Fearless by Annie Jocoby Read Free Book Online Page B

professional with them.
    The minutes ticked by slowly. I kept checking my watch, and started to feel the anxiety build. What if she couldn’t make it? Wouldn’t Nottingham call me and let me know about that? I started to feel just a bit foolish, coming down here and setting everything up. If she didn’t show, I would just be the chump.
    The anxiety built, as the time got to be 8:30, and then 8:45. I kept checking my phone, too, to see if Nottingham had contacted me, but there was never a message or a voice-mail from him. I tapped my foot impatiently, and started to feel let down by the whole thing . I probably shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.
    Finally, around 9, there was a knock on my door. I took a quick peek in the mirror before I went to let her in. My hair was behaving, and I was dressed as professionally as I could be, as I had chosen a yellow sweater with a white button-down, jeans and oxford shoes. I had even bothered to spray some cologne and used after-shave. All in all, I felt at least a bit presentable.
    My heart pounding, I opened the door. She was standing on the other side of the door, wearing jeans, a longish cashmere sweater and boots. Her gorgeous red hair was tied up behind her head, and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. But even in her casual attire, with her unadorned face, she still glowed from within. The same heat that I felt from her as I admired her on the bus was still burning, white hot. It was something that I could feel, especially since she was so close, and she actually was going to interact with me.
    She smiled, her teeth perfect. I had a hard time taking my eyes off of her lips. Her perfect, full, sensuous lips. I self-consciously licked my own lips as I fixated on hers. She held out her slender hand, her nails perfectly lacquered in a dark blue color that was almost black. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Dalilah. And you must be Luke.”
    I took a deep breath, determined that I was going to be cool. “Yeah, Luke,” I simply said, shaking her hand. I willed my hand not to tremble, which would belie my outer attempts to be casual. To my delight, my handshake with her was steadfast and unwavering.
    She just kind of stood there, after I shook her hand, and looked around. “Well, I guess I have to disrobe for you. Where can I do that?”
    I pointed wordlessly to the divider that I had set up in the middle of the room. She nodded and went behind it. I could hear her back there, humming a tune that I didn’t quite recognize. Her singing voice was melodic and sweet. It seemed higher-pitched than her speaking voice, which was low, throaty and sexy as hell. Her speaking voice fit her image, which was that of a classy lady who exuded intelligence and breeding. As Fitzgerald might have observed, her voice was full of money. Which made her even more out of my league, it that was even possible.
    I gasped a little, trying to cover that up as well, when she emerged from behind the divider. She was completely nude, of course, and her body was sheer perfection. Creamy white skin. Perfectly round breasts. Tapered waist and gorgeous, well-toned legs. I tried very hard not to stare, and had to remind myself, over and over again, that I was a professional and she was just another model. Just another job to do. As difficult as that was to do, considering the fact that Dalilah was as physically perfect as anybody I had ever seen, let alone painted, I simply had to suck it up and pretend that she was like one of the zaftig women that I usually ended up portraying.
    “Where do you want me?” she asked, obviously not shy or demure. Of course, this was just another job for her too. I had to remind myself of that fact.
    I pointed to the fainting couch. “Right there would be cool,” I said.
    “Oh, how nice. A fainting couch. I’ve always wanted to pose in one of these. So much nicer than the usual chair or hard surface.” At that, she laid down on the couch, and assumed a rather provocative pose. She had a