Page 3 of Luca (Big Hot Alphas 3)

“Who’s that woman?” I ask Taylor.

Taylor replies without pulling her eyes away from my hair. “Which one?”

“The one wearing all black.”

“Ah,” she says. “That’s Quinn. Our art director.”

“She single?”

Taylor laughs. “Why? You interested?”

“You could say that.”

“I’m not close with her. But I’m pretty sure she is. I’ve never heard her talk about a boyfriend or husband or anything.”

The photographer’s voice booms again. “All right! Let’s get rolling!”

Taylor quickly adjusts another few pieces of my hair, then steps off the stool, evaluates her work, and nods.

“Good luck,” she says.

I head back onto the set, which has been completely transformed. Now, instead of the mock bedroom, there’s a whole setup with a rain machine and black plastic tarps covering the floor.

I’m told where to stand. Told we’re going to take some shots without any rain first before they turn the machine on. I nod and the photographer lifts the camera to his face and we start shooting again.

Once again, as the shutter starts going off, countless eyes focus on me. And once again, I seek out Quinn in the crowd. She’s standing over by the monitor again, talking to another woman, nodding, looking so goddamn beautiful that I have to fight the urge to walk off this set and go over to her.

I’ve always known there’s just one woman out there for me. I don’t know why. It’s just the way it is.

And right now, as I look at Quinn, I know something else for certain.

She’s the one.

Chapter Two

Quinn

“Don’t let them start the rain machine yet,” I say to Dani. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait—where are you going, Quinn?”

“Just grabbing something. It’ll take two seconds.”

Before Dani can say anything more, I rush away, leaving Dani to temporarily oversee the shoot. It’s not like she can’t handle it. Dani is one of the best producers I’ve worked with, which is especially impressive considering she’s only in her mid-twenties. When I was that age, I was nowhere near as far along in my career.

A few other members of the crew give me questioning looks as I rush past them, but nobody asks me where I’m going as I cross the studio and disappear into a back room. A handful of seconds later, I emerge with my umbrella in hand. I brought it with me this morning because it sure as hell looked like it was going to rain. It didn’t, but now I think I’m going to get some use out of the umbrella after all—or at least the model will.

Back on set, the photographer is just finishing up the first round of shots. As soon as he lowers the camera from his face, I step onto the set.

“We ready for the rain?” the photographer calls out.

“Hold on,” I say. “I want to give the model a prop.”

And that’s when I finally lay my eyes on the model for the first time. I mean, yeah. I’ve been looking at him through the monitor since the beginning of the shoot. But this is the first time I’m laying my eyes directly on him. It’s the first time I’mreallyseeing him.

Holy shit, the dude is hot.

Whenever I tell people I’m an art director for a men’s loungewear brand, they invariably make some kind of quip about how lucky I am. In truth, though, I’ve been doing this for so long that getting to spend so much time around half-naked male models doesn’t really have an effect on me anymore.

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