, he fiddled around for a while to no avail. Finally, Pasha moved behind the soundboard and after observing the controls, she found what she was looking for.

To Lot's surprise country music sounded and Pasha sailed back to him, all smiles.

"Now that's something we can get in to." Placing her hands back on his shoulders, she began to move, playfully at first, she was presumably still feeling a little awkward about being thrown in to this situation, just as he was.

"Let's win us a cover, Lot." She grinned, lightheartedly, her eyes flashing with mischief.

He held onto her as she flowed. She slid her hands off his shoulders and down his biceps, but when the next song came on, everything changed.

"Oh, I love this song," she cheered as if they were in a club, and not only did she dance, she sang the words. And just as he'd expected, he had lift-off.

It was one of those 'come over here and get me' songs. She knew all the lyrics and when she invited him to come closer, she punctuated it with some hip action that had his mouth watering.

"Come on, Lot, dance with me like there's no one else here watching. Just you and me."

She did a complete body roll that actually took his breath away. "Fuck! Where'd you learn to move like that?"

"I just love to feel the music. Touch me, Lot. Feel it with me."

Slowly, she moved her hands, skimming them up her slim waist and sides. The gesture pulled at the silky, loose fitting top she wore. And when she reached the hem, she snagged it with her fingertips giving the impression she might remove it altogether. She had him completely mesmerized. Right at the last minute, as her blouse unveiled the plump underside of her breast, she released it and it fell back down her torso. But as she raised her arms over her head, it lifted, showing off her midriff. It was fuckin' sexy.

Lot caressed her stomach greedily, wanting more than anything to touch the smooth, soft skin with his lips. Instead he splayed his hands up her back and pulled her closer, following her lead with his own modulation.

"Yeah," she breathed, snagging her full lower lip with her teeth, her gaze landing on his mouth briefly. He actually felt his skin tingle, as if she'd nipped him. "Like there's nobody watching," she finished in a whisper.

Suddenly, she skimmed her hands over his ribs. He couldn't stop the hum of pleasure from leaving his throat. After a long leisurely, feel-good trip over his skin, she finally reached his collarbone. After inserting her hands into the shoulders of his shirt, she then coaxed it from him.

"Let's get rid of that. Ahh, yes, that's much better," she purred as it floated to the floor, forgotten.

She explored his shoulders and chest and, by now he didn't give a rat's ass who was watching. He was being caressed by Pasha-freakin'-Rossdale and there was going to be photographic evidence.

"You have amazing pecs, Lot." She dug her fingers into his flesh. "Whew, it's getting warm in here. Must be the lights, huh," she teased.

"Or all that dancing."

"Or a certain male model with an incredible body."

"Are you flirting with me, Miss Rossdale?"

"I believe that's what the man asked for."

"Well, then, I guess I should do my part."

Generally, he wasn't much of a dancer, but he was encouraged by how carefree and easy-going she seemed, and tried to be the same. He spread his hands up her back and thrust his own hips forward, so that he could copy her undulations. She'd be extremely aware of his hard-on, but she seemed like she was up for just about anything.

"That's great, Lot, get into it. Pash? How would you feel about taking off your top as well?" Doug called.

She slowed, so Lot did too. An expression of anxiety crossed her lovely features — a delicate line marring her forehead, for the briefest second.

"You don't have to," Lot reassured her. "It's up to you. If you don't feel comfortable, don't do it. I'd like to work with you again. So, I don't want you walking away today with any bad feelings."

"No, I trust you," she said softly. He didn't know why but that meant a great deal to him.

"I'm not wearing a bra, so I'll want to keep you close."

"I'd prefer it," he said grinning.

"Hah! Okay, you take it off, but make it look sexy," she charged.

"You've already got that covered, Pash."

Another song started to play, a slow one. So he used it to get into the mood. Holding her close and swaying with her. He tucked his face into her neck and nuzzled her a little. She sighed and he felt her nipples tighten against his chest. He had to talk himself out of ripping her shirt off right then.

Still exploring him with her hands, now and again, she used her fingernails, grazing his skin. She had him on edge. He hoped this wasn't all for the damn camera. He was really getting into her.

Tucking his fingers under the flimsy garment, he then began to pull it up, slowly. He continued to tease her, exposing her flesh bit by bit with the rhythm of the music. His confidence doubled when goosebumps erupted all over her flawless skin. As she raised her arms he slipped the camisole over her head and let it fall away. Her glorious hair fell back down around them. For a split second he looked down at her, taking in the exquisite view, before she threw her arms around his shoulders and pressed her beautiful warm perfect breasts against his chest.

"Ahhh Jesus, Pasha, you feel so fuckin' good."

"You do too," she whispered.

"God, you've no idea how turned on I am right now." Maybe she shouldn't trust him. The urge to toss her over his shoulder and take her back to his dressing room, just to fuck her brains out, was almost overwhelming. To hell with the photo shoot or the earlier faith she seemed to have in his conduct. He wasn't that good.

"I am too," she whispered in this ear, right before she gave his lobe a little suck, making him groan out loud.

"This is hot, guys," Doug interrupted. "This is just what we were looking for and what the last two were lacking. Chemistry."

"Fuck, I really almost forgot they were there," Lot confided.

Shifting, she eased back, keeping her breasts touching him. Gone was the playful, easy-going expression and in its place sultry desire. Standing before him was a woman who wanted to be kissed and he was just the man to do it.

But before he could satisfy them both, Doug's little helpers slid back into place the set they'd designed for the other models.

"You don't have to but if we could take this horizontal, we'd love it. Don't worry, we changed the bedding. Not that there was any heat going on in the last session," he finished dryly.

"It's totally up to you, Pash," Lot said.

"I'm okay with it, if you are."

"I wouldn't mind getting horizontal with you." He smiled.

Pasha giggled in return, but the sound went straight to his aching cock.

"So how are we going to do this and make it look sexy?" she challenged looking over her shoulder.

He replied, "Well, the bottom of the bed is not too far from where we're standing. I'll back you up and I'll lower you and we'll go down together and I'll try my utmost to keep you covered for the most part, then we'll figure it out from there."

"Sounds good. Back me up, baby." She winked.

He chuckled deeply. "Be careful what you wish for, baby."

As soon as the back of her knees hit the mattress, Lot followed her downward. She inched up the bed toward the pillows and he shadowed her movements. When she got to the top, she wrapped her arms around his back and coaxed him on top of her, even opening her legs welcoming him against her heat.

"Oh fuck!"

She rubbed her cunt against his painfully engorged cock.

"You'd better stop that," he warned.

She grazed his chin with her teeth, and smoothed her fingers into his hair and she kissed him.

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Excerpted from "Gave Good Face"
by .
Copyright © 2014 HK Carlton.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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