Finding The One (Meadowview Heroes 1; The Meadowview Series 5) by Rochelle French Page B

but with the man she’d had horrid sex with a few days before. What a colossal mistake. Maybe she could blame her agent for not knowing who the contract was with, but Lisa worked primarily with fashion models, not artists models. Lisa didn’t know the art world the way she knew the fashion world. It was only because of Trudy’s long-standing position in Lisa’s agency that the woman had kept representing her when she switched from high fashion to art and catalogue modeling.
    She only had herself to blame.
    “But the contract was for an artist’s model,” she said, still struggling for comprehension. “Why are you taking photographs?”
    Two lines formed between his brows. “I’m an art photographer. I use cameras and film as my medium.”
    “Photographs aren’t art. They’re pictures,” she snapped out before realizing what she’d said.
    When Mac’s expression morphed from chagrin to pain to anger, she knew she’d said the wrong thing.
    The sound of bees and other insects hung in the air before a muscle pulsed in his jaw and he said slowly, “Yeah, I hear that a lot.” He looked off in the distance, the light in his bright eyes fading, then turned back to her and waved the camera in the air as he spoke. “I guess we should get you back to the dressing room and talk after.”
    She stepped forward, and as he backed up a bit, a volley of clicks went off. She recoiled.
    “My fault,” he said quickly, shoving the camera behind his back. “My finger slipped.”
    She frowned. “I’ve heard that from you before. Not sure I believed you then, and pretty sure I don’t believe you now.”
    A line around the side of his mouth tightened. “That really was an accident. You’ve got me a bit…discombobulated here. And I can’t apologize enough, Trudy, for not realizing you thought you’d contracted with my father, not me.”
    “How was I supposed to know there are two of you?” she threw over her shoulder as she marched, barefoot, along the path that moments ago had inspired her but now made her stomach feel like she’d swallowed lead. Mac kept following her.
    “But I did explain it all in the letter,” he said.
    She kept walking. “What letter?”
    “I sent a letter along with the contract, explaining how the job was with me and not my father. And how even though the other night had been a bit of a bomb, I’d hoped you’d want to work with me. How I thought this was a great opportunity for both of us.”
    “There was no letter. Just the contract and really poorly written instructions on how to get here,” she said numbly.
    “I promise, Trudy, I really thought you’d read the letter. I wouldn’t have led you on.”
    With shaking hands she pulled open the door to the cottage and stumbled inside. She leaned against the closed door and squeezed her eyes shut tight.
    “Um…Trudy?” Mac’s voice sounded muffled from the other side of the door. “I know this must be difficult, but—”
    “I can’t do this now, Mac.” She pushed her hair back off her brow. After heaving in a few breaths, she pushed herself off the door and gathered her clothes. She didn’t even bother with her undies and bra, and instead, with shaking hands, she shoved her legs into her pants but had a difficult time getting her fingers to work on the buttons on her blouse. Forget it. She could button later.
    She swung the door open and Mac nearly tumbled into the room. She frowned and said, “We need to make one thing clear: I never would have signed a contract to pose nude for a photographer, artistic or otherwise.”
    “But you’d planned to pose nude for Gregor. So I’m a little confused.”
    “I’d pose nude for a world-famous sculptor. Not for a photographer who might put the photos on the Internet, for all I know.” Yeah, sure, the words were harsh, but her past had created creases around her soul.
    A fire lit in Mac’s eyes. “I’d never do that without a model’s permission,” he said measuredly, as if