Her Kind of Trouble. Sarah MayberryЧитать онлайн книгу.
He slid them into his pocket.
“Adding them to your collection, are you?”
“I’m going to frame them and hang them above my bed.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Man, you are so full of it.”
But so charming and sexy, too. And, God, was he good in bed. Or, if they wanted to be strictly accurate, in car.
He pulled the cigarettes from his pocket and offered her one. She shook her head, and he lit up.
“We probably shouldn’t go back in together,” she pointed out.
“You want to go first or will I?”
“You go,” she said.
He considered her for a moment, then reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “See you ’round, Vivian.”
“Back at ya.”
He started walking toward the boathouse, trailing smoke. She watched him, a frown forming as the repercussions of what they’d done finally made their way through her hazy, champagne-muddled brain.
Her sister was married to his brother. She and Seth would see each other at family functions for the next forever. Probably getting naked with him at the first opportunity hadn’t been the best way to kick off their relationship.
Then she remembered his kiss, and the feel of his hands in her panties, and the hard, thick slide of him inside her, and she waved a hand in the air, shooing her concerns away like an annoying fly.
What had happened between her and Seth had been inevitable from the moment they’d laid eyes on each other. They’d simply gotten it out of the way sooner rather than later.
Which was a good thing.
Smoothing her hands over her hips, she took a deep breath and went to rejoin the party.
CHAPTER TWO
Ten years later
“WE READY TO go people?”
The assistant’s voice rang out over the chatter in the studio, causing a flurry of activity. Lights were tweaked, reflectors placed at the ready. Robin changed lenses on his camera, his dark head bent, his focus on the task absolute.
Vivian shook her head in admiration. He was so damn good at what he did; taking him up on his offer to become business partners was one of the best decisions she’d ever made.
The model she was dressing shifted her weight and Vivian turned to her own task, concentrating on knotting the scarf around the pretty blonde’s neck in a jaunty and sexy bow.
When she was finished she stood back, eyes narrowed as she studied the effect. The model raised her eyebrows, waiting. Vivian nodded.
“You are good to go, sweetie,” she said, patting her on the shoulder.
The girl beamed—and she was a girl, barely sixteen—and took her place on the purple velvet chaise that was the centerpiece of the photo. Vivian sighed. Were the models getting younger or was she getting older?
Probably a bit of both.
This was the last shot before lunch, but she went to the clothes rack to check that the next couple of outfits were ready to go anyway.
“Viv.”
She glanced over her shoulder, smiling when she caught sight of Jodie standing inside the doorway of the huge studio space.
“Hey. You found us!” she said, waving for her sister to come in.
Jodie glanced around anxiously, clearly worried about getting in the way. It probably looked chaotic to an outsider, but the organized mayhem was second nature to Vivian after five years working as a professional stylist. Taking pity on Jodie, she met her halfway, pulling her into a tight hug.
“Hey, gorgeous,” she said. “Thanks for coming all the way into the city to see me.”
Even though Vivian had been in Melbourne for over two months now, she hadn’t caught up with her sister nearly enough to make up for the ten years Vivian had spent in the U.S.—something Vivian intended to change now that she was home for good. Hence today’s lunch date.
“It was no big deal. This place is pretty amazing.”
Vivian looked around, trying to see her new workplace through her sister’s eyes. Once a factory, the building had been converted into studios and offices in the seventies. She and Robin had managed to snag the penthouse studio, a cavernous space with age-stained floorboards, rough brick walls that had been painted white and a vast wall of metal-framed windows that flooded the room with natural light, which was one of the many reasons she and Robin had gone gaga over it when they’d found it five weeks ago.
“It’s working out really well.”
Robin had been a friend and occasional work collaborator in L.A., but she’d still had her doubts when he proposed they join forces when he heard she, too, was planning to head home to Australia. All reservations had been blown away the first time they’d sat down to truly hammer out the details of their partnership, however, and from that day she’d been pinching herself that she’d gotten so lucky.
“So you’re settled, then?” Jodie asked.
There was an odd intensity to her gaze as she waited for Vivian’s answer.
“I’m well and truly, officially home,” Vivian said. “No way could I face another transPacific move. Besides, I missed you guys too much.”
Jodie’s two boys, Sam and Max, were nearly four and five, her mum and dad were getting older... It had been time to return, and Vivian didn’t regret it for a second, even if she did miss some aspects of her life in L.A. Her friends, the opportunities. Her very cool apartment in Los Feliz.
“Good. Because I like being able to do this instead of making do with Skype,” Jodie said.
Vivian checked her watch. “You hungry yet? Robin doesn’t need me until after lunch, so we can raid the buffet and go sit on the roof if you like?”
“That sounds suitably inner-city groovy and exciting for a mum of two from Balwyn.” Jodie rubbed her hands together in comic anticipation.
“I might have a couple of scarves and handbags to throw your way, too,” Vivian stage-whispered as they headed for a trestle table laden with food.
“Oh, goodie.”
Vivian had been keeping her sister supplied with a steady stream of fashion and accessories for years. When she was in L.A., Vivian had packed up her finds every month and shipped them to Australia, causing Jodie to joke she was “dressed by Vivian.”
“My God. How are you not the size of a house?” Jodie asked as she considered the array of food.
Sandwiches, subs, doughnuts, cake, lasagna warming in a bain-marie, three different types of salads. Vivian handed her sister a plate.
“I don’t eat dinner most of the time. And usually this sucker has been gutted by the time I get here and I get a sandwich with someone else’s fingerprints on it, and the slushy salad from the bottom of the bowl.”
“Ew. Even I would lose weight in that case.” Jodie patted her well-padded hips self-consciously.
“Jodie, if I ever have children, I will pray to the gods that I look half as good as you do,” Vivian said. “Now, dig in before these vultures break for lunch.”
They both loaded up their plates, then Vivian led her sister upstairs to the rooftop, an inhospitable concrete expanse she and Robin were attempting to humanize with a few deck chairs and potted plants.
They grabbed a chair each and chatted easily while eating—Jodie catching up Vivian on Max and Sam’s latest exploits, Vivian filling in her sister on the challenges of launching