International Guy: Milan (International Guy Series Book 4) Read online

  T-Bone nods. “Mm-hmm, yes, I see that.”

  “Some of the women in the more revealing outfits could walk down with their partners, where you can have a simple pair of men’s pajamas, underwear, or robes to match the women’s outfits. Two designs appealing to the average woman. And believe me, women like to match their men any chance they get. It would also resonate with women getting married or having an anniversary, etc.”

  “Yes, yes, I can envision it so clearly. It will be done. I can design a few unique, simple items for a man in no time.”

  He moves over to a drafting table in his workroom and starts sketching, ignoring the lot of us while doing so.

  “I think that’s enough for now,” I say. “I have more ideas, but let’s start there and let him work. Ladies? You ready to get into your street clothes and work on the art of walking a runway?”

  A bunch of snickers and giggles are heard throughout the room.

  “Go get changed and meet us out in the back of the warehouse. We’ll practice outside.”

  The women file out, seeming happier than when we arrived. I chance a glance at T-Bone, but he’s lost in his work, flicking from sketching something to picking up a fabric swatch and laying it next to something he sketched.

  “Come on, brother. I believe catwalks are your department.”

  Bo cocks an eyebrow. “My mother being a designer doesn’t make me an expert on modeling.”

  “Don’t lie. I know your history. You were walking a runway before you could run. Besides, I believe you’ve bedded enough models to make you a certifiable expert.”

  He grins wickedly. “Now that is no lie.”

  I chuckle and hook an arm over his shoulder. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

  “You’re kidding!” Skyler scoffs. “He wanted them to prance around in next to nothing and make lewd movements on the runway? Did you remind him these women are not porn stars?”

  I chuckle. “Baby, I know. It was rather disgusting, but he honestly thought he was empowering them by setting them free to express their sexuality.”

  “Nuh-uh, no way. He was demeaning them in the worst way. Making them objects. Ugh.” She sighs.

  “I know, but Bo and I have got him back on the right path. His team is already working on some matching looks for some of the women’s partners, as well as adding robes and things to make a woman feel more flirty and comfortable in the bedroom.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I’m flirting with the idea of having standing mirrors put on the stage.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Well, in my experience, when a woman likes the way she looks, she checks herself out in her mirror. Makes sure every angle looks perfect. I think when you see yourself looking good, you have more confidence and feel sexier.”

  “This is true. I definitely check the mirror a ton of times before committing to whatever I’m going to wear for the day.”

  “And I imagine you do the same when you put on lingerie?” It’s a leading question, and I can’t wait to hear her answer.

  Her voice changes into the sultry lilt I love. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teases.

  I groan. “Seriously, women do that, right?”

  She giggles softly. “Yeah, honey, we do. We always want to look and feel our best, so of course we check out how we look in the mirror, especially when we put on lingerie.”

  “Excellent. Then I think I’m going to add mirrors to the side of the runway. Not only would it allow the audience and cameras to capture different angles of the designs, it would serve the women in seeing how magical they look under the low, flickering lights.”

  “It’s a great idea, Parker. I wish I could see it for myself.”

  “Come out,” I say instantly without thinking.

  She groans. “I wish I could, honey, but I have to work. The long weekend was the last one for a little while. We have to get these scenes right, and we have some difficult ones coming up.”

  “Oh? What types of scenes?”

  “Parker . . . ,” she says in warning.

  I grind my teeth until I can feel a muscle ticking in my jaw. “Sexual ones.”

  “You know it’s my job, honey. Out of anyone I know, you are the person I’d hope could understand that there are parts of being an actress that put me in precarious and often uncomfortable positions . . .”

  “Like it’s uncomfortable to kiss and rub your sexy-as-fuck body all over his,” I snarl rather immaturely.

  “So, we’re going there?” Her tone is accusing.

  “I don’t like it. Knowing another man is kissing you, tasting your lips, your skin. Touching your body.”

  Images of me doing those very things flash through my mind, and I press my head farther back into the pillow. I’m trying to get ahold of myself when the phone line goes dead.

  She hung up on me.

  What the fuck!

  Tingles of dread and aggravation slither up my spine and out my limbs. Until my phone rings showing a FaceTime request from Peaches.

  I click the button, and her gorgeous face comes into view.

  “I thought it better we have this discussion face-to-face.”

  “I’m sorry,” I blurt, taking in her kind chocolate-brown eyes and pretty pink lips. Her face is devoid of makeup and still unearthly beautiful. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid and immature.”

  She nods. “Yes, but it was real and honest. Parker, I want you to always feel comfortable telling me the truth. If this is going to work between us, we have to promise to be honest with one another in all things. I’ve had too many people let me down. I can’t be worrying about such things with you.”

  “Sky, baby, I’ll never let you down. Not intentionally. And I’m sorry I’m a jealous jerk.”

  She grins. “Maybe I’ll start calling you JJ when you’re acting out of hand.”

  I chuckle. “Could work as a reminder.”

  A crisis averted. Yet the clawing of the green-eyed monster is real.

  “Are you going to be okay, knowing what I have to do in my job? It’s not ever going to change. I can promise you, while I take the roles and characters very seriously, it’s all pretend. I’m not kissing Rick or any costar and thinking of how it might feel. I’m constantly in my head ensuring the angle of the kiss is good for the camera, my body placement will look ideal on the big screen, and I’m covering parts I don’t want an audience to see. Besides, it’s very clinical.”

  “Really?” I guess, in my head, I assumed they were pretending to kiss and fuck and have it be caught on camera.

  “Yes really, silly.” She chuckles, no further admonishment in her tone. “There’s no less than ten to twelve people on set, with the lighting crew, cameras, director, and makeup, and all the while we’re attempting to make the scene look real. As though we’re genuinely the characters, in love or lust, or whatever it may be at that stage in the movie. A lot of times we shoot all of the sexy scenes at the end when we have more chemistry, so it usually starts to grate on both of our nerves.”

  “Wow. I hadn’t really considered how much went into a scene.”

  “I promise, it’s a lot. Then as the day goes on, your costar starts to stink from being sprayed with mist and makeup and working to hold his arms just right. So halfway through I’m smelling stinky man funk and worse . . .”

  My girl has me laughing, and I want to know more. “What?” I chuckle, enjoying her face screwing up into an expression of distaste as she makes a little gagging noise.

  “Rick loves onions. On everything.” She shivers, and I bust out laughing hard. “You laugh now, but try open-mouth kissing someone whose breath constantly smells and tastes like secondhand, chewed-up onions! It’s super nasty.”

  “You’re kidding.” I continue laughing into my fist while staring at my beautiful woman.

  “I wish I were.”

  “Baby, give the man a freakin’ Tic Tac!” I laugh some more.

  She smiles wide. �
�I couldn’t do that! It would be rude, and I have to work with him.”

  “Better making him uncomfortable than having to suck face with a raw onion.”

  Her face twists into a grimace. “Blech. You’re reminding me I have another scene coming up. I have to go into makeup, and then we’re shooting some super-fast action shot where, at the end, he grabs me and kisses me.” She frowns. “I don’t want to taste onions. I don’t even like onions!”

  “Aw, I’m sorry, Peaches. Remember what I said . . . offer the man a mint!”

  She sits up and moves her arms around in front of her. The way she’s got the camera of the phone leaning against something, I can’t see what she’s doing exactly.

  “Eureka!” She pulls out a small blue plastic case. “Listerine strips, baby!”

  I chuckle. “Perfect. Now take one right before the scene and offer him one. If he tries to decline, tell him if he wants to kiss you as the scene requires, he needs to man up.”

  She pouts. “I don’t want to do it, but I can’t live with onion-face kisses anymore.”

  I grin. “At least I know my role in your world as best kisser is safe.”

  “Who said you were the best kisser?”

  I’m pretty sure my face pales before she bursts out in laughter. “Just kidding, pretty boy. You’re a mighty fine kisser.”

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  “How’s about you come and visit me soon, so I don’t have to?” She bites her lip, seeming as if she’s afraid to mention what I promised.

  “Actually, I have Wendy routing my trip home after the fashion show on Saturday. Should arrive late Sunday night.”

  “Really?” Her face lights up with her megawatt smile, which reminds me my girlfriend is Skyler freakin’ Paige. Dream girl. Most sought-after actress in Hollywood. And she’s all mine.

  I feel my chest puffing up with pride at making her happy, especially since the reason she’s happy is as simple as her wanting to see me.

  “Yeah, baby. I want to see how you work, watch you in action. Then I want to take you back to your penthouse and ravish you oh, say, one, two, twenty times.”

  “I’d like that.” Her cheeks pink up prettily, and I hope she’s imagining us together.

  “Then you shall have it. Though Peaches, I gotta go. It’s late here, and I have to teach a bunch of women who’ve never modeled before how to walk a runway.”

  Skyler frowns. “Honey, do you even know how to do that?”

  I shake my head. “No, but Bogart does, and he’s lead tomorrow. I’m there to offer up the best positions for camera angles and what will make them look and feel sexy in garments they wouldn’t normally wear except in the privacy of their bedroom.”

  “You do have a knack for making a woman feel sexy. That’s for sure.”

  “Oh yeah? Tell me more.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I thought you had to go to bed?”

  “I thought you had makeup to put on.”

  She purses her lips together. “Maybe I want to make sure my man goes to bed happy and thinking of me?”

  “Yeah?” I focus a lust-filled gaze on my dream girl.

  She licks her lips and bites down on the bottom one.

  Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to be there right now, sucking on that lip.

  “Yeah. What would make you happiest right now?”

  “You offering a little FaceTime play, Peaches?”

  She glances at something off camera. “I’ve got about twenty more minutes if you want to use them wisely.”

  “Perfect fuckin’ woman,” I murmur.

  “Honey . . . I’m not . . .”

  She starts to deny her perfection, but I cut her off at the quick.

  “Skyler, take your top off and show me your tits.”

  A huge grin crosses her face, and she cocks a brow but pulls off her top, unclicks her bra, and all I see are sweet, pink-tipped breasts. My mouth waters at the sight, and I groan.

  “You’ve proved it. Perfect.” I slide my hand down and under my boxer briefs, taking a firm hold of my raging erection.

  “What else do you want to see?” Her tone is whisper soft and needy.

  “All of you. Peaches, I want all of you.”

  6

  “No, sweetheart, you don’t pucker your lips like a blowfish.” Bo lets out what looks like a tortured breath as I enter the dance room we’ve rented from a local ballet studio.

  Once we’d established they truly knew absolutely nothing about modeling, showing off lingerie, or anything remotely fashion related, we knew we were going to have to take a more hands-on, one-on-one approach with the women.

  “Ladies, how’s about we stop for a minute. I’d like you all to set up those chairs in the corner in a line of four across and three deep for all twelve of you. We’re going to try something a little different today.” I give them my best smile, so they know we’re not mad at the lack of progress they’ve made.

  The lingerie show is going to have a wardrobe change for each model for a total of twenty-four looks, so we need to get these ladies showing their sexy side or International Guy could have our first unhappy client.

  Bo walks over to me and sighs. “Man, I’ve been at it all morning. When they aren’t nervous, they’re acting silly. When they aren’t silly, they’re looking at me with a deer-in-the-headlights stare. I hope you’ve got something up your sleeve, because frankly, bro, I’m losing patience.”

  Instead of speaking, I smile wide, waltz over to the door, and open it.

  In sashay three women. All three have hourglass figures with giant knockers, abundant hips, and smallish waists. They’re Jessica Rabbit come to life.

  Bo’s eyes practically bug out of his head. “Jesus Christ . . . a gift. Brother, you shouldn’t have.” He gasps and sucks in a breath through his teeth, making a whistling sound as he does so. “Though I gotta say, I’m glad you did.” Bo starts to follow the three moving to the front of the room, full swagger already in place.

  I grab his arm and tsk, holding him back. “Nope. The ladies are not here for you. You can hit on them all you want after they teach our ladies how to work their curves and bodies in a way that would entice a man and make for an excellent show.”

  Bo stares at each woman for a long time before nodding. The leader of the pack is tall, around five feet ten or eleven with long black hair down to the swell of her ass. She’s wearing a black satin corset and red satin high-cut panties with bows at the side. Her legs are encased in black fishnet stockings in a large diamond pattern. On her feet, red stilettos. The stilettos along with the bold red lips she’s rockin’ are my absolute kryptonite. Reminds me I gotta get my woman coating those luscious lips of hers in a bold lip color with matching heels. My girl would do it for me too, just to make me insane with lust. This woman, though not my girl, is no slouch. She’s a wet dream, standing hand on her hip, lips seeming soft as she purses them prettily.

  The two women flanking her are dressed in matching attire: black pushup bras, red lace panties, and black nylons attached to garter belts. Their heels are black patent leather and sexy as fuck. One is a blonde and one a redhead. They’re the trifecta of sultriness.

  “I get first dibs.” Bo breathes loudly, his nostrils flaring like a wild animal. I’d bet every dollar in my bank account he’s barely holding on to his control with all this sensuality floating through the room. It’s as if the moment the three women walked in they demanded all eyes on them. And every last woman is staring unabashedly at the three bombshells.

  “Brother, you get all the dibs. I’ve got Sky waiting for me back in the States.” I nudge his shoulder, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from the women at the front of the room.

  Bo’s eyes light up with unconcealed lust. “Sucks to be you. Well, kind of. Right now, it does. Don’t worry, I’ll make up for your losses. Fully.”

  I snort-laugh. “You do that.”

  “All night long,” he whispers, which is more like a promise he’s committing
to himself.

  I chuckle and move to the front of the room.

  “Ladies, welcome to Moving Your Body 101,” I announce to the models sitting primly in their chairs. “As you can see, I’ve got three gorgeous women here at the front of the class. These ladies are going to be your teachers today. They are leads from Italy’s hottest cabaret show. Meet Martina, Viola, and Francesca.”

  The three ladies wave and smile.

  “Martina, I’m going to sit back here with my partner and let you do your thing.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Ellis. All right, ladies, we’re going to start by sitting in our chairs and moving our bodies. What I want each of you to do is shimmy your chairs until you can see yourself in the mirror in front of you.”

  The ladies move their chairs according to Martina’s directions.

  “Now let’s start by crossing your legs and making the move look flirty.”

  The women all follow along with Martina and, as I suspected they would, start getting into it.

  Martina goes over to the sound system and starts up some music. The first song that blasts through the speakers is “Don’t Cha” by the Pussycat Dolls.

  “All right, my lovelies, now it’s time to get a little freaky!” She winks at the group and stands behind her chair.

  While the music plays, Martina does a subtle but ultrasexy routine using the chair. It’s mostly a combination of sitting, spreading her legs out, bending over the back, the side. At one point she puts her foot on the seat and arches her back, then swivels into straddling the chair the reverse direction. She instructs each woman to follow along and repeats the same twelve moves until they’ve all got it.

  “Holy shit,” Bo says as we walk around and watch our ladies do the routine, looking more and more confident and, most important, enjoying every minute. They like what they see in the mirror as they move, which is a powerful motive for a woman.