Unveiling The Bridesmaid - Jessica Gilmore

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slumping back again against the sun-hot railing. It was going to be bad enough facing him the next day in a working capacity, how on earth could she bring up the whole naked posing thing? Maybe she should run away instead. Somewhere no one would ever find her—she’d bet Alaska was nice and anonymous and a nice bracing contrast to this never-ending humidity.

      At that moment her phone rang. She didn’t recognise the number and answered it cautiously. After this morning’s ‘blurting out secret personal information to a stranger’ debacle she’d probably tell the telemarketer about the time she wet herself in playgroup or when she shoplifted a chocolate bar when she was five—and how her mother made her take it back with a note of apology. ‘Hope speaking.’

      ‘How’s the wedding planning coming along?’ A gravelly voice, like the darkest chocolate mixed with espresso.

      Hope glared at her laptop. How had Gael known she was thinking of contacting him? Maybe he had sold his soul to the devil and just thinking about him summoned him? ‘Great!’ Just a little lie.

      ‘That’s good. I was worried that two weeks’ notice might be too tight for any of the really good venues.’

      ‘How sweet of you to worry but actually I have it all under control.’ Another little lie. Any moment her nose was going to start growing.

      ‘Excellent. So you’ll be here nice and early tomorrow to start work?’

      ‘I can’t wait.’ Yes, she’d better hope that long noses were going to be fashionable this year because the way she was going hers was going to be longer than her outstretched arm.

      ‘All you need is your laptop and a lot of patience. I do hope you like cataloguing.’

      ‘I love it. I’d hate to get in your way though, while you’re painting. I could work from the office or from mine if that’s more convenient.’ Please let it be more convenient.

      ‘There’s nothing to get in the way of. I haven’t found a model yet.’ The mockery slipped from Gael’s voice, his frustration clear.

      ‘Oh.’

      It was a sign. A big neon sign. He still needed a model and she, like it or not, needed his help. Hope took a deep breath. ‘Look, Gael. I hate to deprive you of the joy of wedding planning and it looks like we’re going to be spending some time together anyway so...’ It was even harder to say the words than she’d anticipated.

      ‘So?’

      He knew, she could tell, but was no doubt taking some unholy satisfaction from making her spell it out.

      ‘So I can pose. For your picture. If you still want me after, well, if you still want me...’ She wasn’t going to own up to her virgin status again. She still couldn’t believe she had mentioned it at all, said it out loud. To a complete stranger. A state of affairs she had barely acknowledged over the last few years, pushing the thought away as soon as it occurred. Her own secret shame. Hope McKenzie, old before her time, withered, sexless.

      ‘An intriguing offer.’

      She tried not to grind her teeth. ‘Not really,’ she said as breezily as she could. ‘I didn’t exactly give you an answer, if you remember.’ No, she had backed away, muttered something about needing to get things sorted, said, ‘Thank you for the offer to take today to start planning and see you tomorrow, thank you very much...’ and scarpered as fast as her feet could carry her, out of the studio and back to the safety of her own apartment.

      ‘I thought your mad dash out of the studio was answer enough. Why the sudden change of heart?’

      Hope never admitted to needing anyone; she didn’t intend to start now. ‘You need someone to start straight away and spend the next two weeks at your beck and call. Well, whether I like it or not I am already at your beck and call. It makes sense.’

      ‘How very giving of you. So you’re offering because it’s convenient?’

      Her fingers curled into a fist. He’d asked her—why on earth was she the one working to convince him? ‘And although I am more than capable of sorting this wedding alone it would be foolish of me not to use all the resources available. I barely know the city but you live here, your input could save me a lot of wasted effort—and this is the only way you’ll help. I’m big enough to admit that if I want Faith to have the best wedding possible then I need to involve you.’

      ‘Another altruistic motive.’ Hope’s cheeks heated at the sardonic note in Gael’s voice. ‘And very laudable but you’ve seen the other portraits. Sacrificial victim isn’t the look I’m going for. It’s not enough for you to agree to pose. I need you to want it. Tell me, Hope. Do you want it?’ His voice had lowered to a decadent pitch, intimately dark. Hope swallowed.

      Did she want to pose for him? Lie on that chaise, his eyes on every exposed inch of skin?

      Hope stared out through the black iron railings. She knew the view by heart. The buildings opposite, the tops of the trees. This was where she hung out with a coffee and a book or her laptop, too scared to venture out of the comfort zone she’d carved for herself. She didn’t mean to speak but somehow the words came spilling out. Another sad confession. ‘I meant to shake things up when I moved here. New York was my chance to reinvent myself. I started, I bought new clothes and chopped off some of my hair and thought that would be enough. But I’m still the same. I don’t know how to talk to people any more, not when it doesn’t involve work or superficial stuff. I don’t...’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t know how to make friends, how to have fun. Maybe this will help me loosen up. It’ll be a talking point if nothing else.’

      ‘You want me to help you loosen up?’ Her pulse quickened at the velvet in his voice.

      ‘Yes. No! Not you exactly. What I mean is that I need to try something different, to be different. Posing for you will be new, unexpected.’

      ‘Okay. Let’s try this.’

      She hadn’t known how tightly she was wound waiting for his answer, how the world had fallen away until it was just the two of them, sharing an intimate space even though they were half a mile apart, until he agreed.

      ‘Great.’ She inhaled a shaky breath. ‘So what now? Do you want me to come over and...?’ Her voice trailed off. How was she going to do it if she couldn’t even say it?

      The laughter in his voice confirmed he was probably thinking the same thing. ‘Not today. I think we need to warm up a little first. You, Hope McKenzie, have just admitted you need me to help you discover new things.’

      That wasn’t what she had said. Was it? Certainly not in the way she thought he was implying. ‘And you think you can do that for me, do you?’

      ‘Maybe.’

      She didn’t have to see him to know that he was smiling. Anger rose, sharp, hot and a welcome antidote to the sudden intimacy—but she wasn’t entirely sure if she was more angry with Gael for his presumption or herself for laying herself open like that. ‘How very altruistic of you, and what’s in it for you? A better painting or the virtuous glow of helping poor, virginal Hope McKenzie? Sprinkle a little of your privileged, glamorous Upper East Side fairy dust on me and watch me transform? Well, Professor Higgins, this little flower girl doesn’t need your patronage, thank you very much.’

      ‘Are you sure about that?’ Before she could respond Gael continued smoothly. ‘In that case why don’t we get started on planning this whirlwind wedding? Any venues you want to see?’

      Hope glared at the laptop as if it were to blame for her lack of possibilities. There was no way she wanted to admit she didn’t have one idea as yet. ‘Yes. Meet me...meet me on top of the Empire State Building in an hour and a half.’ Did they do weddings? It almost didn’t matter. It was iconic and it was a start.

      ‘On top of the Empire State Building? How romantic. What a shame it isn’t Valentine’s Day. Am I Cary Grant or Tom Hanks in this scenario?’

      ‘Neither,

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