The One He's Been Looking For. Joanna Sims
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Ian held out a business card to her. She didn’t take it. Instead, she swung her leg over the motorcycle seat and sat down.
“I’m a photographer,” he added.
She pushed the motorcycle upright. “Congratulations.”
She couldn’t see his eyes, but she read the slight tightening around his sculpted mouth as displeasure with her response. No doubt he was used to getting his way with women all the time.
“I want to photograph you.”
Jordan gave a sharp laugh as she slipped the key into the ignition. “Uh...wow! That was a genuinely pathetic pickup line.”
“I’m not trying to pick you up. I’m a photographer.” Irritation had crept into his tone. He pointed to the old Lion Clothing building that had been converted to lofts. “My studio’s right up there.”
“Listen, mister, just because you helped me out with RoboCop doesn’t mean I owe you a massage with a happy ending. Got it?”
Before Ian could reply, the brass bell attached to the tattoo parlor door clanged loudly as Chappy shoved the door open. “This joker bothering you, Jordan?”
Most people had the good sense to be intimated by the burly biker. Ian, Jordan noticed, remained unimpressed, and didn’t take a step back from her.
“No.” She started her bike. “I was just leaving.” She revved her engine for a second before she shifted into gear. “A parting word of advice, GQ. Get some new material.”
Jordan slid the visor of her helmet into place and pulled out onto Sixth Street. Ian watched her as she disappeared up the road; no question about it, he wanted her for the book. From her striking cheekbones to her a lovely heart-shaped face and those shocking cat-shaped blue eyes, Jordan was perfect. The interesting angles of her features and her “in-your-face” attitude made her...fascinating. He knew instinctively that she was the one he’d been searching for. She had everything he wanted: energy, intensity, beauty.
“You got some sorta problem, Jack?” Chappy glared at him.
Ian slipped his business card back into his wallet. “None that are any of your business, Jack.”
As he headed back to his studio, his thoughts were fixated on the beautiful woman on the Ducati. And thanks to Wolf and the biker, he knew her first name and her last name. Now all he had to do was track her down.
Chapter Two
Jordan stepped out onto the narrow foyer of her condo and pulled the door shut. The early-September ocean breeze blowing in from the harbor brushed across her skin as she stepped out onto the curb. There was a chill in the air that made her glad that she had chosen her skinny jeans and ankle boots over her favorite microminiskirt. Jordan crossed Island Avenue and headed toward the trolley station. As she walked along First Avenue, a black Bentley parked in the lot directly across from her condo caught her attention. She watched as the chauffeur got out, hurried around the front of the vehicle and opened the door for the passenger to exit. It was an odd place for the Bentley to be parked. As Jordan walked directly in front of it, the passenger stepped out from behind the chauffeur. She recognized him instantly.
Ian Sterling!
Shocked, Jordan stumbled on a break in the sidewalk. She paused temporarily before she started to walk at a hurried pace toward the trolley. This wasn’t a coincidence. GQ was actually stalking her! Jordan quickened her steps as she reached in her pocket; her fingers wrapped around a small, pink, lipstick-size container of mace. He might be bigger than her, but she wasn’t about to go down easily or quietly.
“Jordan!”
She heard the leather soles of Ian’s shoes slap the cement as he pursued her. Jordan lengthened her stride, but wasn’t naive enough to believe that she could outwalk him.
“Jordan!”
Irritated and unnerved, she stopped in her tracks and spun around. “What?” she asked in a shaky voice. “What do you want? Why are you following me?” She pulled out her phone and prepared to hit speed dial for 911.
In three long strides, Ian was in front of her. “I’ve got business to discuss with you.”
Jordan shook her head in disbelief. “How did you find me? Do you have any idea how frickin’ nuts this is?” She continued to shake her head. “You know what? Forget it! I’m calling the cops right now unless you get lost pronto, buddy. And if I so much as see you anywhere near my house again, I’ll file a restraining order against you so fast your pretty-boy head will spin! Are we clear?”
Ian held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Jordan. I’m trying to hire you.”
“Did I ask you for a job?” she snapped. “No. I don’t think I did! But what I am asking is for you to leave me alone. Am I speaking in tongues? Why are we having a failure to communicate?”
Jordan spun around and began to walk with purposeful strides away from Ian. She glanced over her shoulder once and was grateful that he hadn’t moved from his spot.
“Jordan,” he called after her. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.” He paused, and then added, “Please.”
There was a raw sincerity in his tone that made her halt in her tracks; she slowly turned back to him. The sun was waning, but the man still had his sunglasses on. She could barely see his eyes behind the dark amber lenses.
“What do you want, GQ? Really. What do you really want from me?”
Ian took one small step forward. “Like I said the first time we met...I want to photograph you.”
“And why, might I ask, would the great Ian Sterling want to photograph me?”
Her question made him pause for a split second before he stated, “You know who I am.”
Jordan narrowed her eyes, angry that she had let it slip out inadvertently that she had looked him up on the internet. She was caught red-handed, so there was no sense denying it.
“I did a Google search. Ian Sterling...” She waved her hand in front of her body as if she was drawing a large rainbow. “Photographer to the stars. Yes. I know who you are, and the question still remains, why would someone like you want to photograph someone like me?”
Ian took another step toward her and answered her question seriously. “You have the face I’ve been looking for.”
Jordan kept her hand wrapped tightly around the small bottle of mace in her pocket while she thought about his words. She just couldn’t figure out his angle. He seemed sincere, but that didn’t mean that he was. She hadn’t spent much time researching him, but from what she had read, Ian was internationally known and highly respected.
He took another small step forward. “Listen...all I want to do is test you for my next book. I promise you—the offer’s legit.”
Before Jordan had a chance to reply, her phone rang. She slipped her hand off the mace and pulled the phone out of her pocket.
“Hey,” she said as she kept her eyes trained on Ian. “I’m just about to hop on the trolley. I’ll be there in a sec.”
She clicked off the phone and said, “Listen. I’ve gotta go.”
“What about my job offer?”
Jordan paused for a moment and then shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not a model, Mr. Sterling. You’ve got the wrong woman.”
“If you test well, I’ll pay you twenty-five thousand dollars for your time.”
Once again, Jordan stopped in her tracks. She slowly pirouetted until she was facing him again. “What did you say?”
This time, he stayed rooted in place. She could see that he was done chasing her for the moment. “You