The Lover’s Game (No Exceptions #2)(4)
Author: J.C. Reed

I turned back to Thalia, glad she didn’t seem to notice the sudden drop in my mood, and watched her change into a peach-colored dress with fishnet stockings. I had to admit, not only did she have a gorgeous body with toned legs and hips to die for, but the attire seemed to be her thing, as though she never wore anything else.

“Do you like your job?” I resumed the conversation as she began to paint her lips a bright shade of red.

“I do.” She nodded, and with a glance in the mirror she smacked her lips. “I’m a big fan of anything burlesque because it’s so feminine. You snap a picture, and you can be sure it’s going to be perfect. There’s nothing ugly about being a pin-up girl, Jenna.”

I flinched at hearing the sound of my sister’s name, and realized I had forgotten that I had adopted a false identity. Oblivious to my reaction, Thalia began to apply some of her lipstick on my lips and then snapped the cap shut. “What we are doing is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not  p**n , but art, and that makes all the difference.”

She flashed me a smile, revealing two beautiful rows of pearly white teeth and slight dimples that gave her character. “The way I see it, it’s an honor,” she continued, her hazel eyes regarding me warmly, “to help a man dream of his perfect girl—one who’s out of his reach. We’re what I’d call a fantasy, a dream, something most men will never have.” She grabbed my hand, infusing some chirpiness in her voice. “Come on. Time to meet Grayson.”

Chapter 4

By the time we returned to the hall and ascended a staircase, I was beginning to think it was all a mistake. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel the blood rushing in my ears, threatening to burst my veins. What had I been thinking? I didn’t have Thalia’s confidence. I didn’t have her gorgeous looks. In no way would I be suitable for working as a model. I could call myself lucky if this Grayson guy didn’t laugh. I was better off finding a job in real estate and waiting tables in the evening.

Don’t be stupid, Stewart. You can’t afford to live off just one income, and topping it off with tips certainly wouldn’t make a difference.

My heart sank in my chest as I realized that not only did I need a second job, but if I was to avoid Jett for the rest of his life, I’d have to stop working for him. That meant I’d have to look for a new job, all without health insurance and probably no references. And then there was the matter of my ever-growing loan problems.

Ninety thousand dollars debt!

I still had trouble wrapping my head around that part.

You’ll be repaying loans for the rest of your life, Stewart. That is, unless you start taking risks.

And this was indeed a risk, not just for my finances, but also for my confidence.

Confidence or not, I had no choice but to go through with the interview. If I didn’t try, I might end up living in a small, rented apartment forever, with no opportunity to offer my child the best life he or she could possibly have.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Thalia’s voice, meant to reassure, only managed to make me more nervous.

“I know.” I sighed, biting my thumbnail.

We took a left turn through yet another corridor and entered a door that led into a large hall. Pretty girls stood in clusters, waiting. Some were talking on their cell phones; some were sitting on the floor, all dressed in peach-colored, knee-length burlesque dresses and black high heels. For a waiting area, it was surprisingly silent.

Thalia waved to a few, then headed straight for a door and knocked. When a male voice called out, ordering her to enter, Thalia mouthed, “Wait here,” and slipped inside, then closed the door behind her. I pressed my back against the wall and tried hard not to overhear the hushed voices carrying through from inside. The seconds stretched into minutes. Finally, the door opened again and Thalia returned, looking slightly flushed.

“He’s waiting for you,” she whispered to me. “Good luck.”

I watched her join the other women, a part of me hoping someone would go in with me.

Get a grip, Stewart. You’re an adult. There’s nothing to be scared of.

Taking a deep breath, I started to count backwards.

Three.

Two.

One.

The door flew open, and I stepped back in shock.

“Aren’t you coming in?” he asked, knitting his eyebrows together.

I had been so immersed in my thoughts and worries that I had left my potential future boss waiting. For a moment, I stared into his eyes.

Holy cow.

Another arrogant guy.

Could my day get any worse?

I sounded bitter in my thoughts, I realized, already hating the whole male population when dating would soon become a perquisite—even a necessity—to distract me and help get me over my feelings for Jett.

“Sorry,” I muttered and rushed in, closing the door behind me.

“You still want to do the interview, right?” Grayson turned to regard me with an amused expression.

I stared at him, perplexed. “Yeah. Of course I do.”

Even though he was the owner of GR Photography and, according to Thalia, had been successful for a number of years, he didn’t look much older than thirty. His dirty blond hair was cropped short and messy in a sexy way, and he was dressed in jeans and a dark blue polo T-shirt that fit his tan body. Unlike Jett, he wasn’t all muscles and dark hair and green eyes, but he compensated in height. His blue eyes and scruffy beard gave him a stylish rock-star appearance and made him look rugged and masculine—and absolutely not the way I had envisioned him.

What the heck are you doing comparing this guy to Jett?

I groaned inwardly. At the rate I was going, I’d never get over Jett.

Never.

Because, apparently, I couldn’t stop fawning over Jett’s pair of sinfully sexy eyes and the kind of body that keeps you hot and sweaty at night.

Focus, Stewart. Focus. First, the job interview. Then the self-loathing.

His brows shot up. “Well?”

Damn.

Had I been so absorbed that I didn’t notice he had been waiting for me to introduce myself? Suppressing the urge to turn on my heels and run out the door to get back to my dark thoughts and dwell in the aftermath of the recent discoveries, I cleared my throat.

“Yes. I’m Br—” I took a deep breath, realizing my mistake. “Jenna.”

He shook my extended hand and sat down at his desk.

“Please take a seat.” He pointed to a chair that faced his desk and his blue eyes began to measure me up and down with the air of a professional.