Naked by Gina Gordon Page B

the ends. Her lips were red to match her skirt, her eyes lined in heavy black liner. The vibrant pink of the lotus flower spread out over her shoulder was eye-catching. Green leaves and vines tied it all together, spanning over her collarbone, down her biceps, and over her shoulder.

    “I wanted to…” How did she say exactly why she was here? “I was hoping you could…”
    “You want some sexy photos to give to Noah, don’t you?” Harper rubbed her hands together in mischief. “I knew I had piqued your interest when I was harassing Charlotte.”
    The man who greeted her snorted. “That’ll be the day.”
    Harper glared at the man behind the counter. “Ari Abrams, this is Violet…” She left the introduction hanging, but then quickly recovered. “Just Violet.”
    Ari nodded with a smile.
    “Could we…” She needed to get out of the spotlight. And right now, this waiting area felt like the middle of a Broadway stage on opening night, and she’d forgotten her lines. “Do you have an office?”
    “Of course. Where are my manners?”
    Harper held out her arm and motioned for her to move ahead of her through the door. “Can I get you something to drink?” She detoured to a small room that looked like an office and reached into a mini fridge.
    “No, thank you.”
    Harper pulled out a can of cream soda. “If I don’t have at least two of these a day I get a little cranky. I drink so much I don’t think I need to dye my hair pink anymore.” She laughed at her own joke.
    Illogical. Cream soda wasn’t actually pink.
    Shut it, Violet. You got her point.
    Harper led her to the back of the tattoo shop where there were four rooms. Three of them were occupied by artists. The buzzing was louder back here. It vibrated through her body, but in a good way. An exciting way.

    She tiptoed, not wanting to draw attention to herself in case Luke was here. But any intention of being quiet was squelched when Harper yelled, “Luke! I have a client. Keep out.”
    A curt “okay” sounded just before she shut them into the fourth room.
    This room was just like Harper. The walls were painted a bright yellow—all sunshine and happy days.
    A lighted mirror table sat in the corner with a small bench seat, two tackle boxes of makeup on top. A small table was in the middle of the room with two chairs and to the left was a black backdrop and a red chaise lounge. Photography equipment was strewn everywhere.
    “So how can I help you?” Harper watched from the makeup table, arms folded across her chest, a casual smile on her face. But there was nothing casual about this.
    She’d never shown anyone her scars before. Not even Roxy. Not even her parents had seen what she looked like now that she was no longer wrapped up in bandages. The only people who had seen them were the doctors and nurses.
    “Violet?” Harper stared at her with a sympathetic smile. “You’ll have to tell me why you’re here.” She placed her fists on her hips. “I’m pretty awesome, but mind reading isn’t one of my skills.”
    “Sorry.” Violet used to be that confident. So comfortable with her appearance that she felt like she could do anything. “I…should just show you.”

    Was it hot in here? It was definitely hot. The closed door had stopped the air circulation. Panic rose up her throat. She wasn’t claustrophobic but today, in here, she might be.
    Harper was now giving her a curious look.
    Great way to scare the stranger, Violet. As if people didn’t already think you’ve gone off the deep end.
    She wanted to get better. Wanted to believe that she was more than boobs and a pretty face, but who was she if not Ward Walker’s beautiful daughter? “Intelligent daughter with a master’s degree in business administration” wasn’t the descriptor that was ever used. And if she had any hope of moving things to the next level with Noah, she needed to do something about this self-loathing.
    Here goes nothing.
    She reached up, unraveling the