Page 23 of Frankly, My Dear

“One hundred thousand dollars.”

He gasped, then quickly controlled his composure. “You lie.”

“I do not lie. It’s hard work. I’ve struggled to establish a reputation. And I am beautiful.”

He still looked skeptical.

“Listen, do you even know what a model does?” She could tell by the blank expression on his face that he did not. “Okay, just sit there and I’ll show you. Pretend you’re the photographer, and I’m modeling, oh, let’s say a new hair product. But it could be anything—clothing, makeup, even…” She was about to say cars, but quickly amended, “…carriages.”

She walked a few feet away to a white birch tree and mentally psyched herself for her poses.

“First we’ll go for innocence,” she said, leaning against the tree trunk and setting her face into a demure expression, peeking up at him shyly through half-lowered lashes.

A tiny crack in James’s implacability showed in his softening expression of curiosity.

“Then there is the playful look.” Quick as a wink, she grabbed onto a low branch and swung herself up. With her legs swinging freely, she laughed mischievously and smiled widely, then held the pose.

“Come down from there. At once,” James hissed, scandalized by her unladylike behavior. He stepped forward, prepared to come after her. “This is a public park.”

She dropped down and added quickly, “Then there is sexy.”

He halted immediately. And waited watchfully.

Selene pressed her shoulder blades to the tree trunk, arched her back so that her breasts jutted forward, tossed her huge mane of hair, licked her lips, and then gazed at him invitingly through sultry, half-lidded eyes.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” he whispered hoarsely. The interest in James’s smoldering eyes and tense body was unmistakable.

Before he had a chance to pounce on her, Selene plunged on, “Of course, sometimes I do runway modeling, as well.” She walked some distance down the sidewalk from him, ignoring the passersby who watched her curiously. “Imagine music playing, very loud and upbeat.” Selene pulled out all the stops then, strutting her stuff for James, using every bit of expertise she’d gained over the years. With long, fluid strides and swinging arms, hips swaying seductively, she sashayed back and forth in front of him with a springy bounce to her steps, flashing haughty glances, then blatantly sensual body language of invitation.

At first his wonderfully firm lips remained rigid with displeasure. Then she noticed a slight twitching at the edges. Throwing his hands out in resignation, he broke into a full-fledged grin. “You win,” he said with a laugh, pulling her down to the bench beside him.

Selene smiled back at him, unsure whether he meant that he now believed she had been a model, or that she was, in fact, beautiful. She was afraid to ask.

“We’ve got to get back to the hotel,” James said and shifted on his seat, about to stand.

Selene realized they still hadn’t discussed the jobs he’d mentioned for her. “James, you told Lizette that I was going to be your governess and help your mother. Did you mean that?”

He raked his fingers through his thick hair and shook his head slightly, as if he must be crazy. “Oui, it appears I have no choice. My brother is a vengeful man. He probably has us watched even now. The minute you are alone, even boarding a steamboat for New York, he would capture you.”

“For what purpose?”

“He needs no purpose. Perhaps he would rape you and keep you as his mistress for a while, but somehow I doubt that. He has his own placée on Rampart Street. Besides, you are not quite to his usual tastes,” he commented, sweeping her with a cursory glance.

“There you go again, denigrating my appearance.”

“That’s not what I meant. Victor prefers young women, very young. Tiny…fragile in appearance. And most definitely colored. He likes the master-slave relationship. It fits well with the sadistic pleasure he gets from humiliation and pain.”

“That’s not a very pretty picture you paint of your brother.”

“He’s not a nice man, make no mistake about that. You would not like being in his clutches.”

Selene sighed wearily. “I’m sorry about all this, James. I know you don’t want to be responsible for me.”

“What’s one more person, one more burdensome responsibility?” he remarked enigmatically and stood, then pulled her up beside him.

As they walked along the banquette, the sun beat down on them in unrelenting waves and Selene could feel perspiration beading at her armpits and between her breasts. She squinted up at him, noticing that the grim lines of bitterness had returned to etch his eyes and mouth.

“What about this fiancée business?” she persisted. “How are you going to explain that relationship away?”