Read Online Late Call (Volume 1) by Emma Hart - Free Book Online Page A

girls all come forward and leave their portfolios on the table. Aaron’s gaze flicks to me every other minute, and I feign complete ignorance, even though I can feel it burning into me.
    “What do you think?” Eric Duvall, the British guy, asks Aaron when the room is empty.
    “What did they want?”
    Eric holds up a sheet of paper. “Blond, curvy but not heavy, slim but not skinny.”
    “And the only blonde there was on the skinnier side of slim.”
    “The curvy girl, uh…” Another guy shuffles paper. “Connie. She’s so light she’d pass for blond.”
    I bet that’s not all she passes for in your mind, buddy.
    “No.” Aaron shakes his head. “She’s too dark for blond. Dayton? What do you think?”
    “Hmm?”
    His lips quirk up. “Connie—the first girl that left. Could she pass for blond?”
    “Sorry, but no. Light brown and blond are different. She’d have to get highlights, and since this is only one shoot, it’s a big ask.”
    “One shoot with the potential to front the campaign,” the guy who wants her puts in.
    “But why ask her to take the risk? There are probably a hundred blond girls out there who would be suitable. Of course, this is only my opinion—and I know nothing about modeling.” I shrug a shoulder.
    Eric Duvall smiles gratefully at me and turns to Aaron. “Shall we put out another call?”
    “Yes—and be specific. Don’t miss a detail—hair, eyes, weight. Everything. This is a large contract we can’t afford to lose.”
    “Will you be here next time?” the other guy asks.
    “No, we leave for Sydney on Thursday.” Aaron stands, and the other guys follow suit. “Obviously I expect a full report including portfolios via email before the end of the day, and it goes without saying that no one will be chosen without my approval.”
    “Of course.” They shake hands.
    “Thank you for coming today, Adam. I know you’re busy with the L’amour contract.”
    “It was a pleasure.” He nods and leaves the room.
    “Eric, how’s your wife?”
    “She’s well, thank you. Bloody awful sickness is taking its toll on her now, poor love.” He shakes his head.
    “My ag—” I catch myself. “My friend swore by popsicles when she was expecting her son. She said they kept her hydrated as well as settled her stomach.”
    “Really? I’ll get some on the way back home tonight. Thank you, Dayton.”
    “You’re welcome.” I smile.
    He checks his watch. “Excuse me. I have a meeting for another contract in ten minutes, so I really must be going now. Dayton, it was a pleasure to meet you.” He takes my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “And, Aaron, I’ll be sure to touch base with you and your father tonight to let you know the outcome.”
    “Thank you, Eric. Good luck with the meeting.” Aaron shakes his hand and closes the door behind him. He pauses in front of it, raising his eyes to mine. “Subtlety isn’t a strong point of yours, is it, Dayton?”
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “Of course not.” He loosens his tie, letting it hang around his neck, and the now open top button of his shirt reveals a hint of muscle on his chest. “I have to say, I found it very convenient how you just had to cough when Connie was very obviously bending in front of me.”
    “She was? I didn’t notice.”
    Aaron places his hands on the desk either side of me, and one of his thumbs brushes my thigh as he does so. “And I definitely have to say, it was a nice move with the leg cross. If there were anyone else in here who had seen that, there’d be some happy wives tonight.”
    I don’t fight the twitch of my lips. “Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    He laughs once and leans in, ghosting his lips along my jaw, barely touching my skin. “That pink thong you’re wearing—as fucking gorgeous as it is—doesn’t cover nearly as much of your pussy as you think it does.”
    My breath catches when he wraps his fingers around my thigh,