Gold Diggers Read Online Free PDF Page A

Charlie had made her giggle all day long, doing impressions of Stefan the surly Swedish photographer, and chasing the three tiny bridesmaids around the studio creating pandemonium. He was good looking, too, in a preppy, Ralph Lauren kind of way, she thought. Although not my type at all , she corrected herself quickly. Summer tended to go for oldermen – rich, older men – something her mother had drilled into her since she was a girl.
    ‘He might be handsome,’ she could hear her mum saying, ‘but can a handsome man get you a private jet?’ No, Charlie was no more than her age, and the last time she had been out with a twenty-four-year-old she had been sixteen – and, even then, he’d been a banking heir.
    ‘Right now, I want something sexy, something romantic,’ said Stefan sternly. ‘Charlie, can you move to the side of the staircase?’ he directed. ‘And slip your arm around Summer’s waist.’
    Charlie moved in close. Bloody hell, he was handsome. Narrow green eyes framed by sooty lashes, clear, lightly tanned skin, a mop of dark blond hair. Without the square jaw he would have been pretty, but the angles of his face toughened him up like a fifties film star. ‘Now, I want you to kiss her gently on the lips.’
    Awkwardly, Summer turned her head, feeling her heart beat faster as his lips brushed hers. Charlie was so good looking it was hard to be completely professional, to dissociate desire like you were turning off a tap. It had been over a year since she’d had any sort of intimate contact: despite her looks, Summer rarely dated.
    ‘Come on, Summer. You’re supposed to have just married this guy!’ shouted Sally. ‘Don’t look at him as if you’re scared stiff.’
    Summer forced a smile and moved closer to Charlie as Sally and her assistant began throwing silver and white balloons into the shot.
    ‘Come on, pretend that you love me,’ Charlie whispered with a soft smile. ‘Then we can all go home.’
    The highly strung photographer threw his hands up in the air in frustration. ‘These British!’ he moaned. ‘They are so uptight!’
    Sally Stevenson rushed in, clapping her hands. ‘Okay, thank you everyone, that was great,’ she said, lifting her hands above her head for the traditional end-of-shoot applause.
    ‘So, who wants to come for a drink?’ she asked, looking hopefully at Charlie, who she had booked specially because she fancied him.
    ‘Don’t mind if I do …’ he said, not taking his eyes off Summer as he spoke.
    Summer went into the bathroom to take the thick foundation off her face. She scrambled out of the creamy meringue. Bloody wedding shoots, she thought, staring into the mirror. Then again, she wasn’t exactly Kate Moss, was she?
    Come on, Summer, get real and stop grumbling , she chided herself. A fashion shoot for Your Wedding wasn’t the edgy, ground-breaking high-fashion editorial she had dreamt of doing when she had first started modelling; but at least it was work, something she hadn’t had a great deal of since Christmas. At twenty-four, Summer knew that her modelling shelf-life was running out.
    Charlie McDonald was waiting for her in the marbled hall, swatting at the balloons as the bridesmaids were bundled into thick duffle coats by their beaming parents.
    ‘Are you coming for that drink?’ asked Charlie, throwing his bag over his shoulder.
    ‘Only if you’re buying,’ said Summer playfully.
    ‘So, how come I haven’t seen you in castings before?’ asked Charlie as they walked towards the door.
    ‘I’ve been out of the country for the last few years.’
    ‘Oh yeah? New York?’
    ‘Japan,’ said Summer, a little embarrassed. She knew Tokyo was considered rather down-market as far as modelling was concerned. The very top girls went to New Yorkwhere they could make millions of dollars, while the tall, skinny girls went to Paris where they would make couture dresses look even more exclusive and luxurious. Toyko barely even made it onto the fashion