Daddy’s Rules by Kelly Myers
Nick
Savannah Hart is doing all those things to me and more. I’m literally having a hard time looking at anything else. Just find myself moving my gaze from her full lips up to her bright, aqua eyes and then sliding back down to those goddamn tempting lips again. She’s wearing some kind of shiny gloss on them and-
This isn’t good. Rules, Nick. Remember, your rules. Savannah Hart is the reason you have them in the first place.
I have always prided myself on my self-control. Especially when it comes to work. But, something about this girl is making me a little crazy. She gives off this artless, innocent vibe that heats my blood and is so completely different than the experienced women I’ve known.
It’s important to keep my distance so, right away, I have to be a little bit of a dick. I feel bad about the leather shoe comment, but I don’t want her to think we’re friends. And, I certainly don’t want her looking at me with those big, blue eyes like she did when she first walked up to me at the bar.
When I nearly choked to death, I think, remembering how she looked at me like she had a crush on me. She took me completely off-guard. I didn’t expect her to be so beautiful. And, I don’t just mean the physical. Her pictures may be flawless and amazing, but, in person, Savannah has this glow, an aura, that is so refreshing and it pulls you into her orbit. Like gravity.
And, I can’t have that.
Just keep her at arm’s length, Knight. Not that hard. It’s only two more days.
When our dinner arrives, the timing is perfect. I shouldn’t have made that last comment because it wasn’t about the damn beach at all. It was about this mesmerizing girl sitting across from me.
I decide I need to shut up for a while and just eat. As I dig into the expensive steak, I notice Savannah begin to pick at the tofu, not looking overly thrilled. Amused, I chew and watch to see what she’s going to do.
When she looks up and catches me watching her, she stabs a big piece and pops it into her defiant, little mouth. A second later, her blue eyes widen in surprise and she starts coughing. Hard. She lifts the napkin and, I’m guessing, spits the food into it.
Tears fill those pretty eyes of hers as she grabs her water and takes a few gulps.
“Something wrong?” I ask even though I know the Japanese horseradish just burned the shit out of her mouth.
“It’s so hot,” she gasps.
“That would be the wasabi,” I say in a dry voice. But, inside, I’m dying. Trying not to laugh. Poor thing. I’ll bet she doesn’t even know what wasabi is and had no clue when she ordered it.
“Oh,” she mumbles. “I guess I missed that.”
“I’d share my steak, but you being a vegan and all…”
“Right,” she says and eyeballs my plate. “I wouldn’t touch that animal carcass with a ten-foot pole.”
Yeah, sure.“Why don’t you order something else?” I suggest.
A frown creases her brow. “But, that would be wasting food.”
“And?”
“And, I was taught you eat whatever you order. There are people starving in this world, you know,” she adds in a prim voice.
When the waiter returns and asks how our meals are, I take pity on her. I don’t know why. Maybe because I get the feeling she’s hungry. Probably because she’s watching me eat like she is one of those starving people in the world. “Actually, I’d like to order a side dish. Can you bring us some roasted cauliflower?” When she sits up straighter, I suppress a smile. “And, an order of the BBQ fries?”
Her eyes practically sparkle when I mention the fries.
“Of course.”
While we wait for the sides, I decide we should probably talk about the shoot, the whole reason we’re having this dinner together in the first place. “Have you ever been to the Neon Boneyard?” I ask.
“No. I’ve never even been to Vegas.”
I nod and take a sip of my whiskey. “It’s a pretty cool place. Great location for a fashion shoot.”
“It’s where all the big, old hotel signs are, right?”
“That’s right. We’ll have complete access to the place and I want it all to have a whimsical feel. You saw the clothes already?”
She nods. “My fitting was yesterday.”
“Good. It’s for next year’s spring catalog so everything is light, flowy, ethereal.” As the last word leaves my mouth, I realize instead of whimsical, it would be even better to go angelic. Make her look like an angel on high. If I capture the early morning light just right and behind her, I’ll be able to emphasize her innocent look and make it appear that she’s glowing.
This new idea starts getting me excited and I study her features. Those bright blue eyes and blonde hair definitely make one think of angels. She has some spice, though, too, and in some of the pictures, I could bring that out.
Fallen angel.
When the thought hits me, I know where I’m taking this campaign. Luckily Guess didn’t give me any specific guidelines because, let’s face it, I’m just that good. They’re smart enough to let me take creative control and not try to box me into one of their boring, corporate, politically-correct concepts.
I tap the edge of my glass, caught up in my vision, and she squirms under my scrutiny.
“What?” she asks, now sounding shy.
“Just thinking about some different shots for tomorrow. Inspiration hit and now I can’t seem to stop it.” The way she can go from angelic to devilish, from innocent to sassy, makes me think of even more ideas.
Angel and Devil.
“Like what?”
“A play on good and evil. You have the ability to look sweet and innocent one minute and turn saucy and hot the next. If we use that tomorrow, we’re going to get some brilliant shots.”
“Oh. That sounds fun, actually.”
“You sound surprised,” I comment.
“I just wasn’t sure what kind of ideas you had,” she says.
The waiter returns and sets the side dishes on the table. “Help yourself,” I say when she hesitates. That’s all the invitation she needs and her fork plows right into the BBQ fries. Just like I knew it would.
“How old are you, anyway?” I ask out of the blue.
Between bites of the fries, she takes a sip of water. “I just turned 21.”
Which makes me 21 years older than her. God, I suddenly feel old. Luckily, I have good genes and have been able to age gracefully so far. I work out five days a week and eat healthy for the most part. But, I do enjoy alcohol and even a good cigar occasionally. My hair is still dark and thick. Though, I have noticed a few silver strands at my temples lately. No doubt thanks to Margo.
For the most part, I feel like I did at 21. Physically, anyway. Mentally, however, I’m wiser and more jaded.
“How old are you?” she asks.
Why does she care?I wonder. “Forty-two.”
She studies me for a moment and then bites into another fry. “You don’t look 42.”
My lip twitches. “And, what does a 21-year old think a 42-year old should look like?”
She shrugs. “More gray hair? A dad-bod?”
I chuckle. “I work hard to avoid both of those.”
A smile lights her face and she drags the cauliflower over after demolishing the fries. She picks through it for a minute then pierces a floret. For someone who claimed to be vegan earlier, she barely looks like she could tolerate being a vegetarian.
“You don’t like cauliflower?” I lean forward and stab my fork into a piece.
“No, I do. I’m just not sure about this other stuff,” she says and pushes the gremolata to the edge of the bowl.
I pop the floret into my mouth and smirk. “The garnish?”
“There’s an awful lot of it to just be garnish and, after my mistake with that wasabi, I’m a little suspicious.”
Artless, I think. Such a breath of fresh air. “It’s just parsley, a little garlic and lemon juice.” When she raises a brow, I take another piece with my fork. “I promise.”
“I usually pour Cheez-Whiz over my cauliflower. Or, melt some Velveeta on it.”
I make a face. “Do you know what’s in that crap?”
“Not wasabi, that’s for sure.”
I chuckle. “You’re really something else. You know that?”
“Maybe it’s an Ohio thing. Because it’s really hard finding Cheez-Whiz out here.”
“That’s because it’s disgusting.”
“Shut up! It’s delicious. Sometimes I just eat it right out of the jar with a spoon.”
I pretend to shiver. “Let me guess. I bet you like that cheese in a can, too.”
“Easy Cheese? Oh, my gosh, yes. I squirt that straight into my mouth.”
The laughter dies in my throat when an image of her putting something wide and thick between those luscious lips and savoring it makes my lower body tighten. Shit. I let the conversation get too personal, steering away from business. And, I can’t afford to do that.
I reach for my glass and toss the rest of the Jack Daniels back in one swallow. It’s time to return to being a detached, cool professional. Although, inside I feel a low fire burning hotly. Just looking at Savannah stokes the flames. Fuck. I need to throw some water on it.
Nip it in the bud right fucking now, Nick.
This shoot is going to be a pain in my ass, I realize. Because I have a feeling that Savannah Hart is going to drive me crazy. Push me over the edge, if I let her.
But, I won’t let that happen. I’m going to suck it up, be a jerk in order to not fan the flames and follow every one of my goddamn rules. Then, I’ll go back home to my lonely life at the beach.
That’s my plan, anyway.
It’s funny, though, how sometimes fate steps in and creates an entirely new plan.
Certainly, one that I never saw coming.
