Mandy Makes Her Mark Read Online Free Page A

other.
    She took a breath and prepared to do the right thing, no matter how much she would prefer not to.
    â€œDo you…want to talk about it?”
    He laughed shortly. “Seriously?”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œOnly that if I were in the market for relationship advice—which, don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely not—I would probably look for someone who’s actually in one.”
    â€œI—I can’t believe you,” Mandy sputtered, drawing back as if slapped. Here she’d been ready to lend a sympathetic ear to Tad Eckholm, of all people, a man who’d been nothing but sneering and caustic to her since the day they met. She’d only taken him on because she needed another male model on her roster. And now, when she was trying to be nice, he’d insulted her. “What is wrong with you, Tad?”
    He turned to look at her for the first time, one perfect eyebrow arched. He looked mildly interested, an expression Mandy was pretty sure she’d never seen on his face before. In fact, she’d come to think of his trademark look, the one that had landed him more shoots than any of the other men she employed, as “bored contempt.” To potential accounts she used words like provocative and intense and soulful , but the truth was that she’d sometimes wondered if a series of electrodes would detect any brain activity at all.
    â€œWhat is wrong with me, Amanda? Is that the question?”
    â€œWell—yes.”
    The silver-haired bartender chose just that moment to finish with his other customers down the bar and came up to her. “Good evening, Miss. What may I get for you?”
    â€œI’ll have a—a—whiskey. A double.” Mandy had never had a whiskey in her life—she was more of a pinot grigio kind of gal, with an occasional daiquiri in the summer—but this moment called for something strong.
    â€œOf course. What sort of whiskey were you thinking?”
    â€œScotch.” It was the only kind she could think of.
    â€œSingle malt or blended?”
    â€œThe first,” Mandy said impatiently. Seriously, was it this complicated to order a damn drink?
    â€œAnd do you prefer something peaty…smoky…or something smooth?”
    Definitely not smooth. Mandy was in the mood for a drink as rough as her temper. “Peaty and smoky. And if you can set it on fire, so much the better.”
    The bartender laughed politely. “And another Dr. Pepper, sir?”
    Tad nodded morosely, fixing Mandy with his unblinking gaze while the bartender moved away to get the drinks. She tried to look away, but the undeniable fact was that Tad was impossible to ignore. Part of it was his sheer physical perfection, sure—sculpted features, jaw like steel, a physique straight off the Sistine Chapel ceiling, eyes the color of a sapphire—but Tad had an air about him that was nothing short of compelling.
    Liam, her assistant, called it his fuck-off-I’m-flawless look, the one that scored Tad steady work in catalogs and print ads for products like sports cars and luxury watches. But Liam had also pointed out that Tad’s flawlessness was also his limitation, because he was rarely chosen for editorial work or the best runway shows. “They’re looking for character,” Liam had said, “like Luna’s nose.”
    Luna’s nose was the one feature which Mandy had always felt grateful not to have inherited from their mother. Luna’s nose was straight and narrow, but it was long, long enough that in profile you couldn’t help but notice how it jutted from her face and overshadowed her high cheekbones and lovely full lips.
    At least, that’s what Mandy had thought, as she took over booking for their fledgling agency. So she’d had to cover her surprise when she took calls from clients anxious to hire “the one with the nose.” That was before Luna became