Bad Reputations: A steamy, celebrity romance (The Breaking Through Series Book 1) Page 7

  She took a final look in the mirror. “I’m not convinced.”

  “Stand still.” He lifted the camera to his eye, and before she could protest, clicked the button. “Got you,” he said as she threw him a dark look.

  He put the camera down and scanned the racks for more clothes. “Take the dress home and get used to it. It won’t be too long before you find your new style. You won’t need me for fashion advice after a while.”

  “I can’t ever imagine feeling comfortable with all this.” Kirin picked up a pair of earrings and held them to her ears. “Colors and fabrics and what goes with what. It’s enough to make my brain explode. I’m much happier working out which flavor goes with which. You just tell me how I should look and I’ll be happy. Don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable doing this on my own.”

  “You will.” He stopped to look in her face. “When you’ve had some good feedback from the press and from your fans, you’ll feel more confident about choosing this sort of thing to wear in public.”

  She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I am kind of nervous about being seen in public like this. What if people see this sort of thing as confirmation that I’m a floozy? A lot of them still remember Joe and they might feel as though I’m cheating on his memory, changing the look.”

  “We’re doing your public a favor. We’re preserving the image of you and Joe before his infidelities—the good side of the ‘Cooking with Hart’ brand—for all time. Nothing will sully that memory now. Not another Trent Bray, not you wanting to move on and live your own life. All their memories of ‘Cooking with Hart’ will be locked in the past and they’ll be ready to concentrate on the new you. Kirin Hart~Solo will be a great new brand. I’ll talk with your marketing gurus about using it across the company. Have you and your independence as the focus from now on.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “You certainly sound convincing.”

  “As I said, I’m the best there is. Just trust me when I say this is going to be the fastest way to turn things around.”

  She shrugged and something kicked deep in his chest. She didn’t believe him, couldn’t trust him after what had happened with Joe and then Trent. But she had no choice. For the first time since they’d met, she looked lost and vulnerable—and vulnerable was the last thing she needed to be seen as right now.

  He cleared his throat. “Before we go along to the hair appointment, there’s something I want to say.”

  “Sure.”

  He paused for a moment. “Just because I’m telling you to change what you wear and how you do your hair, it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with what you have already. If you were anyone else, you could keep your look and there would be no problem. You understand that, right?”

  She nodded, but the look in her eyes told him she didn’t believe him, that she was going along with what he asked her to do because she was desperate. For an inexplicable second, he wanted to reach out, pull her into his arms and tell her to relax, that she could trust him to get this right, and the feeling knocked him sideways.

  Suddenly, the responsibility of what he was asking her to do hit home. This wasn’t an actress looking for a dress for an awards show, or an IT geek wanting an updated look for a business launch. This woman’s whole future depended on him.

  Who was the vulnerable one now? There was no place for this sort of reaction to her. He needed to see her as his ticket to success. Nothing more. He cleared his throat. “When we’ve sorted the clothes out, you’ll need to think about how you carry yourself. You have a tendency to slouch.”

  Her face dropped.

  Yes, this was better. He had a job to do, and Kirin Hart’s uncertainties and insecurities weren’t going to stop him. “We have so little time for all this.” Twelve days was all he had left to prove to the Dent and Douglas board that he could do this job and sweet-talking Kirin was obviously not working, so he owed it to her to bring in the big guns. He needed her on board with this makeover. Now.

  Balancing a box of accessories in one hand, Kirin leaned her shoulder into the door of Lucy’s studio and pushed out into the sunlight. Although Blake had kicked into cool, professional mode after she’d admitted her uncertainty with the way she looked, they’d eventually decided on some outfits for her to take home, and she felt a little better.

  “Looks like we finished too early for your driver,” Blake said as he walked towards her from a Tesla with the trunk open. “Wait in my car ’til he arrives if you like. I’ll get the last of the shoes and lock up for Lucy.”

  When she arrived at his car, Kirin laid the box on the floor of the trunk and moved to the passenger side. She opened the door and, peering in, was immediately surrounded by the essence of Blake. Breathing in the clean-breeze scent of him, her stomach looped as she realized this was as close to the private side of him as she’d ever been. And she wanted more.

  Leaning in to look over the passenger seat, she took in the charcoal overcoat laid across the back and the pair of running shoes beside it. Before she could see anything more, a voice from behind made her spin around.

  “Well, look who it is.”

  Blood stopped, frozen in her veins.

  Trent.

  He stood at the front of the car, arms crossed, his face cut with a superior smile and his wraparound sunglasses making him look like a teenage punk. Gripping the doorframe, she pressed her back into the side of the car, and her jaw tightened. “What do you want, Trent? You’re supposed to stay away from me.”

  He smirked. “Five hundred feet from your house, the agreement said. How can we talk when you’re holed up there?”

  Her throat dried. “You followed me here?”

  “My eyes and ears are everywhere, Kirin, but I have far better things to do than follow you.” He laughed. “Things like spend your generous settlement.” A thin shoulder lifted, then fell. “At least, it was generous, but it seems to have dwindled. I was thinking that you might like to buy back the little tape I made of us and then we can call things even.”

  She lifted her chin as her heart pounded in her chest. He was revolting with his leering smile and his rude confidence. “There was no tape of us and you know it.”

  He stepped closer. “Everyone I’ve played it to swear it’s you,” he said. “The paisley scarf, the rolls around your middle, the old-fashioned jacket. . . couldn’t belong to anyone else.”

  “Hey!”

  Kirin turned to see Blake drop a pile of shoe boxes and come striding over to the car. Trent took a step back and suddenly the look on his face changed from confident to cowardly.

  “Get the hell away from her,” Blake said as he drew close. “Before I call the police.”

  Trent raised both his hands in the air. “Hey, no need to get nasty, brother. Kirin and I were just having a private discussion.”

  Blake turned to her. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, her pulse slowing. He gave her a reassuring smile, pulled out his phone, and took a photo of the scene.

  In two more steps he was almost toe-to-toe with Trent, and the intruder leaned back. “First things, first, I’m not your brother. Nor could I imagine anyone wanting to be a sibling of someone with so few morals.”

  Trent opened his mouth, but Blake continued. “Second thing is, you lost the privilege of having private conversations with Kirin a long time ago. I could have you arrested on about a hundred charges right now, including harassment, breaking a contract, intimidation.” Blake’s voice was low and with each word, Trent seemed to shrink a little. “But I’m the guy who doesn’t like to waste police time with cowardly scumbags when I can deal with them myself.”

  He moved even closer, so that Trent had to step back. “I’m also the kind of guy who’ll turn real nasty if I see or hear of you or your threats again. I have a photograph of you harassing Kirin, and if I hear word of any sex tape, any threat, or any contact with her again, I’ll sue your ass. Are we clear?”

  Trent rolled his tongue around i
n his mouth and finally stepped back. “You don’t scare me.”

  Blake nodded. “Is that why your hands are shaking? They’ll be quivering a lot more than that if my lawyers have cause to get involved.”

  Trent shoved both hands in his jeans pockets. “It’s cool. No harm done.”

  “There will be harm done if you’re not off this parking lot in the next ten seconds.” And with that, Trent turned on his heels and hurried away.

  Kirin placed her hand on the middle of her chest and finally breathed deep. “Thank you so much. God knows what I’d have done if you weren’t here. How did you know it was him?”

  “I recognized him from newspaper reports.” He became more serious. “And you don’t have to worry about me not being here. I’m going to be with you day in, day out, until Trent’s just a nasty little memory. I get the feeling we won’t be hearing much more from him.”

  As her driver pulled into the parking lot and Blake moved to talk to him, Kirin steadied herself with relief. It seemed that not only was Blake reliable, but for the first time since they’d met, she really felt he believed the truth about what had happened with Trent. And that meant more to her than she’d imagined.

  5

  “Colin isn’t quite what you’d expect.” Blake leaned in and whispered as they entered the back door of a city salon under cover of darkness the next evening. His scent of soap and sunshine filled her lungs, and she held her breath a little longer.

  Like two spies, they’d met in the parking lot and were now making extra sure no one would see them arrive. Following the incident outside Lucy’s studio, Blake had wanted to pick her up tonight, but she was determined Trent wouldn’t influence their plans. Funnily enough, after the way Blake had dealt with him, she felt safer now than she had in a long time. Blake moved closer. His warmth jumped the space between them and heat spread up her neck. “He takes his work very seriously, but don’t let him intimidate you.”

  He placed his hand on the small of her back, and the protective, solid gesture caused her nerves to jangle. The thought of being paraded before yet another image expert was causing her stomach to tie itself in knots. And it was more than her stomach that was all trussed up. Her thoughts were too.

  It wasn’t that she hadn’t enjoyed looking at all the clothes and accessories Lucy had laid out for her yesterday, but she couldn’t stop this ever-increasing feeling that she was losing part of herself each time they did this. She’d been trying on one of the tops when her mom stopped by this afternoon. Candi had been enthusiastic about Blake and Lucy’s choices and had then detailed each wardrobe fail Kirin had ever had in her life. She knitted her fingers together in front. Having to be around Blake and his unwavering confidence in everything—especially what an image disaster she was—left her feeling out of control and floundering.

  She still wasn’t sure this was working. If it didn’t go well at the hair salon tonight, she’d reconsider the whole deal and maybe ditch this constant feeling of inadequacy. But for now, her business and her entire career needed her to give it another try. And personally, was she ready to walk away from the chance of spending more time with Blake? She’d couldn’t wait to talk to Ellie and Gwin in their weekly chatroom catchup about how she was feeling. They always helped.

  Aside from the fact Blake seemed to get more and more jaw-droppingly gorgeous each time she looked at him, there was something intensely secretive about him, and she wanted to find out what it was. He often called her out on her need to control a situation, but he was the king of control, and part of her wanted to see what he’d be like when the designer boot was on the other foot.

  What would he be like in the morning without his bespoke shirts and artfully mussed hair? Bare-chested and fresh from a shower, he’d smell like the ocean, his washboard abs with drops of water trailing . . . The image was so clear and so hotly distracting that as he stopped at reception, she almost ran into his back.

  She blinked as the stark, white interior reflected halogen lights and chrome. It was bright enough to almost need sunglasses. A receptionist sporting an enormous pink beehive with tiny little bows all over it led them to a private room with puffy white leather couches. She took drink orders, then left to summon Colin.

  “I don’t want much off.” Kirin fingered the ends of her hair. She’d sunk so far down into the luxuriously soft designer couch that she wasn’t quite sure how she was going to get out. Everything about this place screamed inaccessible, intimidating style, and it made her stomach churn. “And I’m quite happy with the color right now.” She twisted to get more comfortable.

  “That’s not a color.” Blake spoke without looking at her. He sat on a fluorescent green plastic chair, elbows on his knees and flicking through a magazine. “That’s a shade. And there’s nothing that blends into the background more than a shade. Billie Eilish doesn’t have a shade. Gwen Stefani doesn’t have a shade. And you’re not going to have one either. No more blending into the background.”

  “What sort of thing were you thinking then? I’m not going short or too brassy.”

  “A sleek, perfectly proportioned bob is what you need. Something that says you can’t screw with me but you can take me to your grandma’s and I’ll still look good. You’ll present as smart, sexy, and sophisticated all at the same time.”

  Kirin suppressed a grin at his assessment of the way her new look might work, but she shook her head. “I’ve always had long hair. I’m not going to change it now. Especially not for a bob. ”

  He sighed and tossed the magazine so it slid across the table in front of him. He fixed her with a hard-edged stare. “Okay, you can stop it now.”

  She tried to wriggle upright, but the movement made her sink lower. “Stop it?”

  He said nothing for a moment, but seemed to take a deeper breath. “Yes, stop it. The road-blocking, the heel-digging, the pain-in-the-ass, pig-headed attitude you have every time we look at something new. I told you there are certain things we’re going to do, and for each of them you’re going to have to trust me. We have a photo shoot in a couple days, events to attend, maybe even a talk show appearance, and I’m not going to have you appear in any of them if things aren’t right.” He flicked his hand in the air as if she were a particularly irritating insect.

  She chewed the inside of her cheek, surprised at his hard-edged tone but strangely satisfied she was getting under his skin. Perhaps there was a passionate heart beating inside that muscular chest, after all.

  “It’s clear from the way you immediately say no to all my suggestions that you don’t trust me at all.” He counted off on his fingers. “It’s day three and we have no outfits chosen, no shoes that you like, you can’t take instructions on how to stand, and you’re fighting me on hair color. We’re not making any progress.” He fell back against the chair, his eyes flashing emerald and the slightest red showing in his cheeks. The shiny coat of control was slipping, and it made him even more handsome.

  “I’m trying, Blake. I’ve come to each of the appointments you’ve asked me to, been picked up by anonymous drivers. I’ve scurried in through back doors like some sort of criminal. I’m being open to the options you’re presenting, but I can’t ignore my instincts. My own self-knowledge. My transformation has to be authentic to get my life back.”

  He clasped his hands together in front of him and the stare went from hard-edged to withering. And it was a serious turn on.

  His dark eyebrows dipped, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. “There won’t be any life back if there’s no buy-in from you, Kirin. I understand you’re used to being in control. I know you built this image for a reason, but as I said right from the very first day, if you want a quick turnaround, then you need to make changes that are proven to work. One of those is an up-to-date hair color.”

  “What I don’t get…” She sank further into the couch until her knees were almost at ear height. “Is why you’re so certain that this isn’t all going to backfire? How can you be so sure that people
are going to believe this new, sexily confident person is the real me?”

  “Because it is the real you.”

  “You think you’ve got people so figured out, don’t you?”

  He grinned. “Not people. Just you. You’re my sole focus right now, so yes, I think I’ve got your number.”

  Despite the fact that in so many ways his confidence in her was irritating, it sparked something deep inside. A need she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Should she go along with it? Tell a big fat lie that it was the real her just to experience his reaction, or should she stop it here and now?

  The thrill subsided. She had to work with this unbelievably attractive man for the next two weeks, avoid the sort of flattery that had caused this whole mess in the first place.

  He scrubbed a hand across his chin, and she almost squeaked it was so sexy. His green-eyed stare became more sincere. “I wouldn’t be pushing you on this spiced-up image if I didn’t think you could handle it, Kirin. I know you have the confidence to carry this off, but I also know that if you let yourself relax just a little, you could really have fun with this. You don’t have to believe it all, you just have to look like you do. Just relax.”

  “I am relaxed.” She crossed her legs the other way.

  “The hell you are. You worry all the time about yourself, rather than just going with your gut and letting things roll. Have a bit of fun with it all.” He blinked lazily. “Have a bit of fun with me.”

  Watching him there in his teal blue shirt and tanned skin, his perfect jaw line and achingly handsome smile, she wanted to make a deeper connection. “You know what it’s like? Having to worry all the time about how you’re presenting yourself to people? I’m guessing you haven’t wasted a second on it in your lifetime. I bet you’ve never had a pimple. Never had to wear a hat because it looked like things were nesting in your hair. Never had stomach cramps because you’ve spent the day sucking your belly in.”

  He raised an eyebrow, but she carried on. “I bet you’ve never once walked into a room and wanted to dissolve into the floorboards because you knew with stomach-churning certainty you’d worn the wrong thing.”