Read Online Blood Relations by Barbara Parker - Free Book Online Page A

him: Charlie Sullivan, one of Ford’s top male models. British, but living in the States. She wondered what he was doing here. It wasn’t for this gig, not playing Mr. Middle America. If Sullivan were on a beach, he’d be lying half-nude in the surf, pulling an equally stunning female slowly up his torso, his mouth pressed to her throat, the sun bouncing off every welldefined muscle in his body. She had seen his model composite, a variety of poses and outfits. A tux. Tweeds.
    Business attire. A cashmere coat over an Italian suit. Or nothing but low-slung jeans and rippling stomach muscles. He was big time now, double-page editorial shots in Details and GQ.
    Caitlin glanced at Rafael. Under the big sunglasses his mouth was compressed into a tight line. She said, “You want me to tell him to get lost? I could say it’s a closed set.”
    “No, forget it.”
    She touched his arm. “You all right?”
    “Peachy.”
    Until a few months ago, Rafael had been staying at Sullivan’s beach front condo, keeping the place neat, even paying the mortgage. Sullivan returned from a trip to London and kicked him out. Caitlin had tried to warn Rafael, but he’d been deaf and blind.
    She went back to her camera. The man and woman and child filled the viewfinder. The boy had a little Miami Marlins cap on now. Cute kid. Rosy cheeks, round tummy.
    Draping an arm over the telephoto she shouted, “Uta!
    Did you get a release from the Marlins?”
    Uta yelled back, “For what?”
    “The hat.”
    Uta put her hands on her hips, then trotted back toward the water. She had long, tanned legs, and her blond braid bounced on her back. She motioned for Tommy to take off the boy’s hat. He sailed it toward her in an arc and she ran to catch it one-handed. Coming back up the slope, Uta caught sight of Sullivan and held out her arms. Caitlin heard her voice sliding down the scale. “Hi-i-iiii.` They kissed lightly, and Sullivan left his arm around her shoulders.
    “Such a whore,” Rafael said.
    “Which one?”
    “Both of them. I saw them at Follia last night with their hands all over each other. Where was her husband, I’d like to know?”
    “Sullivan’s in his hetero phase,” she said. “Next week it will be dogs or something.”
    Rafael said, “If he comes over here, I’m leaving.”
    But when Sullivan headed in their direction, Rafael didn’t move. The two swimsuit models trailed along behind him, one barefoot, one in thongs. One from a town in Alabama, the other a light-skinned Haitian whose father, according to rumor, had fled to Paris with a big chunk of the island’s treasury.
    Sullivan sat on a wooden beach lounger a few yards away from the umbrella. The sun gleamed on his dark blond hair. “Hello, everyone.” He smiled, showing his perfect white teeth.
    One of the models dropped down beside him. “Comment Ca va, mon cher? When did you get back?”
    He gave her a peck on the lips. “Forever ago. Two weeks, at least. I was in Oslo, where I nearly froze my bum off.”
    The American girl bumped his shoulder with a hip. “I heard something about you.”
    “Should I ask?”
    “You’re the runway feature model in Milan for DolceGabbana’s winter collection.”
    “Yes, my agent called last week, and I’m still in shock.”
    Rafael said coolly, “And here you are, slumming on a shoot for a resort designed for the bowling-alley crowd.”
    “I came to watch your hair-spray technique.”
    He glared down at Sullivan through his sunglasses. “By the way, You still have several of my CDs. I would like to come pick them up.”
    “Whenever you like. I’ll leave them downstairs with the doorman.” Sullivan smiled.
    Rafael spun around and headed up the beach.
    Caitlin said, “I don’t think it’s such a hot idea, your being here. It’s upsetting Rafael.”
    “Everything upsets Rafael. Actually, it’s you I came to talk to.”
    “What about?”
    “The thing at the Apocalypse last week, what else?”
    The Haitian girl sat