Billionaire's Single Mom

Keith cleared the room while Margie fetched me some more ice for my water. I knew from experience that those studio lights could get hot, and being dressed from head to toe in skin-tight leather was only going to make it worse.

Keith guided me to the green scre

en stage where the new All-American motorcycle was standing, looking sleek and modern, while still holding on to a retro vibe. It was perfect. I started to pose with the bike like I'd seen other models do, but Keith stopped me instantly.

"No, straddle the bike like you're actually riding it. We'll cue the fans and it will look like you're actually cruising down the highway with the wind in your hair.

I straddled the bike, and a half dozen assistants started buzzing around me like butterflies, straightening my clothes, arranging my hair, and adjusting the folds of the top half of my riding suit to cover my nipples while still exposing the majority of my breasts. It was awkward and embarrassing, and I felt incredibly self-conscious. As Keith cued the fans, I was blasted by wind and a series of harsh lights suddenly turned on all around me, blinding me.

"Okay, kid. Now smile for the camera and try to look natural. Let's see that happy, carefree, all-American look that got you the job." Keith tried to be encouraging, but what he asked of me was impossible. How could I look casual and care-free when I felt completely ill-at-ease?

Keith did everything he could to get the look he wanted, making changes to the lighting, adjusting the fans, changing the position of the bike, the angels of the cameras, and the way I was sitting. In the end, it became clear that this just plain wasn't going to work.

"Stop. Let's all take a break. Margie, get Kayla some water. Crew, take 15. We may need to just wrap for the day and start again with a new model tomorrow." Keith sounded as frustrated as I felt. I hated to disappoint him, but I didn't know what else I could do. It looked like I was going to lose my big break, not because of Ethan, but because of myself. Perhaps Mick was right: maybe I was too uptight to make it in this business.

"Thank you, Margie." I took the bottle of ice-cold water gratefully from the hand holding it out to me, but as I took a swallow my eyes flew open wide to realize it wasn't Margie who had handed it to me. "Ethan? What are you doing here?"

"I own the company. I can go where I want," he said with an easy smirk that let me know he was teasing.

I had to remind myself not to fall prey to his charms and forced my face into an angry scowl when I really wanted to smile. "I told you that if you bothered me with your stalking again, I would call the police. I'm here professionally, that's all. Now please remove yourself from where I'm working."

"You won't be working at all if Keith has his way. Let me help you. I know you can do this."

"You don't know me," I argued, but inside, I was desperate for help and grateful to him for offering.

"Yes, I do. I know you from that day we went riding together. Remember? Forget these lights, those camera lenses staring at you, and this silly costume I know you'd never really wear. Close your eyes and just listen to the sound of my voice."

I cocked my left brow at him distrustfully, but he insisted with such charismatic power, I couldn't resist.

"Close them. Good girl. Now, just listen to the sound of my voice. We're on our matching bikes, me in front and you in the rear. I lead you out to that country road behind the corporate headquarters. The sun is shining down on your skin; the wind is blowing over your face and through your hair. We round the gentle curve into the straightaway, and you take the opportunity to throttle up and go buzzing past me.

“Now you're in the lead with nothing before you but the open country road. Can you feel it? Can you feel the wind and the warmth of the sun? Can you feel the freedom running through your veins and the power of the engine humming between your thighs? You can go as fast you want to go, for as far as the road will take you, over the horizon and beyond."

As Ethan spoke softly to me, Keith silently waved the crew back to their stations.

As I listened to Ethan's words, I forgot about the uncomfortable suit and worrying about my bare breasts popping out, and I just remembered the emotions of that day when we'd gone riding together. I didn't know it, but my face began to glow with happiness as a smile of pure joy curved the corners of my lips.

As Ethan backed away from me, he said, "You can do anything you want in this world, Kayla. I believe in you. It's why I picked you for this job. Now open your eyes and give me that beautiful smile that is uniquely yours."

I did, and the one thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Ethan standing right behind the camera, watching me with those intense gray eyes and smiling at me with a look of pure admiration and pride. It made me feel beautiful, interesting, confident, and ready to take on the world.

I smiled back at him, giving the camera everything I had from sexy to playful to serious to sweet. The cameras captured it all, giving the editors choices for every mood they might possibly want to print on the cover and providing for a very diverse and interesting photo spread within the pages of the magazine. It was very successful shoot, and by the time it was over, I felt exhausted and yet very proud of what I had done.

"Great job everyone, especially you, Kayla," Keith beamed as the crew started packing up their equipment. "I had thought we should go with a more experienced model, but Ethan insisted that you were our girl, and he was definitely right. We'll sell a record number of bikes after this issue comes out because of you, and every magazine in the country is going to be knocking on your door, begging you to model for them."

"Thanks, but I'm sure that has a lot more to do with Ethan's design and brilliant business sense than my picture." I blushed, unused to such praise.

"Yeah, but it was that business sense that caused him to pick you for the job," Keith pointed out and then left before I could say anything in return.

"Great job today," Margie bubbled as she helped me change out of the jumpsuit in the wardrobe room. "The crew always goes out for drinks after a shoot to celebrate. Do you want to come along?"

"Thanks, but my boyfriend is waiting for me. I think I'll just take shower and go home."

"I'll stay and help you get dressed," Margie offered happily. "I can do your hair if you like."

"No, thanks. You go out with the crew and relax. You worked hard today. Besides, I'd rather just enjoy a good, hot shower by myself."

"Okay. The cleaning crew is still here and security will let you out. I hope one day we get to work together again."