Wheeler (Seattle Sharks 8)

“You wore the blue.”

“You said you liked it.”

“Hi, Lukas!” a model called out, wiggling her fingers at me as she walked toward us, dressed in a simple black sheath.

I waved back. There were easily two dozen models on set, all dressed identically, but that one was Mila Vonovitch, and I’d spent a night tangled up with her about a year ago.

“I’m so glad I got the call for this,” she said, waltzing up to where Faith and I stood at the edge of the set. “I’ve missed you.” She nipped the edge of her glossed lip in a practiced gesture.

Funny how Faith could bring me to my knees with that little maneuver, but Mila didn’t so much as stir my blood. Whenever Faith did that, it was because she was torn about something. Mila did it as skilled flirtation.

“It’s good to see you,” I answered. She was perfect for the ad, the kind of aesthetic beauty that pleased the eye, but didn’t make it linger.

“Maybe I can see you again after we wrap?” she whispered seductively, her fingers grazing the lapels of my suit coat as she leaned up to whisper in my ear.

Faith stiffened next to me.

And this was where my past came to bite me in the ass. Excellent.

“I’m afraid not,” I replied, gently removing her hands from my chest. “We have a full schedule tonight.”

Mila’s eyes widened for a second before they narrowed, the honey-brown orbs focusing quickly on Faith as she rocked back on her stilettos.

“Yep,” Faith answered with a sharp smile. “Sorry, but he’s booked solid. Washing his hair at nine p.m., Netflix marathon starting at ten. But check back next week, and I’ll see if I can squeeze you in.”

I locked my jaw to keep from laughing. Faith was territorial and she didn’t even realize it.

“Netflix?” Mila hissed.

I shrugged.

“He’s smack in the middle of Gilmore Girls,” Faith nodded. “Season three.”

My hands eagerly accepted the water the assistant brought back, and I quickly thanked her and chugged.

“Gilmore Girls…” Mila flat-out glared at Faith.

“Yep. He’s shipping Lorelai and Luke something fierce.”

How the hell did Faith keep a straight face?

Mila turned that glare on me, and I shrugged again. “It’s their chemistry. Can you blame me?”

Mila scoffed, then turned on her heel and strode away, heading toward the gaggle of models taking their notes from the director.

“For fuck’s sake, drink this,” I said, thrusting my bottle of water into her hand. Of course, the assistant had forgotten Faith’s. “Maybe it will put out the flames.”

Faith rolled her eyes but accepted the water.

“Stranger Things,” I muttered.

“What?” Faith asked as the director headed our way.

“I’m in the middle of Stranger Things.” She hadn’t been too far off about my Netflix habits. Hey, anything to keep my mind off fucking the delicious redhead at my side.

“Lukas,” Robert Martinson said with a smile as he reached us, trailed by two assistants. “You’re doing great. First shots look wonderful.”

“Thank you.” We’d already shot the opening images of the ad, where I’d started almost nude to being fully dressed in Adrenaline.

“So I want to change up the original idea,” he said with an excited grin. “Mila just presented a great idea.”

My stomach tensed. “Oh?”

“So the original idea was you walking through the party, headed for Mila, and it ending with her smile, right?” His eyebrows moved in an almost comical way.

“Right…” I wasn’t sure I liked any idea that involved Mila at the moment. “The whole be an original theme.”

That’s why all the women were in simple black dresses, and the men black suits.

“Exactly. But instead of you walking onto the balcony to her smile, I want you to walk straight up to her and kiss her.” He nodded with enthusiasm.

Bile rose in my throat.

“Isn’t that perfect? Shows you as the alpha male all men want to be, which is pretty much spot on for your branding, right?”

Faith drew in a shaky breath, which jarred me from my paralysis.

“The brand is about honoring the primal male in us all. It’s about embracing confidence, sexuality, drive, and ambition without apology.” It sure as fuck wasn’t about kissing Mila.

“Right. And what says all of that better than kissing the most beautiful woman at the party without speaking a word? Letting us feel that chemistry between you, that sexual tension?”

Good God, the man was nearly vibrating with excitement.

“I’m not sure—”

“What’s more primal than claiming your woman?” he challenged.

Faith glanced at me, but I couldn’t look away from Robert. “What, indeed?” I asked quietly.

Fuck me, every nerve in my body screamed with the need to bury myself inside Faith on a daily basis. Even now, I wanted to put my hand at the small of her back, wanted to stroke her curls back from her face, needed every man on set to know she was spoken for—know she was mine.

Robert was right in that regard. It was primal.

“Mila assured me that she was okay with the on-screen kiss,” Robert urged, somehow sensing my shift in thought.

“I bet she did,” Faith muttered.

“She said you two...knew each other, so the chemistry would be palpable, and that’s really what we need here. You want people to watch you, to want to be you in these clothes. We need it to evoke want, and need, and envy. It’s a good idea, right?”

It was. He just had the wrong person.

“I’ll do it.”

“You will?” His smile was nearly laughable.

“You will?” Faith’s tone was anything but.

“On one condition.” I folded my arms across my chest and looked down at the shorter man.

“Name it.”

“I kiss Faith.” I nodded toward the redhead at my side. The one who gawked up at me with an open mouth.

“You what?” she asked, her eyebrows skyrocketing.

“Who is Faith?” Robert asked.

“Only you,” I said to Faith, my voice lowering.

“Your assistant?” Robert balked. “I mean, you’re the boss, but she’s not…”

“Not what?” I snapped in his direction.

“Not a model,” he finished quietly, his eyes assessing Faith.

She stood up straight and shot him a look that sent a wordless opinion of his appraisal.

“You’re right. I’m the boss, Robert. And it’s a good idea. But if you want it to happen, then it happens with Faith, or it doesn’t happen. Period. You want to make the be an original statement? There’s no woman on this set, or in Seattle, or hell, the world like Faith. She’s a burning flame in your sea of…” I pointed toward the sea of models, “ice. And if you want palpable chemistry, then trust me, you want her on that balcony.”

Robert blinked, looking at Faith differently. “She isn’t...classic—”

“Be very careful,” I seethed.

“—but she’s striking. And you’re right. She’s nothing like the women we cast. She’ll stand out.”

“She has an opinion,” Faith interjected.

“That, I leave to you,” Robert shrugged. “Good luck.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Faith asked, her voice a low hiss.

Robert reached the rest of the cast and staff, and their heads all turned toward us. I promptly moved to stand in front of Faith, blocking them from her sight. She craned her head back to look me in the eye.

Fuck, I loved that she never backed down.

“I have three reasons for you to say yes.” I cupped her face in both of my hands, uncaring that it was crossing about a million different lines.

“Do any of them have to do with the fact that you sign my paychecks?” Her eyes spat fire at me, exactly the way I liked them.

“No.” I shook my head and let my thumb run over the soft skin of her bottom lip. “First, he’s right. There’s nothing more primal than a man’s need to claim his woman, and if it’s going to be authentic, it has to be you. I can’t fake that with anyone else.”

“Oh.” Her lips parted, and her emerald eyes softened.

“Second...” My thumb dipped along the inside of her lip, just enough to feel the light skim of her tongue as she caressed her intruder. I sucked in a breath at the sensation. “I haven’t so much as kissed another woman since the moment I decided that you were my endgame. I won’t do it unless it’s you, period. The commercial isn’t worth having another woman’s mouth under mine.”

Pleasure shot straight down my spine as I felt the bite of her nails in my side.