Focus of Desire

  Synopsis

  There are times when a picture doesn't just say it all - it changes everything. Isabel Sterling isn't even aware she has been entered in the Sophisticated Women 'Watch Your Dreams Come True' contest, so it comes as a complete surprise to learn she has won not only a makeover she doesn't want or need, but also the chance to appear on the cover of a national magazine and an all expense paid trip for two to exotic locales. Photographer Natasha Kashnikova is a cynical celebrity playgirl who is barreling toward full, midlife-crisis mode when she agrees to take on the Sophisticated Women shoot as a favor for a friend. Kash is convinced that every woman who shows an interest in her has ulterior motives, so love is not on her agenda—and certainly not with some naive romantic during an assignment from Hell.

  Focus of Desire

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  Focus of Desire

  © 2007 By Kim Baldwin. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-319-8

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.,

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Printing: October 2007

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editors: Shelley Thrasher and Stacia Seaman

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design By Sheri (GraphicArtist2020@hotmail.com)

  By the Author

  Hunter’s Pursuit

  Force of Nature

  Whitewater Rendezvous

  Flight Risk

  Focus of Desire

  Breaking the Ice

  With Xenia Alexiou

  Lethal Affairs

  Thief of Always

  Missing Lynx

  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost, I must thank the cherished circle of friends who provide me with unfiagging encouragement and support for everything I write. Linda and Vicki, Kat and Ed, Marsha and Ellen, Cousin Tim, and Felicity, the Queen of All Things.

  Thanks also to my wonderfully insightful and meticulous beta readers, Sharon Lloyd, co-owner of Epilogue Books, and Connie Ward. I look forward to your help on many future projects.

  I am deeply indebted to Lieutenant Sue Erickson, a professional firefighter and emergency medical technician for over twenty years, and to Scott Lakin, RN and former volunteer firefighter, for their invaluable help in lending authenticity to the fire and medical scenes.

  Many thanks to Sheri, whose artistic wizardry once again produced a cover that truly refiects the spirit of the story inside.

  My heartfelt appreciation to my editors, Jennifer Knight and Stacia Seaman, for such a rich and rewarding learning experience and for the expert technical advice. Your contribution to this book cannot be measured.

  And most especially, my profound gratitude goes to Radclyffe and Lee, the forces behind Bold Strokes Books. I cannot imagine a more nurturing environment for an author to be blessed with.

  Force of Nature was written with deep respect and appreciation for the women and men who daily put their lives on the line to protect and serve their communities as firefighters.

  It is dedicated with all my love to my partner, M., my inspiration for Gable and the kindest, most giving individual I‘ve ever had the privilege to know. You have taught me the importance of living a life of character and purpose. And by your example, you encourage all those around you to be the very best individuals they can possibly be. Every word I write, I write for you. Now and always.

  Dedication

  For M.

  Grádh geal mo chridh’

  Chapter One

  New York City

  October

  Natasha Kashnikova wouldn’t ordinarily have given the model a second glance. She favored blondes, and three delicious specimens were currently being made up there in her Manhattan studio for the cosmetics ad shoot, so chances were excellent she could have one or more of them later. But it was the short-haired brunette who caught her attention when she arrived wearing a sexy black minidress that looked like something a dominatrix might wear. Well, aren’t you just yummy?

  “Hello, Kash. I’m Fawn, and I am very happy to meet you.”

  Fawn squeezed the hand Kash held out, prolonging the contact. She was young—probably nineteen or twenty—and short for a model, only five-six or so, but her classically beautiful face and flawless complexion had obviously won her this opportunity. And that smile. I bet you’ve practiced it in the mirror more than a few times. Showcasing her full, rosy lips and perfect teeth, her smile oozed naughty sensuality and was guaranteed to sell a lot of lipstick.

  Fawn released her finally, but maintained the smile and seriously direct eye contact as she took a deliberate step closer. “I can’t tell you how thrilled and excited I am to finally get the chance to work under you.”

  Kash made her choice, but decided to let this one sweat a while before she acknowledged her acceptance. “Pleased to meet you, Fawn.” She gestured toward the blondes, who were in the corner of her spacious loft studio. “If you’ll join the others, we’ll start soon.”

  Only a fleeting glance of disappointment passed over the brunette’s face, enough for Kash to notice, but not so much as to appear unprofessional. “Of course.”

  The assignment was a breeze—two or three hours’ work with four beautiful women. She took this kind of job almost exclusively these days because she made good money and invested little time, and also enjoyed an endless supply of beautiful sex partners.

  She took the group shots first, then did the blondes individually, saving the brunette for last. Even after they were alone she remained all business, not because of any professional ethics but because the distance would enhance the moment when she let the model know she would get what she wanted.

  Night fell as they finished the shoot, and the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Central Park became mirrors in which Kash glimpsed herself in her low-cut black jeans and snug black T-shirt, her apparel of choice most days. She had begun to avoid her reflection lately because she could no longer ignore the small lines by her eyes and mouth and between her eyebrows. But the likeness in the window was kind, erasing the last decade of hard play and making her appear thirty again.

  The layered, collar-length cut of her medium brown hair complemented her androgyny. Her face was strong, almost masculine, but full, feminine lips and long eyelashes over soft hazel eyes balanced her square jaw and chiseled features. Her enviable metabolism gave her the same lean, taut frame at nearly forty that she’d had two decades earlier.

  “I think we’re done.” Kash wasn’t surprised that Fawn didn’t budge from her stool, even when she started turning off the lights that illuminated her from three sides.

  “Before I leave I want to make sure that I’ve impressed you enough that I get to work with you again,” Fawn said.

  “Well, I know you can follow directions very well.” Kash knelt to stow her cameras and lenses carefully in their bags. “That’s very important.”

  “Oh, yes. You tell me what to do, and I’m there.” The model slipped off the stool and approached Kash slowly, stopping only a couple of feet away.

  “And I have to say your dress has
made a favorable impression,” Kash added as she stood and, for the first time, gave Fawn the benefit of an open, appreciative head-to-toe appraisal. “Is it meant to make a statement?”

  “Let’s say it was intended to get your attention,” she replied, smiling that naughty bedroom smile.

  “Attention or reaction?” Kash slowly circled the model to drink in the dress from every angle.

  “Both.”

  “Then it’s certainly done the trick.” She let her gaze linger on the high, tight ass. The sheer, clingy fabric made it clear that Fawn wore nothing underneath. Nice. Very nice. She felt a sharp twitch low in her belly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the design of this dress…” She feathered her hand over the large X the straps created on the silky skin of the model’s back.

  “Lets you know I like to play?” Fawn slowly faced her.

  Kash stepped forward so that their bodies almost touched. “So, what’s your game?”

  Fawn didn’t answer immediately. Instead she started to stroke Kash’s face, but Kash intercepted her before she could and grasped her wrist firmly. Then she pinned both of the girl’s hands behind her back and spoke into her ear. “Is this your game?”

  Kash could feel her tremble as she nodded.

  “Nothing too rough,” Fawn whispered.

  The spasm in Kash’s belly became a steady throb. “Keep your hands right there.”

  She removed the long, silky scarf from Fawn’s neck, tied it around her eyes, and smiled at her sharp intake of breath. Then she held Fawn’s wrists behind her again while she kissed her neck, her shoulders, and the exposed skin of her back. Lightly at first, making her want more. Soon the kisses became bites. Not too hard, nothing to leave marks around that million-dollar face, but enough to elicit the first moans of excitement.

  Glancing around the sparsely furnished loft, Kash dismissed the couch and half dozen comfortable chairs. The coffee table that held a tidy stack of recent magazines wouldn’t do either. Her photo backdrops, lighting equipment, and a couple of sturdy stools filled the other side of the large loft, and her glass-and-chrome desk, crowded with papers and photos in neat piles, stood at the back. None of these were appropriate. She even considered the sink in the bathroom off to the left, and the other one, in her darkroom, next to it. But the last time she’d tried using a sink for something like this, it had broken off the wall right as the woman she was fucking was getting there, and both of them had gotten soaked.

  No, the big off-white easy chair was the right choice today, she decided, visually gauging Fawn’s height against it. She led the model over and stopped beside the waist-high, padded back. Perfect.

  “Put your hands here. That’s right.”

  Once Fawn had braced herself on the chair, Kash pressed down on her back until she was bent forward over it, invitingly poised.

  She ran her hands down the model’s sides to her hips and thighs, rewarded with more breathy moans, and when she reached the hem of the minidress and lifted it up to expose the firm, round ass, Fawn gasped and held her breath.

  Kash put one of her legs between the girl’s and used it to spread her thighs farther apart, opening her up. “Don’t move.” The model trembled again, and her hips swayed and rocked, clearly seeking some kind of direct stimulation. As Kash stepped back to admire the view, she unzipped her jeans and shoved her hand inside, quickly stroking her clit.

  Whether it was her own arousal or the model’s scent didn’t matter. She knelt and positioned herself behind and beneath Fawn, and as she tasted the wetness, she wrapped her hands around the model’s thighs, now fully controlling the amount and depth of contact.

  Fawn’s moans grew louder, intermingled with groans and sighs, and Kash held fast as the girl writhed.

  “Fuck, that feels good,” Fawn managed shakily. “Much more and you’ll make me come.”

  Kash knew it was true; the girl was incredibly wet, and her clit was swollen and ready. She teased her with a few more strokes of her tongue, but stopped short of satisfaction. When she took her mouth away and stood, Fawn blew out a long, shaky breath of disappointment, but said nothing.

  Abruptly, Kash thrust her pelvis against the model’s ass and grabbed a fistful of her short hair. Fawn cried out and powered her hips back against Kash—hard, demanding.

  “You want it so much.” Kash wedged her hand between their bodies and pushed into her, penetrating her hard and deep, then began a hard, driving rhythm that matched the urgent pistoning of Fawn’s hips.

  The shrill ringing of her phone startled them both, but Kash barely paused. After three rings, the answering machine picked up, and a woman’s voice came on after Kash’s recorded greeting.

  “I know you’re there, Kash.”

  Fuck. Miranda. She didn’t stop, but her distraction slowed her strokes.

  “I’m waiting. And I’m going to keep talking until you pick up. Tell me, is she blond? Should I be jealous?”

  At this remark, the model stiffened and turned her head toward Kash, but didn’t take the blindfold off.

  “Aw, damn. Stay there. Ignore that.” Kash withdrew her hand and headed for the phone on a small table two feet away as the voice continued.

  “And on our anniversary? You’re screwing around while I’m waiting for you on our anniversary?”

  As Kash snatched up the phone, she glanced at Fawn. She had straightened, but still hadn’t removed the blindfold, though it was clear from her posture and uncertain expression that she was thinking about it.

  “Damn it, Miranda. Not funny!”

  The sound of laughter answered her. “You are so predictable, Kash.”

  “Let me call you back.” Kash put her hand over the receiver and tried to head off a premature end to the evening’s festivities. “Sorry, Fawn, I’ll be right with you.”

  The model nodded, but Kash could tell from her restless fidgeting that she was ready to bolt.

  “Hey, you’re the one who told me this would be a good time to phone, and what I have to say will only take a couple of minutes,” Miranda said. “I’m about to catch a flight to L.A., so I can’t call you back.”

  Kash sighed. “All right. What’s up?”

  “I’m begging a favor. And before you say no, let me remind you that you still owe me big time for hitting on Stef. Consider this your requisite payback.”

  “Hey, come on with that already. I didn’t know you were together,” Kash argued, but she knew it was futile. It had been ten months since she had propositioned Miranda’s girlfriend at a Christmas party, but her friend hadn’t let her forget it.

  “You would have known if you’d asked her name or whether she was available before you started describing in detail what you wanted to do to her,” Miranda replied. “This is what you get for being the cad that we both know you are.”

  “What do I get?” Kash braced herself. Miranda had waited a long time to collect on her faux pas, so this had to be good.

  “We’re going to run a contest for Sophisticated Women, and I want you to photograph the winner for our October cover.”

  Miranda Claridge published Sophisticated Women, a glossy magazine she liked to claim showed up Vogue for nothing but shallow advertorial with pretty pictures. Miranda took her magazine seriously. Sophisticated Women covered all the usual bases—makeup, relationship, and career advice—but she also assumed chic urban women had brains and wanted in-depth articles as well. Even her international fashion spreads often included what Kash called “the conscience quota”—inserts on worthy local charities for maimed children, or whatever else had tugged Miranda’s usually impervious heartstrings.

  “What’s the catch?” Kash cut to the chase, wanting to get back to Fawn. She knew if this was a routine cover shoot, Miranda would not be collecting the debt she owed.

  “Well, you’re also going to photograph her while she takes the dream vacation she wins.”

  “Vacation?” Kash glanced over at Fawn. She had pulled her dress back down. Damn. She had to wrap
this conversation up quickly. “That sounds like it involves travel and time. How long, and how far?”

  “Think of it as a vacation for you, too,” Miranda coaxed. “Business class and four- and five-star hotels all the way, of course.”

  “Don’t be sparse with the details, Miranda.” Kash watched Fawn take the blindfold off. Shit. Her face said I’m feeling pretty uncomfortable. “Spell it out. I’m busy.”

  “Three weeks, late June into July. Since I’m giving you almost nine months’ notice, you can’t pretend your schedule is full.”

  “Three weeks?”

  “The trip will really be fabulous, Kash. Four days each in Paris, Rome, and Cairo, and then a week in the Bahamas. Easy photo ops. You’ll get lots of free time to explore all the nightlife. Please? Your name attached to this will be a huge plus.”

  Under ordinary circumstances, Kash would never have agreed to any assignment that required that kind of time commitment. But she did owe Miranda, and now Miranda would owe her back. And the itinerary was certainly tempting. Truth be told, she was restless for a change of scenery and a shakeup in the status quo. This constant diet of narcissistic and ambitious airheads had gotten kind of stale.

  When Fawn shrugged and tentatively waved good-bye, Kash made a fast decision.

  “Okay, Miranda. We’ll negotiate the fine print when you get back from L.A. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  Kash didn’t wait for a response. She slammed down the phone and caught the model as she turned for the door.

  “Leaving so soon? Now you know I’ll reward you with something extra special for your patience, don’t you, Fawn?”

  Madison, Wisconsin

  Five months later