Skin Read Online Free PDF Page B

looked like it had a kink near the torpedo-shaped head. Like someone had stepped on it and broken it. She flinched at the notion. Not one of the four models she’d seen had become even semiaroused after her direction to strip.
    Grimacing at her cold drink, she set the paper cup on her desk. She started to load the digital pictures of Reese onto her computer. “So tell me a little about yourself” — she glanced at the file in front of her — “Enrique.”
    “I’ve been the top producing male model at Images for the last three years. You’d be stupid not to hire me.” He grinned wide, showing two rows of perfectly capped teeth. “I guarantee I can get your circulation up.”
    So now the models were telling her how to run her business. She slipped on her reading glasses and peered at him from above them. She was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Reese’s grin darted into her thoughts.
If you’re so smart, hire me.
She scowled and said, “As opposed to getting your cock up?”
    His eyes widened.
    Ignoring his surprise, Frankie stood and came around to the front of her desk. She leaned against it and spread her legs slightly, jutting out her substantial breasts. She could thank her Italian heritage for the breasts and her gypsy mother for her length of leg. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared at him.
    He nodded and smiled, his face morphing into the sexy Latin lover milieu. “I am very good at what I do, sexy lady. Give me a chance to show you my work.”
    He snapped at her, showing his big white teeth. She jumped, the edge of her desk cutting into her ass. She was going to be black and blue by the end of the day. “I find you hot,
mamacita. Mucho caliente.”
    Oh, for crying out loud. And she thought she’d seen and heard it all.
    Beyond bored, she dropped her gaze to his flaccid penis. “Too bad little Ricky doesn’t.” She unfolded herself, walked back to her desk, and sat down. “Zip up, Enrique. We’ll give you a call if we’re interested.”
    As the door closed with a window-shaking slam, she clicked through the pictures she took of Reese. Her reaction was instant. Her skin came to life. Her earlier boredom dissipated. Damn,
he
was
mucho caliente.
The man wasn’t bashful and she felt proud that he came to attention so quickly for her. There was no doubting Reese’s sexuality.
    Experience told her if she couldn’t get even a slight wave from a cock, the guy sporting it was either gay or on drugs. She’d learned the hard way that while gay models were the crème de la crème in the looks and physique department, if her readers suspected or knew outright the model was less than hetero, they didn’t buy. When it happened in the past, she’d received more than a few nasty letters and e-mails and even a few threats to sue her for false advertising. So now she went strictly with the real deal.
    So, while she couldn’t outright ask a model if he was gay, she had her hetero-meter. Herself. Reese came right to attention. In fact, she couldn’t remember a cock saluting so nicely and so quickly. She clicked through the pictures again. Indecision flared again. Her instinct told her she was making a colossal mistake by letting Reese slip through her fingers. Her emotions told her to run as far away from him as possible.
    She pounded her fists on her desktop and winced at the pain shooting up her arm.
    How would her father make his decision? The answer was simple: with no emotion. Papa would do whatever was necessary to ensure
Skin
’s survival — even if that meant putting himself at risk, emotionally or financially.
    Frankie unclenched her fists. What was best for
Skin
was a specific model who was guaranteed to be temperamental and manipulative, with the potential to disrupt her carefully controlled life. He was also one she couldn’t afford.
    Her mood darkened at the implications of hiring Reese. A war waged inside of her. Her gut instincts
versus
fear.
“Go with your gut,