sensations totally alien to her. Sensations that belied every one of the nasty headlines.
Her pause lasted only a second, but she felt the first blush she’d had in years crawling hotly up her skin.
The man’s thin lips quirked in a knowing smile.
Obviously aware that he was the cause of her hesitation, his expression reflected a mixture of mocking humor and blatant male approval.
She’d spent years learning to ignore the masculine admiration her body elicited. For her, the perfectly proportioned curves were a tool of her trade, nothing more, but this man’s look went zinging to the very heart of her.
Frissons of awareness skittered along her nerve endings, leaving goose bumps of sensation in unlikely places.
She stopped at the end of the stage, which happened to be right in front of his table, while two other models wearing eveningwear came down the catwalk to flank her.
His eyes flared with pleasure as she stood in a mannequin-still pose before him and his dark-blond head tilted slightly, as if he was adjusting his angle to look at her better.
An electric current vibrated across the space between them, inexorably connecting her with the mysterious green-eyed stranger. Unbelievably, her nipples grew hard and her breasts felt tight, while her thighs trembled with the effort it took to maintain her pose.
She’d never reacted this way during a show. Not ever.
Only years of practice and discipline made it possible for her to move through her choreographed routine with the other two models. However, no matter which direction she turned, she felt that amazing connection.
It was scary.
Relief mixed with disappointment when the announcer cued her to return up the catwalk. She walked away from the green-eyed man, supremely aware of the almost nonexistent nature of the back of her gown.
It dipped to a V that ended right above her bottom, the white silk semitransparent. She wore minimal undergarments and if he was looking closely enough, he would see the shadow of her cheeks and the outline of her legs beneath the fabric. Shards of excitement speared her inner thighs at the thought.
For the first time in her modeling career, she felt exposed , as if her body was more than a living mannequin used to show off a designer’s creations.
That the dress was in fact showing her off.
She could not help wondering what he thought of an outfit that left so little of her body’s secrets to the imagination.
Jake Barton watched the beautiful brunette retreat up the catwalk. He was sporting the biggest, most painful hard-on he’d had in years…maybe ever.
It was such an unexpected turn-on that he wanted to howl at the moon. “Damn it, Lise, you didn’t tell me this was going to be a lingerie show.”
“Shh,” his sister hissed from her seat beside him, not turning to look at him. “ Haute couture tends to be more revealing. The lingerie comes later.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. It’s on the program if you’d bothered to look at it.”
He looked at it now and sure enough, there was a finale of nightwear by Lexi.
He didn’t know how he was going to stand seeing the model who had been introduced as Bella in anything sexier without coming in his pants.
That little lady was a walking work of art. A perfect Pocket Venus. She definitely didn’t fit the current trend of boy-thin, Amazon-tall models who graced most magazine covers.
The other models in the show for Lexi’s Creations, designed especially for petite women, were small in stature too, but none of them had this model’s voluptuous curves or the air of sensual promise her pouting lips gave her. Despite those sensual lips, her brown eyes had reflected an unconscious vulnerability that he found every bit as enticing as her sexy body.
For the first time since his sister had talked him into attending a series of trunk shows with her while she researched the professional world of fashion for her latest book, he thought he just might enjoy
Her pause lasted only a second, but she felt the first blush she’d had in years crawling hotly up her skin.
The man’s thin lips quirked in a knowing smile.
Obviously aware that he was the cause of her hesitation, his expression reflected a mixture of mocking humor and blatant male approval.
She’d spent years learning to ignore the masculine admiration her body elicited. For her, the perfectly proportioned curves were a tool of her trade, nothing more, but this man’s look went zinging to the very heart of her.
Frissons of awareness skittered along her nerve endings, leaving goose bumps of sensation in unlikely places.
She stopped at the end of the stage, which happened to be right in front of his table, while two other models wearing eveningwear came down the catwalk to flank her.
His eyes flared with pleasure as she stood in a mannequin-still pose before him and his dark-blond head tilted slightly, as if he was adjusting his angle to look at her better.
An electric current vibrated across the space between them, inexorably connecting her with the mysterious green-eyed stranger. Unbelievably, her nipples grew hard and her breasts felt tight, while her thighs trembled with the effort it took to maintain her pose.
She’d never reacted this way during a show. Not ever.
Only years of practice and discipline made it possible for her to move through her choreographed routine with the other two models. However, no matter which direction she turned, she felt that amazing connection.
It was scary.
Relief mixed with disappointment when the announcer cued her to return up the catwalk. She walked away from the green-eyed man, supremely aware of the almost nonexistent nature of the back of her gown.
It dipped to a V that ended right above her bottom, the white silk semitransparent. She wore minimal undergarments and if he was looking closely enough, he would see the shadow of her cheeks and the outline of her legs beneath the fabric. Shards of excitement speared her inner thighs at the thought.
For the first time in her modeling career, she felt exposed , as if her body was more than a living mannequin used to show off a designer’s creations.
That the dress was in fact showing her off.
She could not help wondering what he thought of an outfit that left so little of her body’s secrets to the imagination.
Jake Barton watched the beautiful brunette retreat up the catwalk. He was sporting the biggest, most painful hard-on he’d had in years…maybe ever.
It was such an unexpected turn-on that he wanted to howl at the moon. “Damn it, Lise, you didn’t tell me this was going to be a lingerie show.”
“Shh,” his sister hissed from her seat beside him, not turning to look at him. “ Haute couture tends to be more revealing. The lingerie comes later.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. It’s on the program if you’d bothered to look at it.”
He looked at it now and sure enough, there was a finale of nightwear by Lexi.
He didn’t know how he was going to stand seeing the model who had been introduced as Bella in anything sexier without coming in his pants.
That little lady was a walking work of art. A perfect Pocket Venus. She definitely didn’t fit the current trend of boy-thin, Amazon-tall models who graced most magazine covers.
The other models in the show for Lexi’s Creations, designed especially for petite women, were small in stature too, but none of them had this model’s voluptuous curves or the air of sensual promise her pouting lips gave her. Despite those sensual lips, her brown eyes had reflected an unconscious vulnerability that he found every bit as enticing as her sexy body.
For the first time since his sister had talked him into attending a series of trunk shows with her while she researched the professional world of fashion for her latest book, he thought he just might enjoy
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