Daddy’s Temptation by Kelly Myers
Excerpt: Daddy’s Rules
He’s always surrounded by gorgeous women.
Models.
Supermodels.
And one of his three important rules?
Never mix business with pleasure.
Nick is the best photographer in Hollywood.
He’s older, always in control, and oh-so-tempting.
Being in Vegas with Nick as his model did a number on me.
We ended up having way too much fun.
One kiss led to another and the next thing I know?
I’ve got a ring on my finger and tears in my eyes.
Nick doesn’t get emotionally involved.
That’s another one of his rules.
If he falls for me, he’d be breaking two of his three rules.
The third one is to never let me take control in bed.
That’s the only one I like.
But what if I end up pregnant?
Would that make him break the other two rules?
And if he doesn’t, then it’s my heart he’ll be breaking…
Savannah
When I get the call that everyone says will change my life, I hope it’s true. Something deep down in my gut, in my heart, knows that things are about to change in a big way for me, but it’s definitely not what I’m expecting.
Or, should I say not whom I’m expecting.
I may be a small town girl from Ohio, but I have always had big dreams. Growing up, people constantly told me I should be a model. Probably because I look like a scarecrow-- tall and skinny with long blonde hair. It took me a while to grow into my gangly self and, half the time, I still think that I resemble a long-legged baby deer more often than not. But, now at 21, I know my angles, my proportions and how best to use the light to highlight my attributes.
A few modeling classes helped and binge-watching America’s Next Top Model taught me a lot. But, I’ve learned you either have it or you don’t when it comes to modeling. You don’t have to be the prettiest or the tallest or the skinniest to book an important gig. What you need, the thing that all supermodels have, is that certain je ne sais quoi. And, it can’t be taught or bought or learned.
I’ve been told I have it. They say when the camera starts clicking, I sparkle.
I’m not sure about that, but I do know that when the photographer starts taking pictures, I go to another place. My body goes on autopilot and somehow knows exactly what to do. It’s almost like an out of body experience and I can see myself posing, and I just go with the flow and let it all happen naturally.
So, when my agent calls and tells me that I just booked a once-in-a-lifetime campaign with Guess, I’m thrilled. I’ve been working toward this moment since I was 15 and it’s taken me six years. I’m extremely grateful because I know that a model has a short shelf-life. Normally, if you don’t make it by 21, you’re done.
I made it.
The paycheck that comes with this type of campaign is the whole reason I decided to pursue modeling in the first place. I have no desire to design fragrances or start a clothing line or transition into acting when my modeling days are over at the ripe old age of 25. Instead, I’m going to save every penny I earn and put it toward school and opening my own practice.
I’ve always loved animals and my real dream is to become a veterinarian. Modeling will just be the way I finance that dream.
While most girls my age are busy partying and dating, I pretty much avoid all that and stay focused on the big picture. I don’t have time to go out and get drunk and date random guys when I have a photoshoot at 6am the next morning. That means being on set and ready to shoot at that exact time, not wandering in the door with a coffee. Hair, wardrobe and makeup can take anywhere from two to three hours. So, a 6am call time more than likely means that my butt needs to be there by 3am.
It’s never been a problem for me. My parents taught me to respect other people and their time. I was raised to have a good work ethic and, even if I am the headliner or star or whatever you want to call it, I wouldn’t have a job if I didn’t work hard and do my best.
No matter how talented you may be, people don’t want to work with an asshole. So, I always make sure I am considerate, professional and kind to everyone I encounter whether it’s the hotshot photographer or the craft service person.
I wonder who the photographer on the campaign will be? I’ve worked with some amazing and talented ones and I’m sure this time will be no exception. As my excitement starts to build, I decide to call home and share the news.
My mom answers in her usual cheery, upbeat voice. “Hi, Savannah. I was just going to call you.”
Bob and Cindy Hart, my parents, had me and my younger sister Bri when they were well into their 40s. Now, they’re both retired school teachers and still as happy and in love as the day they got married. I’ve been lucky to have such a good example of love and, maybe one day, after I’m a successful vet, I’ll meet the man of my dreams.
Currently, though, I’m in no rush.
“Hi, Mom. I have some big news,” I tell her in a sing-song voice.
“You booked the campaign?”
I can hear the excitement in her voice and I squeal. “I am officially a Guess Girl.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you,” she gushes. “Hold on, I have to tell your father.”
I laugh as my Mom shares the good news. “Is Bri there?” I ask.
“No, she’s at a birthday party with some friends.”
Of course, she is,I think. My 16-year old sister is a social butterfly. Way more outgoing than me and always in the thick of things. I think she’s been class president twice, a cheerleader for both the basketball and football teams and on the Homecoming Court as a freshman which is practically unheard of at our high school. It means she’ll be a shoe-in for Queen one day.
“Okay, well, tell her to call me.”
“I will. Where’s your shoot taking place?”
“Las Vegas.” I’ve never been to Sin City so it should be interesting. I just turned 21 last month so it’s the perfect time now that I’m legal. I can drink, gamble and go to all the hottest clubs. Yeah, right. Who am I kidding? I’m going to be tucked away in my room, probably pampering myself, resting up and ordering room service.
Same routine, different city. I don’t vary too much from the usual get-lots-of-rest before a photo shoot. I refuse to stumble on set after a night of partying with dark circles under my blue eyes and a bloated face and stomach from too much alcohol.
Not that I’d really know, though. Other than a sip here or there, I don’t drink. And, unlike my extrovert sister, I don’t remember the last party I attended.
You are boring and predictable, Savvy.
I talk to my Mom for a bit longer and then hang up. For some reason, my thoughts keep returning to the fact that I recently turned 21 and didn’t celebrate. I was working that day and didn’t even eat the cupcake my neighbor Jasmine gave me. I don’t really regret it, but, at the same time, I wonder if something is wrong with me. Am I too serious? Too focused? Should I let loose a little bit?
Jasmine Torres is a few years older than me and a model, too. She mostly does runway and she’s striking with long, silky black hair and dark almond-shaped eyes. Her exotic beauty is the complete opposite of my All-American blonde hair and blue eyes.
I’d love to look like Jasmine and have her confidence. She’s originally from Texas and, even though she’s only 25, she has this motherly quality toward all the younger girls who live here at Sunset Terrace. She always has some kind of wisdom to share and manages to slip a “y’all” in every other sentence.
Sunset Terrace, my apartment complex, consists of 12 units and a crystal blue pool in the middle where we like to hang out on our days off. It’s all very Melrose Place looking and my neighbors, like me, are here in Hollywood to pursue their dreams.
Jasmine and I are the models and have had the most success. Taylor, my other neighbor, is a dancer. She studies ballet during the day and is freaking amazing. The way she can twirl and dip blows my mind and she has this natural grace and elegance that makes me feel like a clutz. And, even though being a classically-trained ballerina is her dream, she can drop it like it’s hot and hit the dance floor like she was born to be a hip hop dancer. To pay the bills, she dances at night at a nearby club and is always inviting us down there.
I keep telling myself, and her, that I’ll go. I just haven’t had the time or inclination yet.
Our friend Morgan lives a few apartments over and she’s the only one of us actually from SoCal. She’s been trying to break into acting for quite awhile now and her Mom is really sick with cancer. I feel bad for her and know that she works extra shifts as a cocktail waitress to help pay her Mom’s hospital bills. I see how tired she looks sometimes and can see her dream starting to fade away and reality setting in. I’m not sure how much longer she’s going to be able to go out on auditions and keep getting rejected. Acting is a brutal industry and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Even if you’re talented, your chances of making it are slim to none.
In Hollywood, when it comes to making movies, it’s all who you know.
And, poor Morgan doesn’t know anyone.
A few of the residents here keep to themselves, but the group of us in our 20s have bonded and like to hang out and talk about how we’re going to take this town by storm and make it big. There are a couple of cute guys, but no one I’m interested in pursuing. Twenty-something guys are really just boys, in my opinion. All they want to do is get drunk and have sex.
When I first moved into the complex last year, my upstairs neighbor Mason asked me out, but I politely declined. He lives with Cody and they’re such typical frat boys. Constantly drinking, partying and hooking up.
Bleh.
I think when I decide to start looking for a significant other, he’s going to be older. I need a man who is mature, dependable and considerate. Someone who will take their time and be patient and not rush me into anything. Especially sex.
I’ve put it off this long so when I finally sleep with a man, I want it to be a man. To me, a real man is someone who will move slowly and teach me things that I don’t know. And, let’s face it, I don’t know much. When I was 12, I was still playing with Barbies and nowadays, there are 12-year olds who are pregnant.
It kind of blows my mind, but I try not to judge. To each his own, right?
Hmm.Then, it occurs to me that maybe I’m the one who’s missing out. Am I letting my best years slip by me because I’m too busy planning my future?
No, I decide, and reach into my fridge and pull out a pop. As I take a sip, I know that I could’ve stayed in Ohio and led a normal life. I could be married by now with a kid on the way. But, I wanted more. And, one of these days, I’ll go back home, open up my practice and maybe find a nice man to settle down with.
But, for now, I’m going to work my butt off, save money and hope that this campaign with Guess will launch my career into the stratosphere.
Then, maybe I’ll take a quick break and pop open a bottle of champagne with my neighbors.
Maybe.
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