Don’t Call Me Sweetheart (7 page)

“Hey,” Jag asked again, clearly frustrated. “What about that
model? Is she coming or not?”

“She was delayed in traffic. She called in by cell phone to
let the agency know where she was and they indicated we could expect her any
minute.”

The unmistakable clicking of high heels against a tiled
floor attested to the fact that “she” had arrived. Whitney was grateful for the
interruption since it gave her time to slip back to her chair unnoticed. Unnoticed,
that was, by everyone except the owner of passion-glazed obsidian eyes boldly
raking her retreating form.

A young woman entered the studio and crossed to where the
others were gathered. She was dressed in a mauve double-breasted suit, its
form-fitting short skirt showing off long curvaceous legs encased in silky
taupe stockings. Matching pumps with three inch heels elevated her trim frame
even more but still left her head well below the line of Christian’s shoulders
when she stopped to stand near him. Gold wireframe glasses perched across her
small nose, giving her an air of professionalism.

The model tossed her shoulder length, honey-blonde hair and
allowed her eyes to slide up and down Christian’s handsome form. “Well, if I
had known what was waiting for me, I would have moved heaven and earth to be
here earlier.”

“You should have anyway,” Tess interjected impatiently. “You’ve
already cost us quite a bit of money with your tardiness, so let’s see if we
can make up for lost time, shall we?”

Magically, people appeared from all directions to apply
makeup, put finishing touches on hair and make final adjustments to the set and
lights. Where had they been ten minutes ago? Whitney supposed it was just as
well that no one else had witnessed the way in which her willpower had crumbled
at the first touch of Christian’s hands.

Jag called for Christian and Charisse, the name the model
used to introduce herself, to take their places. He spent a few minutes
instructing the participants about the look he was after and filling the sultry
blonde in on the positions which would enhance both of their profiles to their
fullest.

At Jag’s direction Christian once again pulled a woman’s
soft body beneath his own, supporting her with his arms and placing his hand
beneath silky smooth hair. Once again he looked down into a beautiful upturned
face. He found himself searching. Searching Charisse’s features for something,
anything that would spark a response to surpass the overpowering urges he had
felt holding Whitney only moments before. Here was a woman who wouldn’t expect
more than she would get, a woman he wouldn’t feel the need to protect or care
for. He knew what to do with a woman like this. But her practiced embrace felt
alien after the sweetness of Whitney’s innocent surrender.

This time he was compelled to act, to put on a mask of
deception as he went through the motions of feigning an arousal far different
from the genuine reaction he had shared with Whitney. There was no pleasure to
be found with this woman, no sense of completeness like that which he had
discovered with a certain auburn-haired angel who, he knew, was at this moment
watching as he caressed another woman. If their roles were reversed, he wasn’t
sure he would be able to do the same.

Jag and his assistants were busy making changes in an effort
to achieve various effects, which left Tess free to stroll back to where
Whitney waited, fidgeting in her chair as Charisse enthusiastically threw
herself into her work.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

Whitney’s eyes narrowed unconsciously. “I was thinking that
she was the type who would probably do just about any trick a man could think
of for not much more than that penny you now owe me,” Whitney drawled. It
looked to her as if Charisse was enjoying her role a little more than was
necessary.

Tess laughed. “My, my. Perhaps I should warn that girl to
watch her back.”

Startled by Tess’ response to the uncharacteristic statement
she had just made, Whitney pulled her gaze away from the action and tried to smile
as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Not from me. I couldn’t care less what
they’re doing up there,” she countered airily, her eyes darting sideways to
watch the seductive blonde wiggle her bottom suggestively as she perched on
Christian’s lap.

Tess nearly choked with laughter, momentarily drawing the
attention of those working. She waved a hand their direction in apology and
turned to take a closer look at her friend.

“What exactly are you doing?” Whitney demanded as Tess
caught hold of her chin and turned her face from side to side, peering intently
at her.

“Looking to see if the green of your jealousy matches your
eyes.” She tried to suppress a giggle at the warning look Whitney shot her
direction but couldn’t.

“Jealous? What doI have to be jealous of?” Whitney
exclaimed.

“What indeed. Didn’t Christian kiss you like that too?”

“Tess, for heaven’s sake,” Whitney admonished tersely, her
dark lashes sweeping low across her pinked cheeks. She was too embarrassed to
meet her friend’s eyes but she knew she couldn’t look at Christian either. Not
if he was kissing Charisse.

Their chatter interrupted the flow of work again and this
time even Charisse stopped running her hands through Christian’s thick, black
hair long enough to glare at them. Jag was simply fed up with the constant
interruptions.

“Would you two mind keeping it quiet back there?”

“Okay, okay. We’ll make it easy on you,” Tess declared good-naturedly,
tugging on Whitney’s arm and pulling her toward the doors. “We’ll just take our
bothersome little butts next door for a cappuccino while you finish up.”

Agreeing that a change of scenery would do her frayed nerves
a world of good Whitney hurried to keep up with her friend but turned at the
door for one last look. Green eyes and black found each other momentarily
across the broad expanse of space and as she passed through the glass doors
leading away from the studio Whitney had the unmistakable feeling that the
owner of the other pair distinctly regretted seeing her go.

The two women settled themselves comfortably in a booth at
the small cafe next door and took their time deciding their coffee preferences.
After the waiter left to turn in their order Tess purposefully brought up the
subject Whitney had been hoping to avoid.

“Based on your behavior back there, can I assume that
Christian gets to bypass the usual battery of questions and move directly into
round two of the Whitney Lane Date Lineup?”

Whitney wondered if Tess had gone around kicking hornets’
nests when she was little. She was awfully good at stirring up trouble.

“No!” she answered forcefully, then looked away in
embarrassment as the waiter reappeared with two frothy cups of coffee, a
knowing smile playing across his face.

She grimaced at the idea that even a perfect stranger could
tell what she was thinking. Well, he can’t, Whitney told herself staunchly. Neither
did Tess. No one knew her secret.

I do. That man’s touch is waking up places inside me Jon
never knew were there. And people thought I was such an expert on these things.

“Methinks she doth protest overly much,” Tess quipped,
stirring the foam back and forth in her cup.

“I do not,” Whitney lamented weakly, adding no less than
four packets of sweetener to her coffee while Tess watched in amusement. “Well,
maybe I do, I don’t know. I haven’t known much about anything since the moment
I walked into the country club yesterday and met your Mr. Incredible. This is
all your fault. And don’t you think I’ll forget that little fact anytime soon.”

Tess raised her hands in mock horror. “Sure, I’m the worst
friend in the world. I introduce you to the best looking man on the planet, you
manage to end up with his lips plastered to yours the very next day and I’m the
one who needs to be worried?” She couldn’t go on, she was laughing too much.

“You should be worried,” Whitney persisted, refusing to
acknowledge the truth of Tess’ words, or just how easy the cold hard facts made
her look once they were laid out. “I think my next book will be an in-depth
portrayal of an oversexed, neurotic publishing queen obsessed with…”

“Okay, okay,” Tess cut it, holding her sides, “I get the
picture but I positively will not believe you if you tell me Christian isn’t
the best thing to come into your life since you made your first million.”

“That’s just it! He’s not
in
my life!”

“It looked as if he wanted into something back there,
sweetheart.”

“He was just acting, that’s what you were paying him to do,
right?”

“I’ve known that man most of my adult life, Whitney, so
believe me when I say he wasn’t acting.” Tess paused to lick a drop of froth
from the corner of her mouth. “What’s more, you know it too.”

Whitney refused to expose herself to that way of thinking. It
would hurt too much if Tess was wrong. “You saw how he was with that other
woman. It was exactly the same,” she pointed out smugly. “Are you telling me he’s
turned on by anything with cleavage?”

“Well, he was attracted to yours at any rate.” Tess answered
glibly, unwilling to let Whitney belittle herself. They were making such
progress. “Are you still going out this evening with him?”

The moment the photo session had begun Whitney had forgotten
about the tentative arrangements made for her yesterday, the same plans she had
intended to skip out on before the day had turned into such a fiasco. Now there
was no way she could go through with the plan considering what had passed
between her and Christian. She couldn’t imagine a more humiliating situation.

“Why, because he might kiss you again?”

Whitney mentally shushed the naughty voice that had sprung
unbidden out of nowhere. Aloud to Tess she replied, “Of course not. I never
planned to anyway.” Her answer came just a little too quickly for Tess to
believe she actually meant it.

“Okay. I suppose if you can’t make it and we know I never
have a free evening, we could probably talk Charisse into filling in for you at
the last minute. It looked as if she liked Christian well enough.”

Correction. It looked as if she wanted to devour Christian
piece by piece. Whitney had visions of the petite blonde flung across Christian’s
lap as they made their way about the city. With no one to give them directions,
she was certain the worldly model would improvise on a few new moves for
Christian’s pleasure.

But wouldn’t that be preferable to putting herself through
the ordeal of appearing with him herself? What if she lost control again? As
much as she hated to, she had to admit there was a possibility she might if he
turned those dark eyes her direction.

No, No, No, Whitney rationalized to herself emphatically. The
chances of that happening were nonexistent since he would have left his act
behind him at the studio. He wouldn’t be giving her any encouragement.

As if you really needed it.

If for no other reason than to prove to herself and that
aggravating little voice, that she could ignore Christian if she choose to,
Whitney made her decision. She would go. She had nothing to lose by going, as
long as she didn’t have to touch Christian. And she didn’t really want him to
think she was afraid of him, did she? This would be her chance to try to convince
him that she too had only been acting. That’s all.

But what about that look she had intercepted as she left? The
question brought the memory of black eyes flashing with intensity crashing
headlong into all her logically laid plans. A shiver sliced its way up her
spine.

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience her. Really.” Whitney
answered Tess’ dare at last, twisting a coppery curl around her finger, hoping
she didn’t sound as transparent as she felt. She paused to swallow a little of
her coffee, then added, “I guess it wouldn’t be that much of an imposition to
show him around, that is if you think he still wants to go?”

“I bet he’s banking on it,” Tess answered cryptically,
sending them both into a fit of laughter.

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly and before she
knew it, Whitney found herself back in the studio waiting for Christian to
finish changing his clothes after the others had left. As she sat and stared
once again at the door of his dressing room, trying not to image what was
happening behind those closed doors, she had second thoughts about her rash
decision. And third thoughts. And…

“Looks like we’ve been deserted,” Christian observed as he
stepped from the dressing room, his deep resounding voice reminding Whitney
that she shouldn’t be there. With him. Alone. The rest of the crew had left
nearly half an hour ago, with Tess and Jag following close behind. The studio
was silent except for the sound of quiet laughter echoing from an out-of-sight
office. It wasn’t fair to have a dream come true at the same time a nightmare
was preparing to unfold.

Hungry. That’s what she was. And the thought of food sounded
good too. Maybe, Whitney thought, she should ask Christian if he would like to
go eat. He read her mind.

“All that hard work has left me famished,” Christian said
lightly, trying to dispel any anxiety Whitney might be feeling. She was feeling
a lot. “I bet you are too, hanging around here all afternoon. Let’s see if we
can find a quiet restaurant where we can get to know each other a little
better.”

He settled his hand at the small of her back and gently
steered her out the door, obviously unwilling to take no for an answer. Heat
immediately began to radiate from the point where his fingers nestled against
her and Whitney had to turn her head so that Christian wouldn’t see how much
she was affected by his touch.

“If you want to wait inside, I’ll get a cab,” he continued,
stepping toward the front door.

Whitney spoke up at last, swallowing hard to push the words
past the boulder-sized lump formed in her throat. “That-that won’t be
necessary. Tess left with Jag and gave me the keys to her car, so we’re free to
go wherever we like.” Why couldn’t she treat him like she did any other date? Why
couldn’t she talk without sounding like a stuttering wallflower? And why were
her palms sweating?

“Oh.” Christian replied, pausing with his hand on the door
handle. “And where would you like to go?”

Whitney glanced shyly at the floor, then back at Christian. Had
there been a hint of suggestive innuendo in the seemingly innocent question?

“Well, if you like Italian I know a quiet little place that
makes the best scampi in the city.”

Christian winked at her and held out his hand for the keys.
“That sounds perfect! Just tell me which way.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense if I drove since I know where
the restaurant is located?” Whitney asked, logic finally replacing the
incoherent idiot who had been in charge of her emotions since the moment
Christian Dade’s path had crossed her own. Maybe she could get through this
night after all if she pretended she was talking to Tess rather than the most
prime specimen of manhood she had ever laid eyes on.

“No, I always drive,” was Christian’s equally illogical
answer.

“But we’ll never get there! This is New York City and you
don’t know…”

“I know I’m hungry and I’m getting hungrier by the minute,”
Christian announced firmly, plucking the keys from Whitney’s fingers.

“Fine, drive then,” Whitney answered, pasting on a perfect
Sunday school smile, while wondering if Christian was this arrogant about other
things as well. Was she beginning to see the real Christian Dade? She turned on
her heel and headed for the garage where Tess had parked the car and as she
passed Christian she flung over her shoulder, “But I started to say that you
don’t even know where the car is, or what it looks like.”

So the little kitten had claws, Christian noted as he
followed Whitney through the garage to the car. He wondered what would happen
if he rubbed her the wrong way. Or for that matter, what would happen if he
rubbed her the rightway.

With as much grace as she could muster Whitney waited beside
the passenger side, trying not to look annoyed, as Christian unlocked the door
and held it open for her. Within minutes of giving him directions they were
speeding toward the freeway. Christian took to New York City driving faster
than anyone Whitney had ever met. It was almost as if he had been there before.
But if that were true, he wouldn’t need an escort about town, would he?

“When was the last time you were in New York?” she asked
innocently, hoping to catch him off guard. If this was another one of Tess’
setups, she wanted out right now.

“I’ve never been here before but I’ve certainly enjoyed my
stay so far. Wouldn’t want to live here but it’s nice for a change of pace,”
Christian replied, glancing at Whitney’s profile as they were swept along in
the flow of traffic.

“It sounds as if you won’t be here long then,” Whitney
continued, surprised how easy it was becoming to carry on a conversation once
she was willing to look at Christian as a human being with flaws instead of the
perfect dream lover.

“Actually, I only plan to stay until I complete my objective,”
Christian replied, pausing to change lanes, then he added, “In case I never get
the opportunity to thank her personally, you’ll have to let Lane know how much
I appreciate the chance to appear on her cover.”

“I’m pretty sure she already knows how you feel,” Whitney
answered evasively, keeping her eyes trained on the passing city lights.

“I’m curious about something,” Christian went on, unaware
that he was beginning to tread on dangerous ground. “Are the kind of books she
writes really all that popular? It seems to me that there’s not much to them
except one bedroom scene after another.”

Whitney whirled back toward him, unable to believe that her
precious stories were being disparaged by someone willing to pose for the cover
of her book but who questioned the content.

“Have you actually read one?” Her quiet voice took on an icy
tone that Christian couldn’t help but notice.

The look he flashed Whitney said that he noticed all right
and he was going to have a hell of a lot of fun ruffling her feathers over it.

“I flipped through a few after Tess offered me this
assignment, just to get an idea of what they were about. I started wondering
what sort of woman would write that stuff, no offense to your boss,” he added
in a voice that said he didn’t really mean it.

My employer might not take any but I damn well do,
she
thought.

“It just seems,” he went on, his deep voice cutting through
Whitney’s rapidly rising fury, “that she doesn’t have much respect for herself,
or her readers, if she’s unable to deliver anything more substantial.

“There’s a lot more to a relationship than just sex. I won’t
say it’s not the best part but deep down a guy knows there has to be more to it
than that.”

Without thinking twice Whitney retorted angrily, “If it
weren’t for the sex appeal of her books, there wouldn’t be a need for
muscle-bound machines like you to flaunt yourselves on the covers. And if you
had cared to read an entire book instead of just thumbing through it looking
for the juicy parts you would have noticed that they are written entirely about
relationships and the sex that is described is just one part of the whole. Next
time maybe you should think before you speak and you might, just might, realize
that it isn’t smart to criticize something you obviously know so little about!”

She wasn’t exactly sure where that had come from but as
steely black eyes swung around and locked with her own, which she refused to
flinch. All traces of amusement disappeared from Christian’s features but
Whitney didn’t care. He had no right to condemn her, or her talent, even if he
was unaware that they were actually talking about her. The evening was going
downhill fast. So much for all that needless worry about falling hopelessly
back into his arms.

“I see,” Christian answered slowly, his voice taking on a
decidedly cold tone that rivaled Whitney’s. “My apologies, Miss Lane. As I said
earlier, I am immensely grateful to the author, I just have reservations about
her choice of subject.”

Christian couldn’t be sure why he had purposefully followed
this line of conversation but he had been having more fun than he had for a
long time teasing the beautiful redhead and watching the soft flushes staining
her cheeks as her frustration grew. When she began questioning his motives
though, she had managed to press the wrong emotional button. He had been
consumed with anger for weeks, an anger which he had worked doggedly to keep
hidden from those near to him. It was exhausting work and right now, staring at
Whitney’s soft lips pursed with determination, Christian realized he was
spoiling for a good fight. And Whitney was willing to oblige.

“It would seem to methat for someone possessing such
immensely honorable reservations, you should spend some time re-evaluating your
own recent career choice, rather than judging those of someone you don’t even
know,” she retorted hotly.

Damn her green eyes. She might be sweet temptation at the
moment but she was also getting under his skin more than he wanted to admit. Christian
cursed under his breath. His own temper, never far from the surface these days,
flared at her strong words of admonishment and he found himself saying things
he knew he would regret later.

“I don’t have to meet her to know her type,” he retorted
coldly, knowing the words would hit home. “She writes what sells and what sells
better than sex? Those poor women who shell out their husband’s hard-earned
money for those kinds of books are just buying into a lie.”

“That proves you really don’t know anything about Lane, or
authors like her,” Whitney ground out between clenched teeth as they pulled
into the parking lot of the restaurant. The man obviously had no problem
breaching boundaries. How dare he insinuate such an archaic notion. Her readers
were incredibly independent women, capable of deciding when, and on what, to
spend their money. No matter who brought home the paycheck.

Christian snapped off the ignition and stared into Whitney’s
stormy face. He noted the angry rise and fall of her breasts, punctuated by her
agitated breathing. He had let things go too far. A good fight was one thing
but he wasn’t ready to burn his bridges with this tempting little angel over
romance novels.

He closed his eyes and tried to rein in his racing emotions,
giving Whitney the chance to do the same. When he opened them again, he drew a
ragged breath to clear his head and started to apologize. He never stood a
chance.

“I don’t seem to have much of an appetite any longer, Mr.
Dade.” Whitney’s beautiful green eyes had turned to emerald ice. “I think you
should just get a taxi. Now.”

Christian might have been prepared to call a truce but
clearly Lane McLaughlin’s assistant wasn’t. Every delicious curve of her body
was screaming defiance, challenging him to contradict her. Fine. He wasn’t even
sure why she was so damned mad. Good judgment and sanity were quickly shoved
aside as his combative nature took over, fueled by weeks of simmering anger. If
she wanted something to be angry about, he’d make sure she had a good reason.

Suddenly Whitney found herself crushed against Christian’s
chest as he pulled her from her seat and held her pinned across his lap. Her
mouth was claimed hungrily as his swooped down in a ravishing, searching kiss
that was both punishment and pleasure. She tried, unsuccessfully, to withstand
his torrid tongue as it sought entry into the soft recesses of her mouth. He
explored, tasted, awakened. Whitney struggled in desperation, pushing wildly
against Christian as her traitorous body began to respond within his embrace
all over again just as it had each time he touched her.

She warmed to the searing passion of Christian’s burning
kisses despite every attempt at self-control. Unable to stop herself, she met
Christian’s thrusting tongue with tentative explorations of her own and was
immediately rewarded with a low growl of pent-up passion, as he rained even
more demanding kisses across her brows, her eyelids and her flushed cheeks. Christian’s
mouth was everywhere, branding Whitney’s as his own. Two strong hands, no
longer needed to still her struggles, drew Whitney’s face upward so that the
assault on her bruised lips could continue at a more leisurely pace.

Whitney slipped one hand around Christian’s neck, thrilling
at the raw strength she felt beneath her fingertips. Her other hand found its
way into his thick mane of hair, luxuriating in the softness as she twined her
fingers slowly through the sable softness. She was lost to the fiery feelings
Christian was awakening within her. With each touch, each caress, she was drawn
deeper into the web of desire that had begun to wrap its silky strands around
the two of them from the first moment they had met. She had been so angry at
him but she couldn’t remember why anymore. As Christian’s stroking hand found
and encircled the soft outline of her breast beneath the confines of her blouse
Whitney jumped in response to the newest sensation, murmuring a weak protest. Softly
whispered reassurances from Christian and the continued intimate kneading of
his hand played havoc with her reeling senses. She tried to gather her jumbled
thoughts but it was impossible to concentrate on anything other than the hot,
moist lips pressed against the ivory column of her neck and the strong fingers
tracing the hardness of first one taut nipple, then the other.

When the intimate exploration led Christian’s hand lower to
the soft curve of her hip and Whitney felt him possessively cup the swell of
her bottom she knew she had to put a stop to what was happening. With renewed
strength she surged away from him, desperate to put as much distance between
them as the compact car would allow, before she lost complete control of her
senses.

“Whitney, angel,” Christian began, his deep voice husky with
passion. He reached to draw her back.

“Don’t. Touch. Me. Again.” Whitney’s great, green eyes
stabbed him with accusation, laying the blame for her behavior irrationally at
his feet. “You had no right to do that.”

His eyes still glazed with passion, Christian shifted
reluctantly so that Whitney could slide back into her seat. She didn’t waste a
moment.