Chapter 3
"That sandwich was for the Noah Foster?"
"The Noah Foster?" I try to stifle a laugh as I stare at Sadie's face. "You sound exactly like him."
"He's a recluse." She leans back in her chair. "No one ever sees him anymore."
The image of the scar that covers his cheek flashes back into my mind. "Anymore?"
"He just disappeared from the public…" her voice trails as she studies the pile of linen napkins she's folding. "He used to be in all the papers dating this celebrity or that one. He dated a lot of models too. Then he kind of just went underground or something. You know how those artsy types are. What did you two talk about?"
I playfully scowl at her. "Once I read that he was selling nudie pics of women for thousands of dollars I high tailed it out of there."
"You make it sound so disgusting." She pulls her head back in a laugh. "He's a very famous photographer. His pictures are in demand. They're breathtaking."
"How do you even know that?"
"Everyone knows who Noah Foster is." She tilts her head to the side so quickly, her long brown hair flits across her face. "My mom has one of his images in her library."
"That gorgeous abstract picture of a woman's back?" I ask. I've long admired the beauty in that photograph but whatever interest I had in it was fleeting. I just remember being surprised that Sadie's conservative mother would have a picture of a woman's naked back and side boob on full display.
"That's the one." She nods as her gaze travels past my head to where her husband, Hunter, is standing at the front door to their restaurant.
"Was he good to you when I was away?" I ask it teasingly although the question itself is rooted in concern. Hunter and Sadie's relationship hasn’t been easy on her and now that she's married to him, I can't help but be worried about the best friend I've had since grade school. She's always been so focused on becoming a doctor, and now with a husband and stepson I worry that her own dreams will get lost within what the family needs.
"He's amazing." Her eyes catch mine. "What about you?"
I know where she's going with this and I'm not about to travel down that road with her. I'd confided in her about my brief romance while I was in Paris. The man I'd gotten involved with was bad news from the start and Sadie has warned me that I'd get burned. I wasn't in the mood for a lecture on yet another of the idiotic man choices I'd made over the years. "Noah has a scar."
She physically shudders at my statement. I want a diversion but this is a touchy subject for her and it's not fair of me to throw it at her when she's not ready. I should have warmed her up a bit.
"Like my scar." Her hand leaps to her chest and her fingers fan across it. The large scar that is the ever-present reminder of her heart transplant has always caused her emotional pain. I know that. We've been almost inseparable since we were kids. Tossing Noah's scar into the middle of our conversation is something I instantly regret.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "It's not like yours. His is on his face."
"His face?"
I nod. "He was all weird about it. He actually pointed it out to me."
"You didn't notice it?" She pushes the napkins aside and runs her hand over the tablecloth. "It can't be that noticeable then."
"I was staring at his cock so I didn't notice the scar." As soon as the words leave my mouth I realize they sound way too casual.
"What?" The question is more of a masked giggle than an actual query. The way she pulls her hand to her mouth to quiet the chuckling brings a massive smile to my face. Sadie's adorable and she's even more so when she's having fun.
I run my hands across my brow and push my hair back over my shoulders before I dive into the subject at hand. "He was naked when I got there."
"Noah Foster was naked?" The words bubble out from behind her fingers, veiling the overt giddiness in them.
I bite my bottom lip to curtail my own amusement. "He thought I was a hooker."
"A hooker?" There's no tempering her tone now. The question flies out of her with full throttle.
"Sadie." I reach across the table to grab her hand. "Don’t scream it."
She leans forward before speaking. "I can't help it. You just said you saw Noah Foster naked and he thought you were a prostitute."
I nod. "One showed up while I was there."
She shakes her head from side-to-side as if she's trying to clear out a wedge of something that's lodged in her ears. "Did you just say a prostitute was there too?"
"Briefly." I whip my hand through the air as if I'm swatting away a fly, or in this case, the memory of Noah's almost companion for the night. "She left right after he paid her."
"Did you watch them having sex?"
I almost have to close my mouth manually after that question. I can literally feel my jaw drop open. "Sadie," I say as I swallow the lump in my throat. "What? Why would you ask that?"
"Alexa," she whispers in a very high tone. "You said you saw him naked and he paid a prostitute while you were there." The way her eyebrows are dancing around is unsettling. It's as though she thinks she's got a clear view of what went on in Noah's apartment. I was there and I'm still not clear on what happened.
"He didn't sleep with the hooker." I'm hoping the relief I feel when I say that isn't transparent within my tone. Why do I care who he sleeps with? I had a brief, very enticing, encounter with the seemingly famous Noah Foster. It's over now.
"So nothing happened?" she asks, disappointment edging the question.
"He said he's been looking for someone like me for his next project." It's all I've thought about since I raced home from his place and made myself come in the shower. I can't stop thinking about him. I want to be his next project. At this point in time I'm game for just about anything as long as it doesn't involve a threesome with me and one of his call girl friends. I want that man all to myself.
Sadie freezes before she opens her mouth to speak. "Noah Foster wants you to be his next project? Do you know what that means?"
I don't. I can't think about it because if I do, I'm going to ride that elevator back to his penthouse and agree to whatever he wants. "What does it mean?" I ask, already knowing full well the answer.
"He wants to photograph you, Alexa." Her tone is way too excited. "Noah Foster wants you."