Focus of Desire Page 4

  Gillian stuck out her hand. “Hi, Kash. I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

  Kash was a bit taken aback by the unmistakable flirtation in the redhead’s eyes and tone of voice. Gay, yes. But Miranda was either mistaken about them being a couple or it’s certainly not an exclusive arrangement. Redheads were normally not her thing, but there were always exceptions to the rule. This one was a willing piece of eye candy, and if Miranda was right about the other being a cute blonde with a nice body, then a threesome might be on the horizon.

  She took Gillian’s hand firmly and let her grip linger. Flashes went off, reminding her that her every move was being watched. “Nice to meet you, Gillian. Sounds like it’s going to be a great trip. So…” She let go of Gillian and turned to Miranda. “Where’s the big winner?”

  “She got a bad case of nerves,” Gillian answered, “when she saw all the photographers. Needed to collect herself. She’ll be here in a minute.”

  Right on cue, a sudden stir of activity at the entrance to the conference room made everyone turn to see what was happening.

  *

  Isabel exited the ladies’ room and tried to ignore the tympanic thump thump thump of her runaway heart. When she and Gillian had stepped off the elevator into a blinding crush of photographers, all focused on her and all blocking their way into the conference room, the restroom had been the nearest refuge. But the news conference was supposed to be starting, and she couldn’t hide out forever.

  She briefly dared to hope the photographers might be kinder this time because they didn’t go crazy when she rounded the final corner. There were only a few flashes until she got close, then all at once a bedlam of light hit her again.

  She pushed on toward the conference room door, blinking back the stars on her eyelids. The last thing she remembered thinking was I know the door was right there.

  But it wasn’t there, because a reporter on the other side had pulled it open, so she met only thin air instead of thick oak. She crashed headfirst.

  Kash glimpsed the blonde before she went down and was obscured by a crush of photographers. The ensuing barrage of flashes lit up the room.

  Miranda and Gillian tied in their race to reach the grand-prize winner. Kash hung back, not anxious to be at the center of the maelstrom.

  “Let’s give her some air, can we, please?” Miranda’s voice carried over the hubbub of reporter questions.

  “Is that the winner?”

  “What happened?”

  “What is she, drunk or something?”

  Kash’s curiosity propelled her forward. She worked her way through the crush of people, horrified to find…her. Christ. No.

  It was the blond mystery girl from the other day. Disaster Girl, as Kash had come to think of her.

  The woman seemed a little dazed. She had her head in Gillian’s lap.

  “Come on, Izzy,” Gillian was saying. “Please be okay. Now is not the time.”

  Kash glowered at Miranda. “I can’t possibly owe you this big.”

  The comment turned all the cameras back onto Kash, and she was instantly blinded.

  “What does that mean?” one of the reporters asked.

  “Yeah, explain that,” another chimed in. “Why do you owe her? And what does that have to do with—”

  The blonde moaned, and the cameras all shifted again to photograph the action.

  “What?” Isabel said groggily. “What’s happening?”

  “Press conference,” Gillian volunteered. “I think you tripped.”

  Of course she did, Kash thought. Izzy, huh? Dizzy Izzy is more like it. What the hell did I do to deserve this? She thought of the thousands of dollars of photographic equipment she had packed for this adventure and was suddenly very glad she had insurance.

  “Come on, guys, give her a break, huh?” Miranda’s voice betrayed her irritation with the way her long-awaited press conference was going. She bent over her grand-prize winner. “Are you all right, Miss Sterling? Should I call an ambulance?”

  It took Isabel a few more seconds to fully grasp that this was indeed her worst nightmare come to life. Yes, she was really sprawled on the floor of the Sophisticated Women conference room. And those actually were camera flashes preserving every single second of her total humiliation. At least, thank God, she had worn the black dress trousers with her pale lavender shell, and not the short skirt that Gillian had tried to talk her into. Why the heck did I ever agree to this?

  Just when she thought it couldn’t possibly get worse, she spotted…her.

  Kash was staring down at her as if she had grown another head.

  Oh, how she wished it was possible to disappear at will. She could feel her cheeks blaze from embarrassment. “I’m fine.” She swatted away Gillian’s comforting embrace and tried to get to her feet.

  A strong hand took her elbow and helped her up, and she was suddenly nearly nose to nose with Kash.

  Surprised by the unexpected chivalry, she stared at the photographer until Miranda took each of them by the arm and turned them toward the podium.

  En route, Miranda made hurried introductions. “Kash, Isabel Sterling…Isabel, meet Kash.”

  “Charmed, I’m sure,” Kash said, with only the tiniest measure of sarcasm.

  Isabel caught it and saw Kash roll her eyes as she said it. Oh, great. “Sorry about the other day, Kash. I’d be happy to pay for any damages.”

  They were at the podium before Kash could respond, but Isabel noticed her expression soften into one of perhaps regret.

  Miranda glanced from one to the other as she pulled over a chair and got Isabel settled comfortably into it. “Are you able to proceed now, or should I cancel?” Miranda asked in a low voice as the gathered media began to take seats.

  “You sure you’re not hurt?” Gillian asked almost simultaneously.

  “I said I’m fine.” Jesus, I will never live this one down. Isabel took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself as she brushed carpet duff off her trousers. “And yes, please,” she said to Miranda. “Let’s go on and get this press conference over with and maybe they’ll find this more newsworthy than…well, I mean…it was an accident,” she added. “How can anyone see where they’re going with all those flashes right in their face?”

  “It wasn’t so bad, Izzy,” Gillian tried to console her. “Maybe they won’t use those photos.”

  “Unfortunately, they’ll probably be on the front page of at least a couple of rags by the end of the week,” Kash said. “And all over the Internet before that. Unconscious ranks right up there with nude, caught cheating, and drunk—in terms of popularity with the tabloids.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Isabel sighed dejectedly. “You’re a big help.”

  “Ladies,” Miranda cut in, “should I remind you we have people with high-powered microphones behind us?”

  “’Course, it’s possible that someone famous will crash and burn and knock you off the front page,” Kash whispered. “But I’m not volunteering.”

  Isabel smiled, and the change aroused the artist in Kash. She studied the young woman’s face. Perfect imbalance. That’s what gives your face character. Isabel had an almost ideal, movie-star smile, marred only by a crooked tooth left of center. The smile raised a dimple in her cheek on the same side, and the combined effect of the two gave her face an appealing asymmetry.

  Miranda took the podium. She talked about the contest, the entries, the prizes, and then laid out their itinerary.

  “From here, a limo will take Miss Sterling to Kash’s studio, here in Manhattan, for some ‘before’ pictures to begin the story of her Sophisticated Women makeover.”

  Kash could tell from the sudden reddening of Isabel’s face that she was remembering her previous visit two days earlier. What a train wreck. I wonder what was she doing there?

  “Then it’s off to the airport to begin their three-week dream vacation. First stop—Paris!” Miranda folded back part of the drape concealing the poster at the front of the room, reveali
ng a montage of Parisian attractions. “After four days in the City of Lights, it’s on to…Rome, the Eternal City!” Another montage was uncovered.

  Isabel’s shame faded as her destinations were revealed, humiliation replaced at least for now by excitement. She had yearned to travel since she was a child, but had never had the money to see much of the U.S., let alone Europe.

  “Wow, Izzy. Paris and Rome!” Gillian whispered.

  “Yeah,” Isabel whispered back. “They’re both on my top-ten list, for sure. I mean, the Eiffel Tower, Gill. The Louvre. The Vatican!”

  “From Rome the lucky winner flies to Cairo, Egypt,” Miranda was saying, “Land of the Pharaohs.”

  “Egypt!” Gillian squealed in delight.

  “Oh, Gill.” Isabel gasped at the photos. “How beautiful!” This is way too cool.

  “And finally,” Miranda concluded with a flourish, revealing the last of the poster, “it’s westward to the Caribbean, for a full week of warm beaches and the lush nature preserves of the Grand Bahamas.”

  “Bikinis!” Gillian bounced up and down on her seat in delight. “Ooh. Told you. How great is this? We’re going to have such a blast!”

  Gillian’s excitement was contagious, and for an instant, Isabel forgot all about her embarrassment with Kash and even about the photographs of her sprawled out on the floor. She was about to experience some of the cities she had long dreamed about—in style, no less—and with her best friend. Yup. Gillian’s right. We’re going to have a blast.

  Her optimistic musings were tempered somewhat, however, when Miranda called Kash to the podium.

  “I’m thrilled to be taking part in this adventure with the lucky contest winner,” Kash began. “I know we’re going to have a lot of fun together.” Her pleased expression appeared to be genuine, even to Isabel, who knew better. She sure can lie with a straight face.

  Several reporters started shouting questions at Kash at once, most of which concerned her private life instead of the contest. Isabel was astounded at the audacity of some of them. “Who you seeing these days, Kash?” “Or sleeping with?” “Care to explain that comment earlier, about you owing Ms. Claridge?” “Is it true you were pulled over in Malibu last week for drunk driving?” “Do you have a response to that online report you’re being sued by some actress’s husband who claims you ruined their marriage?”

  Kash ignored the questions and kept a faint smile in place as she stepped back from the podium, and Miranda once again addressed the media. “Let’s remember why we’re here, please? And now I’d like to introduce the lucky winner of our Make Your Dreams Come True contest—from Madison, Wisconsin…Isabel Sterling.”

  After witnessing the media’s treatment of Kash, Isabel walked to the podium on somewhat shaky legs. She had been nervous enough before she’d tripped. Now she was terrified. She generally was comfortable speaking before small groups, but she’d never faced vultures like this, who fed on personal information. That’s what they struck her as. Poised and circling, waiting for any show of vulnerability.

  Before she could open her mouth, they barraged her. “What happened when you came in? Did you pass out?” “Are you pregnant?” “Have you been drinking?” “What is the relationship between you and this woman you’re taking on the trip? Is that her?” “Yeah. Are you gay?”

  “No, I wasn’t drinking…uh…well, your flashes…” Isabel stuttered badly, feeling like a bug being fried in the noonday sun under a bully’s magnifying glass.

  “Please.” Miranda gently pulled Isabel away from the microphone and interceded. “If you don’t keep to polite questions, I won’t make Miss Sterling available at all.”

  The reporters backed off and Isabel suffered through a few basic questions. What she did for a living and how she had won. Gillian answered that one for her. Then the inevitable questions about her marital status, age, hometown.

  Miranda interceded whenever a query got too personal and, after only a couple of minutes, stepped in and announced the end of the press conference. She told the reporters they would have to buy the October issue of the magazine to hear the rest of the story.

  The media filed out and left them alone.

  “Well, that was a rather inauspicious start to your adventure.” Miranda frowned apologetically at Isabel. “They’re like sharks when things don’t go as planned, I’m afraid.”

  “Gossip sells, unfortunately,” Kash agreed. “Especially photos where you lose your temper or do something foolish.”

  “I couldn’t believe the nerve of some of those questions,” Gillian said.

  “Well, the worst is over now.” Miranda smiled encouragingly at Isabel and Gillian. “And it’s time for the fun to begin. The limo is waiting downstairs with your itinerary and tickets. You have two hours for your shoot with Kash before you all have to head for the airport.”

  Isabel glanced at Kash, who was watching her with a neutral expression. For the first time, she noticed Kash’s hazel eyes. God, she has the most incredibly long lashes. They could almost be fake. But she sure doesn’t seem the type to wear false eyelashes.

  Isabel wasn’t quite sure what to make of Kash. She had certainly just gotten a vivid idea of how reporters could invent things about someone—anything to feed the hungry tabloid gossip machine. Maybe she doesn’t deserve quite all of that racy reputation. I should keep an open mind.

  *

  Kash waited until they were alone in Miranda’s office to relay the story of Isabel’s visit to her studio. By the time she finished describing the aftermath of their disastrous encounter, Miranda had tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Oh, that’s rich,” Miranda said. “Sounds like you’re in store for an interesting three weeks with this one. I wondered what was going on when I introduced you.”

  “I have to tell you, Miranda, I’ll live up to my part of the deal.” Kash picked up her camera bag and slung it over her shoulder. “I’ll get you a nice variety of photos for the spread. But don’t expect me to hang with Disaster Girl twenty-four/seven. Not happening.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find plenty of time to do your own thing and still give me what I want,” Miranda said as they headed for the elevators. “But be nice, huh? Granted, I only had a few minutes to chat with her, but she struck me as a really sweet woman, Kash. Might give her another chance.”

  “If we can get through the next hour without her destroying all my replacement lights, I’ll consider it,” Kash said. “But I make no guarantees.”

  *

  “That press conference certainly couldn’t have gone much worse.” Isabel took a long swallow of the champagne that had been waiting on ice in the limo.

  “Oh, come on,” Gillian replied, pouring her own glass. “They’ll forget about you tomorrow. Where’s that eternal optimist I know and love? Here we are—about to take this fabulous trip, sitting in a limo drinking champagne, you, with a check for ten grand in your pocket—and you’re bitching?”

  Isabel let the words sink in. “You’re absolutely right.” She raised her glass and waited for Gillian to do the same. “Here’s to a memorably fabulous adventure, and to making sure nothing keeps us from enjoying every single solitary second.”

  “I will definitely drink to that.”

  They clinked glasses as the door to the limo opened. Kash slipped into the seat opposite them and the driver pulled away from the curb.

  Kash and Isabel studied each other for several seconds, saying nothing. Kash wore an amused expression that Isabel read as cocky.

  “How long do you think this will take? These pictures?” Gillian asked.

  Kash chuckled. “Depends on whether my equipment survives the setting-up period. If Isabel can remain upright, no more than an hour.”

  Gillian started to laugh, then tried unsuccessfully to control herself with a hand to her mouth when Isabel glared at her.

  “You’re such a riot, Kash.” Isabel took another long pull of champagne. “Are you planning to go with sarcasm the entire tr
ip?”

  Kash poured herself a glass and took a sip. “Most probably,” she said finally. “But only with you.”

  Gillian half spewed her mouthful of champagne. “I can see I’m going to have to play referee,” she said, wiping her chin. “Which is cool, I’m good with that. Whatever it takes, because we’re all going to be spending a lot of time together, that’s for sure.”

  She was positively giddy at the prospect, but Isabel and Kash both greeted the pronouncement by downing the contents of their glasses. They reached for a refill simultaneously, but Kash’s hand got there first.

  “Allow me,” she said through gritted teeth, offering to pour for Isabel.

  “Charmed, I’m sure,” Isabel singsonged, repeating Kash’s earlier greeting in the kind of mocking tone she hadn’t used since elementary school. She held out her glass and allowed Kash to refill it.

  As she brought it to her mouth, the limo stopped without warning and the contents of the glass soaked the front of her lavender shell, transforming it instantly into a winning wet-T-shirt contest entry. “Damn, that’s cold!”

  Kash positively guffawed, and Gillian was only slightly less obnoxious about delighting in her humiliation.

  “Good thing your luggage is in the trunk so you can change,” Kash commented. She tilted her head at Isabel’s large leather purse. “Or do you routinely carry an extra shirt for such occasions?”

  Gillian howled.

  Isabel could feel her ears warm as she reached into the purse for a burgundy shell, similar to the one she had on. “With all due respect, screw you both.”

  Gillian and Kash cracked up even more and glanced at each other. Something about that unspoken interaction between them sent a chill of disquiet through Isabel, but she didn’t stop to examine why.

  Grateful for the tinted windows, she reached down to remove her soaked top. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have given a thought to what she was about to do. But then she realized that Kash was checking out her breasts, vividly outlined against the sheer fabric, erect nipples and all. Could you be any more blatant about it? She should have been appalled by Kash’s overt leering, but she was surprised to find she actually kind of…liked it. Since the limo was braking in front of Kash’s studio, she decided it was better to wait.