A New York Kind Of Love. Synithia WilliamsЧитать онлайн книгу.
talking and spun to face her. The smile on her face flickered for a second, about the same amount of time it took to do a quick inventory of Faith’s hair and outfit, before she got her features back in order. Faith wasn’t sure what that was about, but this woman probably made her living sizing people up in one look.
“Faith Logan, welcome and congratulations! I’m Kitty Brown, Irvin’s publicist and your host for this weekend,” she said in the cheerful voice Faith recognized from the phone call.
The photographer lifted his camera and pointed it in Faith’s direction. Kitty shook her head and motioned with a finger for him to lower it. “Not now. We’ll get a shot of her meeting Irvin instead of coming off the plane.” She turned to Faith with another big smile. “And we’ll get you just right for the introduction.”
“I really don’t need anything extra just to meet him,” Faith said, not liking the implication that she was somehow not ready to see the guy. Granted, she had hoped to put on a little makeup—lip gloss and some mascara—and even change into one of her dresses. But the way Kitty came across, it was as if Faith hadn’t spent the past few hours on a plane with an hour layover thanks to engine problems.
“Nothing extra,” Kitty said, “but we can...freshen you up a bit. We don’t have a lot of time. Your plane was delayed, you know.” Kitty said it as if Faith had some part in that. “So instead of the elaborate wardrobe, hair and makeup session we planned, we can go with a few changes for the photo shoot. We’ll save the major makeover for before the club tonight.”
“If the photo shoot is me meeting him for the first time, why do I need to change clothes?”
Kitty stopped in the middle of turning to the rest of the crew to raise her eyebrow at Faith. “Well, we can’t shoot you in that outfit.”
Faith bet that eyebrow and disdainful tone made people quake, but she had worked for one of the meanest hospital administrators in Houston. She’d been raised in the South, where an older woman could throw shade so fast and easy you wouldn’t realize she’d called you a bitch until two weeks later. Kitty didn’t intimidate her.
“What’s wrong with my outfit? Look, I’m willing to go with the flow, but I will not be insulted. Not my clothes, hair or anything else. If you wanted a starlet type, you probably could have picked one, but you didn’t. You chose me. So you’re getting me.”
The corner of Kitty’s mouth rose in a cynical smile. “A random-number generator chose you, not me. But I know how to make do with what I’m given. The offer wasn’t given as an insult—it’s part of the weekend. Makeover and photo shoot with Irvin. Don’t you remember that in the itinerary?”
“I haven’t read the itinerary,” she admitted.
Something very close to relief came across Kitty’s face. “No wonder you aren’t very enthusiastic. Just wait until you hear about all the fun I have in store for you. Prepare to be pleasantly surprised.”
Kitty slid her arm through Faith’s, as if they were old friends, and headed for the door. With a wave of her hand she indicated that the rest of the crew should follow, before diving headfirst into a speech on how lucky Faith was.
Faith tried to summon up the small amount of enthusiasm she’d felt on the plane, but Kitty barely gave her a chance to think, much less absorb it all. Plus, the woman wouldn’t take a breather so Faith could call her parents and let them know she’d arrived. It was unlikely that anything catastrophic had happened since that morning, but she would have felt better checking in. However, as Kitty kept up the chatter out to the limo and on the ride to the city, Faith gave up hope of calling until they reached their destination. She couldn’t help wondering if Kitty’s constant chatter was her punishment for going on this trip.
Irvin flipped through the pages of the latest Men’s Health magazine as he lounged on a sofa in the Manhattan studio of photographer Rafael Sims. Kitty was late, which was very unusual for her, but he wasn’t in a rush. The photo shoot with him and the winner should take about an hour, and his only afternoon plans were to not check his emails every six minutes. He wasn’t doing too well with that. Rafael had helped distract him for a few minutes with idle conversation until the photographer had got a call. Irvin glanced at his watch; five minutes had passed since he’d last looked. Which meant he might as well check his phone again.
He put down the magazine and picked up his mobile. As expected, there were no emails from Kevin Lipinski. He would have been better served leaving his mobile at home. He tossed it back onto the glass table in front of him and picked up the magazine.
“Is there anything I can get you while you wait?” Rafael’s young assistant came over and asked. Her smile indicated she offered a lot more than water or juice. She’d checked on him every five minutes since he’d arrived. He knew, because it was how often he’d checked his mobile.
He gave her a smile but shook his head. “No, thank you, Tina. I’m fine.”
“I don’t mean to be a bother. I just know that I hate waiting. Sometimes it helps to have a distraction,” she said, emphasizing the last word.
Inwardly he groaned. If he wasn’t the Irvin Freeman and was just a plain bloke walking down the street, would she even give him a passing glance? He doubted it. When he was growing up, his looks were considered average at best. Amazing how swagger, money and fame had taken him from regular guy to sex symbol.
He held up the magazine. “I have a distraction,” he said, not letting the smile drop from his face. He might get annoyed with the groupies, but he was never rude. Full mouths couldn’t complain, after all.
“Oh, well, if you need anything, just call me.”
She turned to walk away, and he did watch her stride across the room. She was beautiful—he’d give her that. Nice bum, small waist and tan skin. When he’d first started in the business, he would have accepted her offer. Back when being desired by a multitude of women was new, not annoying.
Tina glanced at him over her shoulder and caught him watching. The light in her eye nearly made him cringe for real. Now he’d have to convince her that he might have looked, but he had no intention of touching.
The moment was interrupted when Kitty and the rest of the group burst into the room with a wave of conversation and laughter. Though he’d known they were coming, the arrival of Kitty and the entourage came with the anxious feeling he had back when he’d started out in some small off-Broadway play. Every move he made while they were around would be watched, scrutinized and reported on some social-media site if deemed interesting enough to boost his celebrity status.
He scanned the group for the winner. Kitty had texted him that she still didn’t seem very excited, so he expected to find the cool smile and reserved expression from her employee photo. His scan came to an immediate halt when it landed on the smiling cutie talking to one of the cameramen.
In his mind he let out an appreciative whistle. This was not the reserved woman from the picture, not with that smile. It was what he noticed first. She had the brightest, most beautiful smile he’d ever seen on a woman. Then there were her legs: long, shapely and enticing in the short denim shorts. The lavender shirt showed off toned arms and looked good against the red undertones in her skin. Her dark, thick hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
Coming from the UK, he’d never understood the girl-next-door thing that American men went for, at least not until this moment. This woman made him think of barbecues, bike riding and picnics. All that down-home stuff Hollywood portrayed in their good ole American films.
He slowly stood and grinned. The weekend wasn’t going to be as bad as he had originally thought. He’d still stick with the “look but don’t touch” approach, but at least this woman was nice to look at.
She stopped talking and turned his way. The smile on her face froze, then became stiff around the edges. She