Hollywood House Call - By Jules Bennett
“I want your body.”
Callie Matthews jerked around to see her boss, her very sexy Hollywood-plastic-surgeon boss standing only a few feet away in the foyer of his office. When he reached behind his back, the lock to the front door slid into place with a quick flick of his wrist.
“Excuse me?” she asked, thankful the office was now closed.
A naughty grin spread across Noah Foster’s face, showcasing that killer smile that never failed to make women weak in the knees as their panties were dropping. Granted, her panties had always remained in place, but still…
Mercy, she was so shallow, because if he so much as crooked a finger for her to follow him into the break room and…
“Hear me out,” he said, holding his hands up. “I know you want to catch your big break by acting—”
O-kay. So they obviously weren’t having the same thoughts about him wanting to tear off her underwear in the break room. Such a shame.
“But,” he went on, oblivious to her naughty thoughts, “I have a proposition for you.”
Those last three words were like music to her ears. That break-room fantasy might come true after all.
“I have an upcoming ad campaign I’d like you to model for.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. What?”
Model? The chubby teen that still lived inside her nearly laughed. But Callie had long since left that girl behind in Kansas.
Noah moved toward her, never taking his gaze from hers, never breaking that signature smile. “I’d like you to do the modeling for the ad to launch my new office across town.”
Callie came to her feet and moved around the desk. “Obviously, you haven’t thought this through.”
He raked his eyes down her body, sending all kinds of yummy thoughts swirling through her overactive imagination. “Oh, but I have. And it’s you I want.”
Oh, baby. If only those words were used under different circumstances.
“You have tons of clients you could use,” she told him as she turned and marched down the hall to the lounge to retrieve her purse. “Besides, I’ve never modeled.”
Like most transplants to L.A., Callie had come eager to be the next actress that would make Hollywood directors and producers sit up in their chairs and take notice of her remarkable talents. Unfortunately, her agent couldn’t get her any auditions that weren’t embarrassing. So far she’d done a commercial for zit cream and one for STD meds. Yeah, not the claim to fame she’d been hoping for. But she had to start somewhere, right?
Wait, maybe that whole STD thing was why Noah wasn’t so interested in seeing her outside the office. He did know that was purely acting…didn’t he? She was free and clear in that department, especially considering her lack of sexual experience. Not that she was a virgin, but she might as well be for the two pathetic encounters she’d had.
“I just want a few pictures of you, Callie.” Noah followed her and rested an impressive broad shoulder against the doorjamb. “The ads we’re going for will showcase the natural side of surgery, how to stay young and fresh.”
Callie mimicked his action and crossed her own arms over her chest and leaned against the counter. “But other than that minor chin scar you did microdermabrasion on, I haven’t had anything else done. Isn’t that false advertising?”
“Not at all,” he argued. “If you had never been a client, then that would be false advertisement. But you’re perfect, Callie. You’re beautiful, the camera will love you, and you’ll be on billboards across town. Tell me you don’t want that kind of exposure.”
Well, this was a giant step up from zit cream and STDs.
“You think this will help with my acting?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It can’t hurt.”
There was a role coming up in an Anthony Price film that she would give anything for, and her agent had yet to get her an audition. But maybe if she had the right connections…
“I have a proposition to throw back at you,” she countered.
Dark brows drew together as his eyes narrowed. “You make me nervous when you get that look. Last time you had a lightbulb moment we ended up with a cappuccino machine in the break room that shot mystery liquid all over the walls and the floor.”
She waved a hand through the air. “Minor technical difficulty.”
He sighed. “Let’s hear it, Callie.”
“You talk to Olivia Dane about getting me an audition for this upcoming film of Anthony’s and I’ll pose for you.”
If Noah called the Grande Dane of Hollywood, who just so happened to