Shades of Deception

  Shades of Deception

  The Art Models Club – Book 3

  by

  Amanda Meadows

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2014 Amanda Meadows

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under reserved copyright, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by an means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover image © CURAphotography – Fotolia.com

  Published by Amanda Meadows Romance

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

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  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  The afternoon after Hunter Webb returned to Paris, Amber Holloway painted in a frenzy. Techno pop thumped in the background. Two of her paintings rested against the wall while she added finishing touches to the final one. Immersing herself in her art helped soothe the emotional ache of Hunter's departure.

  The physical ache, however, stayed with her. She anticipated many nights in bed solacing herself with her fingers while imagining Hunter pleasing her with his hard, lean body. Even now, she wanted to feel his lips on her own. She wanted to feel his body rocking against hers. After only a day, she needed him more than ever.

  What about a future with Hunter? Was that even possible? Or would Kayla and her family find a way to sabotage the relationship?

  Amber stuck her brush in a jar of turpentine and headed to the kitchen. For the first time, she realized how hungry she was. Without Hunter around, she often forgot to eat. As she left the room, she glanced at her image in the hanging mirrors and smiled. A blob of crimson paint dotted her left ear. Both cheeks were smudged yellow. Orange flecks splattered her jeans and tee shirt. Dried paint rimmed her nails.

  She washed her hands in the kitchen sink and popped a frozen dinner in the microwave. While she waited, she checked her e-mail, expecting a notice from the Financial Aid Office about the following term. Scrolling down, she stared at one particular subject line.

  She blinked twice to make sure she was reading correctly. Hello From Paris! But the e-mail, with an attached photo, was from Kayla. Delete it, she told herself. She's just trying to bait you. Biting her lip, Amber gave in to temptation and opened the file.

  Kayla and her mother posed in front of the Eiffel Tower. Amber studied the photograph carefully, forcing herself not to be taken in. Kayla had lied before. There was nothing here to make Amber believe that anything had changed in her status with Hunter. For all she knew, this was an old holiday picture. Amber forced herself to close the file and push her laptop away.

  She refused let Kayla's pathetic tricks get under her skin. Even if Kayla was in Paris, what was that to Amber? She had no evidence of the girl having any contact with Hunter. Kayla's family was grasping at straws to rattle her. It wouldn't work, Amber decided. Especially not after Hunter's incredible visit.

  The microwave dinged and Amber shook her head. She needed to concentrate on getting this portfolio finished for class. Professor Collins had arranged for her class to meet at his house on New Year's Eve. In return for food, drink, and good cheer, he had asked students to bring their portfolios for short presentations. Allowed to bring a guest, Amber was grateful that Caleb, for once, was between his girlfriend of the week. He was happy to accompany her.

  As Amber washed up her few dishes, her cell phone buzzed with a message.

  Hannah: Hey Girl! John and I are in town tonight. Need to crash at your place for a week or so. Join us at Pete's Club around 11pm?

  Amber stared at the message, furious. Hannah was clearly delusional. Or worse. She remembered her friend's glassy eyes and weird behavior Christmas Eve. Maybe Hannah was no longer merely experimenting with drugs.

  Amber composed the message that was bound to end the friendship, such as it was. Instead of sadness, she only felt a surge of relief.

  Amber: As I told you before, you can not stay here. Cheap hotel called Willow Inn off Route 30. Student friendly.

  She hit send and tossed the phone to the side. She wasn't going to spend one more moment thinking about Hannah or her boyfriend. Hopefully, Hannah would decide to party elsewhere or simply go to the hotel.

  Relieved by her decision, Amber returned to work and painted for a few more hours. When she went to the kitchen to grab another soda, she checked her phone and heaved a sigh of relief. Hannah might be furious, but at least she hadn't bothered to text back.

  A little after six o'clock, Amber cleaned herself up, tossed on some fresh jeans and a plain button down shirt, and headed out to the Range Rover. She had promised to pick Caleb up from his mom's house. In return, Mrs. Hanson had promised a home cooked dinner before they left.

  Caleb's mom lived in a small neighborhood with compact homes built in the 1950's. Her house, the same one that Caleb had grown up in, was extremely dated but meticulously tidy. The eat-in kitchen was painted a cheery yellow with red, checkered curtains and matching tablecloth. The chairs were metal and vinyl. Amber felt like she had been transported back in time.

  Mrs. Hanson was a great cook and an excellent storyteller. While the three ate huge plates of fried chicken, creamy mashed potatoes, freshly made biscuits with honey and butter, and sliced pickled beets, she spun outrageous tales of Caleb and Hunter growing up together.

  “So there I was, banging on the door for them to let me in. That precocious Hunter insisted that they couldn't unlock the door unless I guaranteed that I wouldn't punish them.”

  Caleb held up his hands, grinning.

  “Really, it was all Hunter's idea.”

  “They thought they had me, but they didn't know who they were dealing with.” Mrs. Hanson winked at Amber.

  Caleb chuckled, nearly choking on his soda.

  “When Hunter saw her crawling through the kitchen window, he nearly had a heart attack!”

  Mrs. Hanson grinned as she pushed her plate away.

  “I chased those boys halfway around the block.”

  Amber laughed and helped herself to another serving of pickled beets.

  “What happened?”

  Caleb grinned. “Hunter screamed like a little girl when mom grabbed us by our shirt collars."

  Mrs. Hanson reached over and ruffled Caleb's hair.

  “You were such adorable little monsters!”

  “Aw, mom!” Caleb protested, blushing. He stood up abruptly and began to clear the table.

  Amber remembered her manners and stood.

  “Let us get these for you before we leave.”

  “That's not necessary, dear.” Mrs. Hanson pushed away from the table and started to stand.

  Amber leaned over and grabbed her hands firmly.

  “Oh, but it is,” she said with a sly grin. “I want to hear more stories about the boys.”

  While Amber and Caleb washed, dried, and put away the dishes, Mrs. Hanson kept them entertained. Amber was still chuckling when she slid into the driver's seat of the Range Rover.

  “What? I don't get to drive back,” Cale
b teased, sliding into the passenger seat.

  He reached down suddenly. “Hey, your phone is down here.”

  He fished Hannah's phone from between his feet.

  “Oh, thanks!”

  Amber took a quick look, saw that she had a new text from Hannah, and dropped the phone into her purse. She wasn't going to let Hannah spoil her good mood.

  Later, after Caleb left for a date, Amber finally remembered her phone. She pulled it out and frowned at the message.

  Hannah: On our way. What is your address? Can't find a listing for Hunter Webb.

  Knowing Hunter kept an unlisted address, Amber typed in the hotel address instead. Hannah would be furious when she realized what Amber had done. But Amber was sick of this whole situation. Had she always allowed Hannah to push her around?

  Sighing, Amber changed her clothes and escaped to Hunter's room. She left her phone on the kitchen table. All she wanted to do right now was to lose herself in her painting.

  But once she got back to Hunter's room, her heart was no longer in the painting. She stretched out on his bed where his scent was still so fresh. She knew he was already asleep in Paris. But her own body burned as though she had a fever. She ached to see him again.

  Suddenly, Amber bolted upright as she remembered the modeling photographs she had secretly copied to a removable disk. She darted to her own bedroom and pawed through her underwear drawer until she located the disk in the back corner. Grinning like a maniac, she grabbed her laptop and rushed back to Hunter's room.

  From the comfort of Hunter's bed, Amber scrolled through nearly fifty modeling photographs in which Hunter was gloriously naked. The physical ache deepened. Now, she could feel the wetness between her legs.

  Stripping off her clothes, she stretched out on the sheets on her back. Using a single finger, she imagined Hunter tracing her jaw line. Then she rubbed her lips lightly until they tingled. She moved to her bare breasts, circling each mound slowly. All the while, she stared at Hunter's magnificent body on her laptop screen. She had set the images so that they automatically advanced in slideshow fashion.

  In some of the photographs, his eyes were closed and his erection jutted out from the screen. Amber was panting now, her desire growing by the second. She reached for a bottle of lotion and warmed a few drops in her hands. She slid her moist, slippery fingers over her nipples. But in her imagination it was Hunter's tongue and lips arousing her.

  Groaning, she squeezed her stimulated nipples. When she found her hips writhing of their own accord, she reached down and grazed her dripping core. She was losing control. Flipping over on her stomach, she inserted three fingers inside herself and pumped with her hips to simulate sex with Hunter. She pictured his beautifully engorged cock plunging inside her. Faster and harder, she rubbed herself until she felt the edge of an approaching orgasm. Desperate, she used her other hand to stroke and pinch her nipples. Finally, with a scream muffled in the pillows, she came hard, her hips jerking against the bed.

  Even then, she wanted Hunter. The ache in her groin was now replaced with the ache in her heart. She imagined lying on his warm chest after making love together. How in the world was she going to survive his absence?

  Chapter 2

  Amber painted most of the night and fell asleep, exhausted, in the wee hours of the morning. She didn't even hear Caleb come in. By the time she stumbled out to take a shower, he had already left for work. Having no plans other than painting, she had insisted he take the Range Rover for the day.

  Amber avoided her phone until after she had scrambled herself some eggs and microwaved several strips of bacon. Finally, she reviewed her messages. She smiled at two new texts from Hunter. One asked if she was eating properly. She took a selfie with the bacon and eggs and sent that out first. Another message said that he would try to call her that evening. She sent back a quick message.

  Amber: Can't wait!!!!!!

  Amber ate her breakfast and tidied up the kitchen. Finally, she reluctantly checked Hannah's messages. The first had been sent the previous evening. Hannah had also tried to call. Amber's phone log showed twelve calls. But when she checked her voice mail, there were no messages. Amber felt a hard knot in her stomach as she scrolled through Hannah's texts.

  Hannah: What the hell are you trying to pull?

  Hannah: Took a cab to this stupid hotel thinking it was your place and now we are stranded!

  Hannah: Come pick us up!

  Hannah: Sweetie, this isn't funny anymore.

  Hannah: I'm not kidding. We are really stranded here. John is a little low on cash.

  Hannah: Amber?

  Hannah: Amber?

  Hannah: We won't be mad. Just come and get us.

  Hannah: You are a shitty friend.

  Hannah: Amber?

  This message was around eleven o'clock the previous evening. However, the messages had picked up again around nine o'clock that morning. Amber glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was almost eleven now.

  Hannah: Look, sorry if I sounded a little harsh. But I am really in a bind and could use a friend to help me out. Okay?

  Hannah: We are still at the hotel. Pick us up and let's sit down and talk about what's going on with you.

  Hannah: Okay, we have enough money for a cab ride to your place. Just give me the address.

  Hannah: Amber?????

  Hannah: Amber, send the damn address!!

  Amber wanted to feel nothing but anger. She had to stay tough. Hannah had family she could depend on to help her. There was no need to allow Hunter, Caleb, and herself to be used.

  Instead, she felt conflicted. Hannah's family had always been there for her. But this wasn't just Hannah. Who the hell was this loser boyfriend? Amber had no inclination to even meet him, let alone cater to his needs. Finding her resolve, she typed in a reply.

  Amber: I do not have the car today. Would you like me to call your Dad to get you?

  She winced as she hit the send button, glad she wouldn't be able to hear Hannah's initial reaction.

  Hannah: Where is the car? Call your roommate. Tell him to pick us up and bring us to the apartment.

  Amber: Caleb is at work. Can not pick you up.

  Hannah: Give us Caleb's work address. Tell him we need to borrow car. Will return it by tomorrow morning.

  Amber stared at the screen, stunned. What the hell? So it was still all about the damn car? She stabbed in her response.

  Amber: Hell No!!

  Tossing the phone to the side, she stood up, sniffling. She was angry and hurt. What was going on with Hannah? That was it. She no longer considered the girl her friend.

  She stormed into Hunter's room and blasted the stereo. Gathering her best brushes, she grabbed a clean palette and squirted on smears of colors. Using her fingers, she mixed quickly, needing the solitude and solace that only her art could bring right now.

  Two hours later, Amber felt spent. However, her final painting was now complete. She appraised it with a critical eye, making a few minor adjustments. Finally, she forced herself to stop. She knew that tampering with the painting at this stage would only ruin it. She still had to prepare a small write-up for each work, but otherwise she was ready for the presentation. She sighed, happy with the results. For the first time that week, she felt excited about the upcoming New Year's Eve Party at Professor Collins' house.

  She walked into the kitchen, saw her phone, and grinned. She had nearly forgotten that Hunter was planning to call this afternoon. She calculated the time difference in her head. The gallery closed at nine o'clock this evening. So the earliest he could call would be three o'clock her time. Although he had a dinner break, the Lebas household was always too chaotic for a normal conversation. During the last attempt, Amber had gotten an earful of French from both four-year-old twins as they chased Hunter around the house.

  Amber checked the clock. Two thirty. She still had at least half an hour. Most afternoons, she would have been at work. Even when she was available, Hunter usually was not.
The Lebas family frequently entertained local artists and it was part of Hunter's job to make sure that everyone was attended to. Unfortunately, the art world was not a nine-to-five job.

  About ten minutes later, she heard a buzz alerting her to a text message.

  Hunter: Hey, Baby! Looking forward to our call. Can't wait to hear what you had for lunch.

  Damn! She hadn't eaten since breakfast. Amber ran to the fridge and jerked it open. No leftovers. She opened the freezer. One lonely frozen dinner stuck in the back corner. That would have to do. She threw it in the microwave and slammed the door. While her food cooked, she sent a message.

  Amber: Counting down the minutes.

  Hunter: I bet you didn't eat lunch.

  Amber: Why would you say that?

  Hunter: I know you.

  Amber: I had a late breakfast and now am having a late lunch.

  Hunter: I knew it!

  Amber: Don't you want to hear about my paintings?

  Hunter: Later. Stop sending messages and eat.

  Amber sighed and put the phone down. She knew he wouldn't send a single message until he thought she was finished eating. What a control freak!

  Ten minutes later, she halfheartedly chewed a rubbery Salisbury steak. She had cooked the dinner a little too long. The peas were shriveled up and the mashed potatoes dry and unappealing. She swallowed what she could before dumping the rest in the garbage. She grabbed an apple to munch on.

  Glancing at the clock, she saw she still had ten minutes before the gallery closed. She grabbed a magazine, wishing for once that they had a television set. She could use a mindless diversion.

  Her phone buzzed again and she snatched it up.

  Hunter: Is the fridge stocked?

  Ugh! What was it with his obsession with food? She was tempted to lie. But she knew that he would simply ask Caleb to verify.

  Amber: Shopping right after my shift tomorrow.

  Hunter: No food in the house? Very disappointed.

  Amber: There is food. Nobody is going to starve.