Playboy Page 2

  She crosses the sand, and her tiny pink tipped toes dip into the waves rushing up the shoreline.

  She shivers. “Oh, that’s cold.”

  Her smile is perfect, and I snap a shot.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Tim whispers next to me.

  “Don’t look at her,” I warn over my shoulder. He thinks I’m joking but I’m not. I scan around at all the crew men’s eyes gawking at her. “Guys, no staring,” I remind them.

  They laugh off my warning like it’s some big fucking joke.

  I really need to tell Declan. This is not ok. When she was younger, Declan and I would look after her when the kids would bother her. And now, a sense of over brotherly something or other is kicking in.

  But, the more I aim my camera at Chelsea, the more I forget she shouldn’t be here. She’s a natural at this. The sun kisses her skin, making my shot even better.

  I loosen up, get into it—moving, shouting demands—and she follows every cue.

  It’s one of the best photo shoots I’ve had in a long time. Some of the other models have to be prompted to even smile. Most times, they won’t react unless I say something to get them going.

  But not Chelsea. No, she’s really good.

  Doesn’t change my mind, though. I’m still telling Declan.

  “Get all the way in the water,” I direct, standing so close I’m almost right over top of her, snapping photo after photo. She does as told, and the shutter snaps furious and fast through every pose…

  Stretched out on the wet sand, the frothy water rushing over her toned stomach.

  Snap.

  On her knees, beckoning with a seductive smile on her face.

  Snap.

  The waves crash at her back, and she loses her balance.

  Snap.

  She rises from the ocean.

  Snap.

  I drop my camera and rush forward, throwing my hands over her tits. “Cover your fucking eyes,” I shout. “There’s been a wardrobe malfunction.”

  2

  Chelsea

  Oh my god. My boobs are out. All the way out. This is not a mere nip slip; the triangles are under my armpits. Well, it’s not like this thing really covered anything anyways. As I try to yank the two tiny scraps of material back in place, Jonah stands with a hand on each boob, shielding me from the strangers who have now seen my breasts.

  “You can let go now,” I say to him.

  With his hands still on my breasts, I try to maneuver the bikini back in place.

  “Sorry,” he says, giving a gentle squeeze of each hand.

  It sends tingles all throughout my body.

  Jonah peers at me and I try, keyword try, to look unaffected, as if it’s no big deal I just flashed everyone. This is horrifying. Why Jonah of all people? Judging by the expression on his face, he’s as horrified as I am. He drops his hands and walks away.

  For a moment, I seriously consider swimming off in the ocean, but I muster up the acting skills I’ve honed since I was a little girl dreaming of accepting my Oscar and head toward the crew.

  “It’s all good,” I call out. “Boob is back in this bandaid.” I stop beside Jonah, nerves careening through my belly. “Sorry, just lost focus for a second. Get it? Focus. Camera…”

  He looks down at me with no laughter in his light-brown eyes. “Yeah, I get it.” He turns to the crew. “Ok, great shoot, everyone.”

  Oh, thank God, it’s over. A few of the guys leer at me as I throw a wrap around this floss they call a bathing suit bottom.

  “That was so much fun,” I lie to Jonah as the crew scurries and begins to pack up.

  “Does Declan know you’re working here?” he asks, placing his camera in the bag.

  “Of course, silly,” I say, wringing the water from my hair. “He’s the one who told me about the job.”

  He spins around to face me. “What? And he’s ok with it? I mean, did you see the way everyone was ogling you? It was disgusting.”

  No, it was mortifying. But, I don’t care. I need this job.

  “Yes, he’s fine with it,” I reply, slipping my flip flops on.

  “Why didn’t you guys call me? I could have helped. Or maybe not. I still can’t believe Declan is ok with all of this.”

  “Well, I didn’t want people to think I only got hired because of you,” I explain. “And why wouldn’t he be? It’s not the first time I’ve ever been stared at. I do go to the beach. And I’m not doing anything bad.” I raise a brow at him. “You work here.”

  He shakes his head, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “I don’t care. It’s not something a little sister should do. I mean, you’re practically my little sister.”

  Way to rub salt in the wound. After all this time, that bothers me a little more than it should.

  “Jonah, you’re not my brother. So, stop acting like you are.”

  “I’m pretty much your older brother.”

  “Even if you were, you still can’t make my life decisions for me. Just like Declan. He has no say in how I live my life.”

  “Oh yeah?” he challenges, waving to a few of the set guys as they pass by.

  “Yeah.” He scrubs a hand along the back of his neck. “Listen, modeling isn’t my dream. Acting is. But it’s not like the jobs are falling at my feet. The modeling pay is great and this frees up a lot of my time for auditions.”

  He rakes his teeth along his bottom lip while his eyes lock with mine.

  His honey-colored eyes scan my face. “Acting, huh? Is that why you moved back?”

  I nod. “Yes. And this job is good exposure for me.”

  “I guess,” he agrees, looking as if he doesn’t agree at all. He runs a hand down his beard. “Listen, I’m sorry about the whole, uh, boob thing.”

  My cheeks heat. “Thank you for looking after the girls.”

  “Doesn’t mean I like you working here,” he huffs as he walks away.

  What a baby. What a sexy, overprotective baby.

  When I saw him today for the first time, I felt sixteen and giddy again. He’s still just as sexy. More so. He’s a man now—tall, lean, and full of just the right amount of muscle—with a beard that should be considered a lethal weapon. Not a Duck Dynasty beard, mind you, a perfectly trimmed, just beyond scruff beard. No wonder he has the reputation he does. I’ve heard all about ‘playboy.’ And now, on our reunion, so to speak, he’s seen my boobs, nipples and all.

  I watch him hop into his black Jeep and speed away. He even drives sexy. Man, what was I thinking? No. I’m not going to berate myself for taking this job. My first week in Hollywood, I learned just what this town is made of.

  It’s all about who you know. All about making the right connections. Sure, you hear the stories of a waiter, living in their car, who goes on to become an Alister. But, just like winning the lottery, the chances of that happening are slim to none.

  And my unlucky streak continues.

  Case in point: My first day on the job, I lose the top of my bikini and flash the entire set.

  Case in double point: When I arrive at the cottage I rent, Ms. Larson, my sweet as pie landlord, informs me she’s moving to a retirement community in Florida. The new owners will no longer have a tenant.

  I’m officially living the dream, in five days… I’ll be homeless.

  3

  Jonah

  “So, are you going to eat that?” Booker asks, eyeing my last buffalo wing.

  “Nah, man, go ahead.”

  “Why’d you cut your date short? She was hot, if I remember correctly.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know. Just wasn’t that into it.” And I wasn’t. And he would remember, he set us up.

  “Listen, cheer up. You have a cake job with fine ass models all day long.”

  I lean back in the wooden chair. “Don’t mention work. Can we talk about anything else?” I don’t want to think about Chelsea and her perfect breasts or how they felt under my palms.

  “Sorry.” Booker holds up his hands, backing off the subjec
t.

  “Chelsea is the new model at Bunny Hunnies,” I mumble, unsure if I should have even mentioned anything.

  “Chelsea who?” he asks. His dark eyes light up when he makes the realization. “Oh, shit. You serious? Declan know?”

  “Yeah.” As soon as I left the shoot, I called Declan and gave him an earful. He told me to get the tripod out of my ass; she’s a grown up.

  “Speak of the devil.” He nods his head in the direction of the door, and I turn around thinking I’ll see Chelsea walking toward us, but instead it’s her brother.

  “Hey, assholes,” Declan says, sliding into a seat next to Booker. “You gonna eat that?” he asks, pointing to my last buffalo wing.

  “Go ahead,” I tell him.

  He glances between us, narrowing his hazel eyes. “What are you two talking about?”

  “Your sister,” Booker says, raising his finger to point across the room.

  I swivel around, and there she is.

  “Yeah,” he says, “I told her to meet us here.”

  She spots us and weaves between the tables, working her way over.

  Booker stands and hugs Chelsea. “Haven’t seen you in a while, kiddo.”

  “I’m not a kid anymore,” she smarts back.

  No, you’re definitely not.

  Chelsea slides in close to me while the server takes our drink orders. “This is cool,” she says, looking around.

  It is. Most of the girls I’ve been out with wouldn’t appreciate it. This place has it all: sports on the flat screen behind the bar, pool tables, a dance floor that opens up a little later after the families have left, and a shit ton of beer. Yards and yards of it.

  I order a Sweetwater IPA and sit back while Chelsea fills Booker in on her life in Texas. He cracks up at her animated stories. As for me, I’m a spectator here. Just listening as I watch each one of them. I try not to stare at her, but it’s impossible. She’s very beachy tonight. Is that a thing? If it is, then she’s it. Wedges with straps that tie around her trim ankles, strapless sundress with palm trees, and a nice golden tan. It’s hard reconciling this Chelsea with the kid I once knew.

  Three beers in, and Declan and Booker decide to shoot some pool. “Keep my sister entertained while I kick his ass,” he tells me.

  “Are you glad to be back?” I ask when they leave.

  I was so bothered at the shoot, I didn’t ask any questions.

  She nods and leans closer to be heard over the noise. “No offense to Texas, but I’m a surfer girl at heart, not a cowgirl. Although, I did get some really cute cowboy boots and the brisket was to die for.” Visions of Chelsea in cowboy boots flit through my mind. “Still, it was never home, so I’m happy to be back, although I don’t think LA likes me very much.”

  “Oh yeah? Why do you say that?”

  She gives me a half-smirk. “Well, honestly, I think this town is out to get me.”

  I laugh, then realize she’s not joking. “How so?”

  “Well, take today for example. How many models lose their tops in the water? And on their first day. How humiliating.”

  She goes quiet, twirling the coaster with a blue tipped nail. She seems down, and I suddenly want to cheer her up. “Seriously, it wasn’t that bad. You did great. And pretty soon no one will even remember that whole incident.” Except me. It’s like burned into my brain or something. I can’t get the damn images out of my head.

  “Thanks, I guess. Town still hates me though.”

  Declan and Booker return boasting about their pool game.

  “Jonah, you’re next,” Booker says, after ordering another beer from the server.

  “Maybe later.” I turn back to Chelsea, intrigued. “How so?”

  She glances around the table, and all eyes are on her. “So, my landlord informed me this afternoon that I no longer have anywhere to live.”

  “Ah, Chelsea, I’m sorry. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” Declan asks.

  “Yeah. It’s ok. I’ll figure something out.” She offers a tiny, hopeful smile. But, I see right through it.

  “You can stay with me,” Declan offers. “I know it’s not big… actually,” I nearly spit my beer out when Declan says, “Jonah, you should have Chelsea move in with you.”

  I kick my feet out from the bar they were resting on and sit up straight. “Wait, what?”

  “You have that spare room. You’re always talking about bringing in a roommate.”

  “I do, but…” I can’t even think of anything to say here.

  “No, Declan,” Chelsea interjects, “I’m not living with Jonah. I’ll find somewhere soon.”

  “It would be perfect,” Declan says, sipping his beer.

  “No, it’s ok,” She turns to face me. “Really, it’s ok, Jonah.”

  Declan holds up his hand. “Listen, she would be close to work. Plus, Jonah, extra money never hurt anyone.”

  He’s right…I could use the extra money for new equipment.

  The idea is blooming. Not that big of a bloom yet, more like budding. But, honestly, the idea is sounding kind of good.

  Kind of.

  “Well, I would be closer to work,” Chelsea says.

  “And I would like the extra money.” I just don’t know.

  “And she loves to cook and clean,” Declan offers. “Don’t you, Chels?”

  “Sold,” Booker shouts. “You can move in with me tomorrow. I’ll make a list of what I want cleaned and a menu.”

  “Asshole, she’s not living with you.” Declan glares at him. “I trust Jonah.”

  “Oh, wow.” Booker crosses his arms. “I’m really hurt you would say that, Declan. Am I not a good friend?”

  I lean back, rubbing my beard while I think. Money sounds really good. Luckily, I have an extra bed I got for my older brother whenever he comes to town, but that hasn’t happened since he and his wife had a kid.

  Declan looks eager for my answer.

  Fuck.

  “Ok, she can move in.”

  “Really?” Chelsea asks.

  I ignore the warning bells sounding. “Why not?”

  Declan leans close to my ear. “Watch after her. Don’t let any jerk take advantage of her.”

  I nod. “Sure thing.”

  As if I wouldn’t already do this anyway. His kid sister is my kid sister. One I haven’t seen in ages. Or talked to. Or ever really talked to in depth.

  Well, she’s my little sister by association. I guess.

  If Declan says watch over her, then that’s what I’ll do. I won’t notice the way her shoulder curves, or the way the tops of her breasts swell out from her sundress, or her long legs with those sexy fucking shoes. I got this.

  Chelsea scoots her chair closer. “Thank you. Are you sure about this?”

  Am I sure about this? Hell no. But I don’t tell her that. “Yeah,” I answer.

  “You don’t have to do this out of some sense of obligation.”

  “I’m not,” I reassure her.

  Her blue eyes search mine and then she smiles. “Maybe my luck is changing.”

  “Yeah.” I grin. “When do you want to move in?”

  “Tomorrow? The place I rent is fully furnished, so I don’t have a lot.”

  I take a swig of my beer. “Sure. I’ll get your room ready.”

  The rest of the night passes by quickly with more billiards and booze. Somewhere Booker introduced shots, but I kept my wits about me. Some of us have to work in the morning.

  When I leave the club, and head out to my Jeep…I spot Chelsea tapping away on her phone.

  “Jonah,” she calls out. “Can I get a ride home? My friend was supposed to pick me up, but she got sick, or something.”

  She’s drunk and stumbles over.

  I view the lot. Where’s Declan?

  I fish my phone out from my jeans and place a quick call to him. It rings and rings.

  “Can I get a ride? I’ve lost my…” she glances around, “everything.”

  I smirk and unloc
k my car. “Get in, drunkie.”

  “I’m not drunk.” Her face squishes together in a cute way.

  “Sure, and I’m Captain America.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers,” she slurs as she climbs into the passenger side of my Jeep.

  She knows who Steve Rogers is. I might be in love. But not with her. I don’t care if she knows the first name of every Avenger.

  She passes out before I even get to the first red light. Lovely.

  After hauling her into my place, I set her down on the black leather sofa and head into my room to get ready for bed.

  Before I crash, I grab a blanket and cover her up. See? I’m not so bad.

  Halfway in the middle of the night, I awake to a sound and roll over. There’s something there. What the fuck?

  The night is heavy, and I can’t see a thing, but there’s definitely a body lying in the bed with me.

  It takes a minute to register the events from earlier tonight, and I smell the coconut shampoo of Chelsea next to me.

  How did she get in my bed?

  She scoots her body closer to mine, and I back away.

  This is weird. Too weird.

  Declan’s little sister is in bed with me.

  She turns and her arm lands along my bare chest. Her big blue eyes open, and she appears lost in a dream. “Jonah,” she mumbles and then is dead to the world.

  Aaaand I’ve got a semi. Not my fault by the way, I just woke up with it. But, now I need it to go away. Quick. I jump out of bed. This is crazy. Not cool.

  Unable to go back to bed, I head down the hallway to my very own personal dark room. Only it’s not dark, and there’s no film. In this day and age, with photoshop and digital cameras, my room is my office with my Mac and all my software.

  I fire up my computer and gaze at the photos I took the other day. Not of models in swimsuits, but of trees in the park. Right when the sun was rising. The rays dancing through the branches. The sweet kiss of dew on each leaf. These are the photos I love to take. This is what really gets me going. These are the pictures I put on my website, Shoot This dot com.

  When drowsiness finally hits again, I head to the couch, where I toss and turn, trying to erase the temptation of Chelsea in my bed.

  4

  Chelsea

  Jonah’s pillow smells like sexy and unrequited teenage love. Mine. I literally and metaphorically release my hold on it. If he’s going to be my roommate, I can’t let his appeal affect me. How did I even get here? I knew I shouldn’t have had those shots. But, I was so nervous being around Jonah, I needed something. I push back the thick, navy comforter and climb out of his big, comfy bed. No hangover and fully clothed, thank God.