* * * * *
From her place in the shadows, Gwenyth covered her mouth with both hands and succumbed to a fit of the giggles. Later, she would have to thank Ed—a man who was generally on the priggish, reserved side—for carrying this scene out to its full artistic culmination.
All Gwenyth had asked Ed to do was to have the assistants he’d hired oil Sam down today, rather than those three college girls who had managed to finagle their often topless modeling jobs out of the Vantrys’ eldest son. Ed had come up with the rest on his own—including adding “Big” to his name. The nipple piercing idea, all the shouted words of praise such as “work it baby”, having Sam strike a pose with an urn on his shoulder Egyptian style…that had all been of Ed’s ingeniously diabolical invention. The man was definitely getting a raise.
With a smile firmly plastered on her face, Gwenyth tiptoed quietly from the terrace and sauntered into the Vantry building. She licked her finger and pretended to chalk one up for herself as she strode through the doors to the Blue Room where Etienne waited her arrival on a staged Atlantis set.
It was high time indeed that Samuel Joseph Tremont learned that Gwenyth Marie Jones could give as good as she gets.
* * * * *
For the next two days of shooting, a battle of wills raged on between Gwenyth and Sam. She would parry, he would thrust. Then Gwenyth would thrust and Sam would parry. It was an endless cycle. And one that Gwenyth was inordinately proud of. She had actually managed to live up to the vow she’d made to herself. She was giving as good as she got.
On the last day of the shoot, however, Sam insisted upon staging another oil rub- down scene for Gwenyth’s benefit, namely to get back at her after his experience with “Big Ed” and his crew. He sat regally on a chair, cocking an arrogant “stop me if you dare” brow at Gwen, as the trio of bikini wearing college models slid their greased-up hands over every square inch of his body.
The brunette perched herself and her generously endowed breasts behind him, slathering up Sam’s shoulders. The redhead stood off to his side, her matching red-nailed fingertips gliding over his chest and belly. The blonde—who had won the coin toss—was sprawled between Sam’s legs, rubbing him up from his toes to the line where his upper thigh and groin met.
And try as Gwenyth might, she simply couldn’t stop the sinking feeling in her tummy from climbing up to her heart. She tried to tell herself it was because Sam had gotten in the last potshot, but the reality of it was she was jealous.
“That feels good, sweetheart. Real good.”
Gwenyth grimaced at Sam’s words of encouragement to the busty blonde whose fingers were trailing dangerously close to his most private part. The coy, ashen-haired seductress was zeroing in closer and closer to the spot she most wanted to caress with every glide of her hand.
“Ahh Tracy. You’ve got great hands, honey.”
Gwenyth spun on her heel and began frantically packing away used rolls of film into her duffel bag. She had to get out of here and let Ed do his job. She wouldn’t watch this scene, couldn’t watch it. It was killing her.
Those girls were beautiful in a way Gwenyth never would be. From their perfectly rounded, surgically enhanced breasts to their hips that didn’t store up any excess fat whatsoever, they were everything she wasn’t. It was like turning sixteen all over again and finding out that Sam had fallen in love with another woman she couldn’t compete with. Three more Stacys. Three younger, nearly topless, g-string-clad Stacys.
“Are you well, chere?”
Gwenyth stood up and turned around to face Etienne. She shrugged her shoulders and offered him a half-hearted smile. She briefly considered prevaricating, but what was the point? “Not really, no.”
Etienne smiled fondly down to her as he raised Gwenyth’s hands and kissed them. “He is za fool, ma belle.”
Gwenyth squeezed Etienne’s hands affectionately. He was always so thoughtful of her. “Thank you for that.” She made to move her hands away, but he didn’t let go. Not understanding, she arched a tawny brow and regarded him.
Etienne sighed. “I know zis is not the best time to try to win your affections, but should you decide to give another man a chance…” He craned his neck downward and pressed his lips to Gwenyth’s forehead. “I should like to be zat man. N’est pas?”
Gwenyth’s eyes rounded in surprise. She’d had no idea Etienne had even thought of her in that light. Ever. It was extremely flattering.
Nodding her head like a marionette, Gwenyth relented. “D’accord.” She grinned. “Okay.”
Etienne released her hands and smiled gently down to her. “I’m certain we shall see one another soon. Au revoir, chere.”
Gwenyth hoisted her duffel bag over her shoulder and smiled back at the too beautiful model. She had to get out of here. “Au revoir, Etienne.”
Gwenyth cast a brief glance in Sam’s direction before spiriting herself toward the elevators. Had she been in a less upset frame of mind, she might have noticed the scowl of possessive jealousy Sam had garnered after seeing Etienne kiss her. Had Gwenyth’s heart not been breaking, she might have stayed long enough to witness Sam throwing the hands of his fawning fans off of him, then standing up to watch Gwenyth’s retreat with a look of helpless defeat about him.
But she didn’t notice. She was too busy swiping the tears from her eyes.
Chapter 12
Sam stomped into the hotel lobby primed for a fight. He had wanted to trail after Gwenyth and have done with this conversation the very second she’d run out of Vantry Sportswear, but Big Ed had clamored for his attention just then, reminding Sam of the fact that they had another hour left of shooting before his obligation to his contract had been fulfilled.
So Sam had stayed, thinking of Cupcake the whole time, and wishing like hell that he’d never allowed those three college models to fondle him. He had seen the hurt in her eyes and recognized immediately that Gwenyth was no longer considering their tit-for-tat tactics of the past two days a game. She was taking it seriously.
Never having been comfortable with emotions such as guilt, Sam had soon twisted the day’s events around in his mind to a point where he could almost believe he was the injured party here. Almost. If he tried really hard.
