Forsaking All Others Read Free Page A

what does that matter,Allison Scott! You’re taking his photo, not his name. If he has the temperament of a weasel, it’s no affair of yours!
    Nevertheless, it was hard to sleep that night. She hadn’t been this exhilarated about her work since Jason had left.
    The following morning she called Mattie to request more glossies of girls, and the two agreed to meet for lunch. Over steaming bowls of chicken-and-dumpling soup at Peter’s Grill, Allison found herself hungry—actually hungry!—for the first time in weeks.
    When Mattie asked which male model she’d chosen, Allison produced the photo of Richard Lang and laid it on the table between them.
    “Him!” Mattie pointed a stubby finger. “I knew it! I knew he was the one you’d pick. All I had to hear was blond and blue, and I had him pegged in a second. He’s just the type you can do wonders with on film.”
    “I’m sure as hell going to try, Mattie,” Allison said thoughtfully. Then, studying the photo, struck again by his perfection, she asked, “What do you know about him?”
    “Not much. He doesn’t seem to give a fig leaf for what he wears. The times I’ve seen him he’s been in battered-up tennies, washed out blue jeans, and wrinkled shirts that look like no woman ever touched an iron to them. Kind of strange, since most of our clients tend to overdo it when they dress for a booking.”
    “Mmm . . . so I noticed. His shirt looks like it’s been through the Hundred Years War, and his hair . . . lord, Mattie, would you look at that hair! It’s . . . it’s . . .”
    “Natural,” Mattie finished.
    “Yeah.” Allison cocked her head and eyed the photo. “Natural, just like the rest of him. I wonder what the giant flaw is going to be when I get a look at him in person.”
    “Probably ego, like most of the pretty boys we handle.”
    The thought was depressing. “Probably,” Allison agreed, stuffing the picture away again. “You don’t have to teach me about ego in male models. Not after Jason Ederlie.”
    “I’m sorry I brought him up yes—”
    “No, Mattie, it’s okay.” Allison held up her palms. “If I can’t be adult enough to accept his being gone, I shouldn’t have invited him to move in in the first place without any commitments on either side. It was . . . it was an idyll, a dream. But it’s over, and I’m done licking my wounds. I’m going to throw myself into my work and make a name for myself, and when it’s made I’ll choose the man I want to live with, he won’t choose me.”
    “Well, when you do, honey, why don’t you make him a nice, stable plumber or grocer or accountant? Somebody who smiles at more than just himself in the mirror.”
    “Don’t worry, Mattie. I’ve learned my lesson. When I find him, he’ll be generous, humble, and honorable, and he’ll dote upon my every desire.”
    Mattie laughed. “Hey, wherever you find him, could you pick up two—one for me?”
    They laughed together, Mattie in her size sixteen slacks and Allison with her shattered illusions. But in the end Allison wondered if such men existed.

Chapter
TWO
    T HE old Genesis Building had two elevators, one for passengers and one for freight. Naturally the old relics were both out of order when Allison got there, so she was totally out of breath as she unlocked the studio door after climbing six flights of stairs.
    The phone was shrilling, and she tore across the room to grab it, puffing breathlessly as she answered, “Ph . . . Photo Images.”
    “Hello, this is Rick Lang. I was told to call this number, that you may possibly have a booking for me over there.”
    “Rick . . . L . . .” Suddenly the light dawned. “Oh! Richard Lang! The one in the photo from North Star’s files.”
    “Right, but I go by Rick.”
    Allison was caught off guard by the pleasant, unaffected voice on the other end. It was deep, masculine, and easy. If she was looking for shortcomings in the man, his voice wasn’t offering any