Eye Candy (City Chicks) by Tera Lynn Childs Read Free Book Online Page B

to hit both birds with one stone, I leaned forward to reveal a little deeper cleavage and draw attention to the pear-shaped pendant dangling therein and confessed, "I design jewelry."
    "Jewelry," he exclaimed. "Such a fascinating field. What sort of pieces do you design?"
    "Pieces like this." I did my best to drawl—imagining how Fiona would make a man remember her through body language and tone of voice.
    She always said men needed to be hit over the head with the obvious, so I took one French-manicured finger and trailed it along the invisible wire of the necklace to the dangling pendant. Ferrero's pale blue eyes followed every inch of the way, alight with interest and—
    "Who's the guy ogling your breasts?" Phelps asked conversationally as he came up on my left and slipped an arm around my waist.
    I elbowed him in the ribs. My face burned with embarrassment.
    Ferrero recovered admirably—surely he had yards of experience being caught ogling other men's women—and grinned at Phelps. "I was just admiring your young woman's work of art."
    "That's one I never heard."
    "I was showing  Mr. Ferrero "—I pulled out of his grasp and lifted the pendant to his view—"my jewelry design."
    Phelps examined the necklace closely—though I'm not sure he wasn't copping an ogle, too. "It's beautiful," he decreed. Then remembered that he should have already seen all my jewelry. "As always. But all the more beautiful because it has such a lovely canvas."
    He took the hand that held the necklace and pressed a kiss to the back.
    I was not appeased by the sweet gesture. Or the genuine admiration in his voice. Or the apologetic smile.
    "Dance with me?" he asked as a slow song played out across the beach.
    Alright, I was appeased.
    But not because he obviously realized his mistake and was trying to make up for it, but because Ferrero was taking this all in with rapt attention. Ha, let's see him forget me next time we meet.
    "Go, go," he said. "Dance with your young man beneath the stars. Tomorrow, we must speak more about your designs."
    "Yes!" I screamed. On the inside.
    On the outside, I said, "Of course, Mr. Ferrero."
    "Please," he argued as Phelps took my hand and led me away, "you must call me Franco."
    I smiled like a kid presented with a 5-lb bag of Brach's Fun Mix. I hardly noticed as Phelps led me toward the surf, out of the circle of light thrown by the bonfire.
    Ferre— Franco was definitely going to remember me.
    "Sorry."
    I looked at Phelps, a look of pure contrition on his handsome face. Hmmm, this night was getting better and better.
    "I had no idea that was your boss," he apologized.
    He looked really sorry. And I was a little amazed that this cocky, arrogant man—whom I had only known a few hours—had a remorseful bone in his body.
    Rather than give in to the impulse to berate him, I let him pull me into a slow dance.
    "You know, I should be mad." The wet sand felt cool beneath my feet. "I really should. But I'm not."
    "You're not?" he asked, incredulous.
    Maybe I had been a little high strung all evening. No wonder he expected me to rail him for embarrassing me.
    His arms encircled my waist and I let him lead our sway to the soft jazz. This had to be the most incredibly romantic moment of my life—if only I weren't sharing it with a guy who was being paid to be here.
    But I guess I could have a romantic moment of my own.
    "I wanted to make an impression." I laid my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes and absorbing the moment with all my senses.
    The smell of the sea—a little salty, a little fishy—and Calvin Klein Contradiction filled my nostrils. Small waves broke upon the sand with a rhythmic roar, somehow in tune with the rhythm of Norah Jones. Phelps held me close, but not tight. One broad hand flat across my lower back, the other smoothing circles along my spine.
    I felt hypnotized.
    When he turned his head to whisper, "Everyone's watching," I barely noticed.
    One hand left my back to lift my chin. "Everyone's