Working It Read Online Free PDF Page B

meal, but dismissed the idea. A hot shower, pajamas, and dinner in bed sounded like a much better way to end the long day I’d had.
    After showering, I fell into the fluffy comforter covering the bed and situated my laptop on a pillow on my lap. I double-checked their call times and sent notes to the models for tomorrow. I wasn’t sure why, but the thought of emailing Ben was nerve-racking. My fingers trembled. I considered writing something funny and cute, maybe signing the note Blueberry Muffin Girl . . . but at the last second I chickened out and typed a brief, professionally worded email. No sense flirting with a model; I’d probably just end up looking like an idiot. Surely, hordes of girls threw themselves at him on a daily basis. Though a smiley face couldn’t hurt, could it?
    From: Emerson Clarke
    Subject: Photo Shoot Tomorrow
    Date: May 8, 2013 19:05
    To: Ben Shaw
Ben,
Please arrive at 58 rue de Fleurus at 9 a.m. tomorrow. See you then.
Emmy Clarke
Assistant to Fiona Stone, Status Model Management
    Someone knocked on the door. Room service! My stomach grumbled loudly. After tipping the bellhop, I settled back into the pillows with my food and typed Ben’s name into my browser. Dinner and a show. What could be more perfect? Google Images was my entertainment for the night. Yes, I was developing a serious fetish for him. Sue me.
    My email indicator flashed with a new message, and I silently cursed whoever was interrupting my sick little addiction. I opened my inbox.
Ben Shaw Re: Tomorrow
Tongue!
    I laughed silently to myself, finding it cute that he both noticed my smiley face had its tongue sticking out and took the time to respond. I typed out a response.
Me: Always. :)
    Oh. My. Gosh. This had to be sleep deprivation talking. Who did I think I was, flirting with a supermodel? But I didn’t have to wait long before my inbox informed me there was a new message.
Ben: Naughty little thing, aren’t you, Miss Clarke? I approve.
    I read his reply twice, savoring the fact that he seemed to be flirting back. I didn’t care that I was probably living in an alternate universe. I didn’t want to come back down to earth. Chewing my lip, I hesitated with my fingers over the keyboard.
    Did I ignore this message, or respond? That was the million-dollar question. Obviously, ignoring him was out of the question. Hello, nerves.
Me: Glad you approve.
    I wished my mind was working properly so I could’ve written something witty and sexy. I hit send and took a bite. Before I could even swallow, he’d replied.
Ben: What are you doing?
    I was currently stuffing my face with a delicious sandwich of French bread, butter, and ham, and was pretty sure I had butter smeared on my chin, but I wasn’t about to tell him that I was in bed with a sandwich, wearing my ratty sweatpants with my hair piled up in the world’s messiest bun. Wiping my mouth on a napkin, I swallowed the bite.
Me: In bed. Alone. What about you?
Ben: Alone? That’s no fun.
    I giggled to myself. As I pondered what to write back, another message popped up.
Ben: I’m in bed, too. Just got back from dinner with Fiona.
    Ugh. Her name was like a bucket of ice water on my rising temperature. Suddenly, my sandwich tasted like cardboard. Finding myself no longer quite so famished, I stood and moved the tray of food across the room, setting it on a table beside the door.
Me: Sounds like fun. Hopefully she’s not still mad about earlier.
    A few seconds later, his message flashed in my inbox.
Ben: No, she was fine. That was my fault earlier. She was worried I was going to get sucked into a relationship and have no time for working 24/$7 like I usually do.
    I couldn’t resist what I typed next. I was like a giddy high-schooler having an out-of-body experience. Yes, I was baiting him to get some much-needed intel. Evil. Little. Genius, right there. Ellie would be so proud.
Me: No offense, but I thought a lot of male models were gay.
    I couldn’t help but grin.
Ben: