“Not fair. We have to leave, and I can’t do a shoot all hard and horny. I don’t have time for a cold shower. I’ll make you pay for this later.”

I giggle and move quickly away from him, grabbing my bag and heading for the door. Let’s just say the elevator ride down didn’t cure either of his problems.

The shoot is a beehive of activity, and I’m suddenly really nervous being here with Drew. Moving down the sand, I walk a few feet behind him. A guy with a clipboard has been by his side since we left the limo. The sun is bright, even with my sunglasses, and the sand is loose, so it’s really hard to walk on. I’m praying I don’t fall flat on my face. That would be a total fail and would probably embarrass both Drew and me.

I tug on the short shorts I’m wearing, feeling self-conscious as a few people start staring at me. I left my hair down and the wind is blowing the curls in my eyes. I dig in my bag for a headband to keep it out of my face.

When I look up, Drew is far ahead of me and clipboard boy trying to keep up with his long strides. The sight would probably have made me laugh if I wasn’t feeling so self-conscious right now. More people join the original gawkers as I pass by them. I feel like there’s a spotlight on me instead of the sun.

As if Drew can read my mind, he stops in mid-stride and pivots, ignoring Mr. Clipboard. He jogs back and puts his arm around me, making more people take notice.

“Sorry, Dora. I had to work out some problems with the shoot. I didn’t forget about you, honest. Don’t worry about our audience. They’re just wondering where I found such a hot woman.” He squeezes me close, and my confidence rises by at least ten percent.

“Drew, hurry. The lighting is perfect for a morning shot, and then I think we’ll break until sunset to get the rest. Alex is waiting for you in the red tent, so get a move on,” an older woman with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth belts out like she thinks he’s hard of hearing. Her hair looks like a bird’s nest, and pencils are stuck behind both ears. The best part is that she’s as short as I am, so I immediately feel a kinship with her.

“Sandra, this is Dora Phillips, and those things are going to kill you.” He points at her cigarette while shaking his head.

“Hi, nice to meet ya, Dora, and no, these won’t kill me. Angela will. I can’t believe Joe put her on this shoot. She’s a fuckin’ bitch, and I refuse to be nice to her. I’ll probably be handed a pink slip, but I’m fuck-nuts fed up with that prima donna attitude of hers. She thinks that just because she’s the hot thing right now, she can act like a complete twat.” Sandra stops her tirade, takes a drag and then turns to shout at a man nearby.

“Sorry, have to run. Red tent, Drew, and Dora, hope you enjoy yourself.” She doesn’t wait for a reply as she rushes toward the poor man she just yelled at. He looks petrified.

“Don’t let the cursing like a sailor and chain smoking fool you, she’s actually a really sweet woman,” Drew says. “She’s been married three times, has four children, and six grandchildren. She’s the director of this organized chaos, and she won’t get fired because everyone is scared of her. We better get to the tent before I get yelled at too.” He leads me to a row of huge tents, all different loud colors. “Yeah, the prop man loves color.” Again, it’s like he’s reading my mind.

Inside the tent, the air is cooler, and two chairs that look like they belong in a beauty salon are sitting in the middle. Surrounding the chairs are rolling carts full of drawers and bins. A multicolored-haired young woman popping her gum is standing by one of the chairs buffing her nails.

“Thank god you’re here. I thought Sandra was going to have a heart attack. I know CPR, but everyone would hate me if I brought her back to life. Now get your ass in the chair. I have to make your ugly butt beautiful.” Her New York accent is obvious, and I instantly like her feistiness.

“Alex, Sandra will outlive all of us, and I’m not late. I’m so sorry I’m ugly, but you’ll make me handsome like you always do, right?” Drew grins at her and then winks. She ignores him and points to the chair.

“Drew, where are your manners? Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Alex nods her head my way and smiles.

“Sorry. Dora, Alex. Alex, Dora.” He laughs as we both roll our eyes.

“Hi, I’m Alex, short for Alexandria. I make the monsters look pretty, which isn’t easy. It’s good to meet you. Why are you are hanging around with this one? There really are no words to explain him, but I guess you know that.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex. I’m Dora, short for Pandora, and I don’t know why I am either, except for the fact he feeds me.” We both laugh when Drew scoffs.

“Nice. I love the fact you’re both ganging up on me. You better hurry, Alex. Sandra will be by soon to check up on me.”

“Have a seat, Dora.” Alex points to the empty chair beside Drew. “I have to go to work, but we must chat later.” She grins wickedly as Drew groans while closing his eyes … but not before he winks at me.

It doesn’t take Alex long to make Drew “handsome,” and we move to the green tent, which is wardrobe. Rows of swimwear line one wall and then gauzy cover-ups line another. A willowy man is in charge and flips through the clothes like he’s disgusted at what he sees.

“Ah, Drew, so glad you could join us,” the man says. I look around, but there’s no one else in the tent. “Here are the changes for this morning. Turquoise pair first. Chop, chop. Time is flying as we speak.”

To my surprise, Drew undresses and pulls on the trunks, which fit him like they were custom fitted. Duh, of course they would totally fit, Dora. Can’t have too tight or baggy drawers on one of the world’s top models.

“And who is this little hottie?” I feel like I’m being undressed as the man scans me up and down.

“She’s with me, Bernard, and don’t get any ideas. She’s not in the biz.” Drew puts his arm around me as if to solidify his statement.

“She has a wild look about her—untamed hair and pure skin. Watch out, someone might snatch her up.” I decide I’m not a fan of this guy, and I sense the feeling is mutual with Drew.

“We’re out of here.” Drew waits as I go first and then follows me.

“God, I loathe that man, and if he comes within ten feet of you, scream, seriously.” Drew sounds serious and I wonder what Bernard has done to deserve his hatred.

We make our way down hand-in-hand toward the water, where the majority of people are hanging out.

“Here’s Drew, Sandra,” a voice calls, making the crowd turn their heads to watch us until we reach them. I feel like I’m under a microscope, and it’s not a good feeling.

“Great, Drew. Get your ass over here and let’s get started. Dora, have a seat beside me.” Sandra points to an empty chair. I let go of Drew’s hand and do as I’m told.

“Okay, ready. These are just Drew pics. I just got a call the bitch prima donna is running late so we’ll get started without her.”

The next few hours are full of excitement as I watch what at first appeared to be a chaotic mess completely transform into a well-oiled machine. Drew is a natural, and between shots he jokes with the crew. I can tell he likes all of them and the feeling seems to be mutual.

“Oh, shit. The twat-monster approaches,” Sandra mumbles.

I turn to see a face and body that I’ve seen many times. Angela Paige is beautiful, and she knows it. She wears self-confidence like a coat. Her attire is the scantest of bikinis. I wonder why she’s wearing anything at all. She’s tall, long-legged and blonde, which she swears in every article I’ve read is her real color. She’s looking straight ahead, and people move out of her way as she makes her way toward the shoot. I realize her gaze is fixed on one person, and it’s Drew. Drew is talking to one of the other male models, and he turns when he hears all the murmurs.

When Angela makes eye-contact with the object of her attention, she breaks into a breathtaking smile and seductively saunters up to him and—I can’t believe my eyes—she kisses him like they’re all alone on this beach. The crowd swells around them, and I can’t see Drew’s reaction. I’m overcome with jealousy. The green-eyed monster is definitely bubbling up inside me. There have always been rumors in the tabloids that they secretly had a thing for each other. Of course, each one has vehemently denied them, but my mom always says where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire. I feel like running away, but I sit in the seat with what I hope is a neutral look on my face.

Sandra jumps to her feet and yells for everyone to take their marks, and they all scramble to do her bidding. I spy Drew talking to the cameraman. Angela is having a young girl put color on her lips. How thoughtful of her to wait until she kissed Drew so he wouldn’t have to remove it from his lips.

The rest of the shoot is a blur. No longer is it exciting. I feel like I’m watching two people madly in love. My hands start to hurt, and I look down to see them pale white, clenching the sides of the chair. The umbrella that’s attached to my chair is no longer keeping me shaded, and I decide I’m going back to the hotel, even if I have to walk back alone.

“Take five,” Sandra yells, almost bursting my eardrums.

Drew walks away from Angela and makes his way to me with a worried expression on his face.

“Dora, are you okay? You’re getting a little sun,” he says, reaching up and angling the umbrella so I’m in the shade again.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Great, I sound so stiff and formal that he looks at me strangely.

“You don’t sound fine,” he replies, stroking my cheek.