Unknown call

"Hey, Rory." I gave him my best smile as he let me through. I stayed focused and sharp during my work. The painting was a stunner, one of Mallerton's early works, entitled simply Lady Percival. An absolutely compelling woman with nearly black hair, a blue dress to match her eyes, a book in her hand and the most magnificent figure a female could ever hope to have took up most of the canvas. She wasn't so much a beauty as expressive, I very much wished I knew her story. The painting had suffered some heat damage during a fire in the sixties and never been touched since. Lady Percival needed a dose of tender loving care, and I would be the lucky one to give it to her.

I was just about to go for a break when my phone went off. Unknown caller? It struck me odd. I didn't give my number out, and the Lorenzo Agency who represented my modeling had strict disclosure rules.

"Hello?"

"Brynne Bennett." The sexy cadence of a British voice washed over me.

It was him. Ethan Blackstone. How, I have no earthly idea. Or why for that matter, but it was him, sexy accent live and well on the other end of my phone. I would know that commanding voice anywhere.

"How did you get this number?"

 "You gave it to me last night." His voice burned into my ear and I knew he was lying.

"No," I said slowly, trying to put the brakes on my escalating heartbeat, "I did not give you my number last night." Why was he even calling?

"I may have borrowed your phone by accident while you were dozing... and called my mobile with it. You distracted me by being dehydrated and starved." I heard muffled voices in the background, like he could be in an office. "It's very easy to pick up the wrong mobile phone when they all look alike."

"So you went into my phone and dialed yours so you could get my number off the history of calls received. That's kinda creepy. Mr. Blackstone." I was starting to get rather pissed at Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome with the Gorgeous Blue Eyes for his utter lack of personal boundaries.

"Please call me Ethan, Brynne. I want you to call me Ethan."

 "And I want you to respect my privacy, Ethan." I retorted a bit rudely.

"Do you, Brynne? I think you're really grateful for the ride home last night." He said in a softer voice, "And you seemed to like your dinner too." He paused for a moment. “You thanked me." More silence. "In your condition you would've never made it home safely."

Seriously? His words returned me straight back to the overwhelming emotion I'd felt last night when he'd brought me the water and the Advil. And as much as I hated to admit it, he was right.

"Okay... look, Ethan, I owe you for the ride last night. It was a good call on your part and I do thank you for the help, but-.........."

"Then have dinner with me. A proper dinner, preferably not something enclosed in plastic or foil, and definitely not in my car." He cut me off in mid sentence.

"Oh, no. Sorry, but I don't think that's a good ide.....—"

 "You just said, 'Ethan, I owe you for the ride, and that's what I want-for you to have dinner with me. Tonight." He again cut me off and my heart pounded harder. I can't do this. He affected me so strangely. I knew myself well enough to realize that Ethan Blackstone was dangerous territory for a girl like me-Great White Shark is hungry for lone swimmer in cove territory.

"I have plans tonight." I blurted into my phone. A total lie. "Then tomorrow night."

"I-I can't then. I'll be working late afternoon and photo shoots always exhaust me "

"Perfect. I'll pick you up from your shoot, feed you, and take you home for an early night."

"You keep interrupting me every time I speak! I can't think straight when you start barking orders, Ethan. Are you like this with everyone, or am I just special?" I did not like how the conversation turned so fast in his favor. It was maddening. And whatever he meant in the way of an early night left me imagining all kinds of forbidden.

"Yes and yes, Brynne, you are." I could feel the sex dripping off his voice through my phone, and it scared the shit out of me. And I am a stupid idiot for wording the question like that. Way to go, Brynne, Ethan says you're special.

"I have to get back to work now." My voice sounded thready. I knew it did. He just disarmed me so damn easily. I tried again. "Thanks for the offer, Ethan, but I can't....."

"Say no to me." he interrupted, cutting me off again in mid sentence. 

"and that's why I'll pick you up from the shoot tomorrow for dinner. You admitted that you owe me a favor, and I am calling it in. It's what I want, Brynne."

Fucker did it again! I sighed into the phone loudly and let that sit in silence for a moment. I was not going to give in to him so easily.

"Still there, Brynne?"

"So you want me to talk now? You sure change your mind quickly. Every time I speak you interrupt me. Didn't your mother teach you any manners, Ethan?", i asked losing my patience.

"She couldn't. My mother died when I was four."

Fuck. "Ahhh, well that explains it then. I'm very sorry look, Ethan, I really have to get back to my work. You take care." I took the chicken way out and ended the call.

I set my cheek on the worktable and just rested for a minute, or five. Ethan honestly wore me out. I don't know how he managed it, but he did. Eventually I got up from my chair and headed for the break room. I got the biggest mug I could find, filled it with a shitload of half-and-half sugar, and a moderate amount of coffee. Maybe a caffeine and carb buzz would help me, or put me into a coma.

Looking over at my workspace I saw the captivating Lady Percival prepped and waiting for me, elegant and calm as she had been for more than a century. Coffee in hand, I returned to her and attended to cleaning the grime from the book she so lovingly held to her breast.