Page 59 of Craig

“Catchy name,” he murmured.

“I think so. I’ve been in the modeling world for a very long time, and it struck me that it’s all false. Models get airbrushed and made to look impossibly beautiful.”

“Except you.” This time he allowed himself the indulgence and brushed his fingers over her cheek.

“You don’t even need makeup.”

Pleasure bloomed at his compliment, her eyes sparkling.

“Some of us don’t. But I do believe that true beauty comes from within, and every woman has the ability to portray that beauty. It doesn’t matter the ethnicity or the size, or using paints to cover up flaws. If I have a mole here or a scar there, it should be part and parcel of the package.”

He stared at her curiously. “You want women to be shown just as they are?”

“It’s women. I’ve seen a lot of insecurities in my profession, and a lot of damn pressure.”

He brushed away the thick coil of hair. “That’s the reason you wanted out.”

“That, and the fact that it was getting to me, and I was getting too old for the damn game.”

“You look like you just turned sixteen.” He grinned at her dirty look.

“I hated myself when I was sixteen.”

“Why?”

“Because-” She stopped when she realized she had been about to dive into the forbidden. “Nothing.”

His hand cupped her face, his expression intense. “Tell me.”

She started to refuse, but something about his sincerity, the way he held her, had her opening up.

“He left around that time. My dad.”

She lowered her eyes as she felt the tears stinging. “He just left.”

She started moving away, but he wouldn’t let her. Letting go of her face, he slid his hand over her arm and drew her closer.

“I blamed myself.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “It’s just, I don’t know.”

“You were a child and had nothing to do with why he left.” Craig felt the impotent rage at the man who had been so callous with her feelings, and hoped to God he would one day have a chance to confront him.

“That’s what I keep telling myself. Anyway, I went through a period of depression that seemed to last forever. Dylan helped me through it. Even though he was going through his own hell, he helped me through mine. His mother is a piece of work.”

“It must have been horrible for both of you.” He could not tell her that he had heard all of it from her brother.

“My mother loved him,” she murmured. “Even when he left without a word and didn’t stay in touch, she still loved him.”

“Did you resent her for it?”

“I did.” She gave him a surprised look for his intuitiveness.

“I tried not to, because she was such a damn good mother. But I found myself wondering how she could still be in love with a man who used her and left her, with not only the child they made together, but one that did not belong to her.”

“Did you still love him?” he asked her softly.