Hunks of the Month

Chapter 1

“OH, JUST kill me now,” Sterling Vaughn told himself as the blazing-red minivan pulled into his driveway. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. He sighed as he set his mug of coffee on the counter and flipped on the studio lights. His camera, backdrops, and settings were ready, and after a half knock, half demanding pound on the door, it opened and what could only be Mrs. Wilson stepped inside, followed by two younger carbon copies of herself. The twins—at least that was how Mrs. Wilson referred to them, as though they had no identity outside of each other. Sterling couldn’t help wondering how much that was going to cost the girls in therapist bills once they left home. “Good afternoon.”

“Yes, it is. I’m Gladys Wilson, and these are my twins, Mandy and Tawny.” She half pushed the girls forward and went right on, even when Sterling extended his hand.

“It’s good to meet you.” Sterling had no idea what else to say. Mrs. Wilson hadn’t bothered to indicate which girl was which, and they didn’t say a word. Probably out of self-preservation. “Which of you is first?” He went into business mode, trying to get his head where it belonged.

Mrs. Wilson drew herself up. “I thought you could take them together.” She wrinkled her nose in an unflattering manner, like she had smelled something bad. “As I said on the phone, we want just one appointment for the two girls.”

Sterling didn’t roll his eyes and cleared his throat and his mind. He needed to be sharp with this cobra of a mother. “And as I explained, that isn’t how I work. If you want senior portraits for the two girls, then they need two appointments, which is what I made, with the pricing I quoted you over the phone.” He had already explained this to her at least twice. “Now which of you would like to go first?” He wasn’t arguing, and this wasn’t a bargaining session.

“I still don’t think—”

“It’s either that or I’ll cancel the session, you’ll forfeit your deposit, and I’ll call someone on my waiting list to take their place.” Sterling crossed his arms and stood firm, staring her down. He only had so many appointment slots available, and there were people who could fill in the later appointment, at least. Sterling knew this type of stage mother. She wanted the best, always, but didn’t want to pay for it—like everyone’s talent and time were at her beck and call.

Mrs. Wilson sighed deeply as though it was worth a try.

Sterling knew when he’d won. “Who’s first?”

The girl on the left stepped forward without saying a word. Sterling was starting to wonder if either of them actually spoke at all or if they had simply given up trying to get a word in on their mother. “Where do we wait?” Mrs. Wilson asked, looking around the small reception area where Sterling kept a single upholstered chair. It was as uncomfortable as it looked. He hated when people hung around while he was working. It made him feel like they were looking over his shoulders, which were already crowded enough with the history he carried.

Sterling smiled with professional warmth. “There’s a coffee shop two places over. They have great muffins and drinks. You’re welcome to wait here, though. I can get another chair.” He made no move to retrieve it.

“No need. Tawny, you wait here for your appointment, and I’ll get something to drink.”

“Then, Mandy, let’s go get started. There’s a changing and restroom right there. Take your time and put on your first outfit. Most people start with more formal dress and go from there. Once you’re done, exit by the second door right into the studio and we’ll get started.”

Sterling left the reception area and entered the studio by a separate door.

He had set up a number of scenes throughout the space and had a large number of backdrops. He made some adjustments based on Mandy’s coloring, and when she stepped out in a royal blue cocktail-length dress, he smiled and got to work, reminding himself that this was his life now, even if it wasn’t the one he had envisioned for himself. He knew it could be worse: he could be photographing squirming young children who screamed and never looked at the camera.

“BUT I WAS thinking of having some pictures taken in my lacrosse uniform,” Tawny said when they were about halfway through her session. It had taken each of the girls a little time to warm up, but Sterling did his best to put them at ease with him and the camera, and they came to life through his lens. Sterling knew that was his talent—making models comfortable with the camera so he got the best shots and they looked as good as possible.

“That’s a little expected.” He always liked to do something different. “How about we take some pictures of you with the lacrosse stick, using it as a prop, but in these clothes?” Where Mandy had been happy with two outfits, Tawny seemed to want to change every five minutes. “They take team pictures and things in the uniforms, don’t they?”

She nodded. “I’ll get the stick. It’s with my stuff.” Tawny seemed happy, and thankfully the remainder of the session went smoothly, and he ran Mrs. Wilson’s payment and got her and the girls on their way with a surprising minimum of additional fuss.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Sterling sighed, and his shoulders slumped. What the hell was he doing? He wandered into the studio he had developed in what had once been his parents’ home in Carlisle, Pennsylvania.

His father had been in the process of moving into a senior living community just as Sterling’s life had taken a turn south and then shattered into little pieces. Sterling had been trying to put them back together for a while now, but the picture they presented wasn’t anything like what he had envisioned for himself. Sterling hated that his mind had decided to go down these paths again and again. His old life was over, and he was making one here, back where he grew up. Still, it wasn’t the same. He needed something different, something to take his mind off his troubles and maybe give him a second chance. But opportunities like that didn’t just walk in the door.

The vibration of his phone on the wood of the desktop pulled his attention. He checked the caller and stifled a cringe. That was the third time today someone from that number had called him without leaving a message. Sterling was sure it was a telemarketer and was about to let it go to voicemail once more, but he pressed the green button to take the call, if for no reason other than to try to stop them.

“I HAVE COFFEE, tea, or some soda,” Lucille Hillyard said the following afternoon as Sterling sat at her kitchen table along with another woman he had yet to be introduced to, wondering why she had wanted to speak to him so urgently. When the old friend of his mother’s had called the previous afternoon, she had been evasive, but when one of the grandes dames of Carlisle telephoned, you apparently didn’t argue. Lucille also had a bit of a reputation as a steamroller, which she had apparently earned, judging by how quickly she’d gotten him over. Sterling’s head still spun over that, but he had a couple hours before his next appointment, so he’d figured he’d drink some tea, hear what she wanted, then politely decline and go back to his work.

“Tea will be fine, thank you.” He offered to help and received a momentary withering look.

“I may be old, young man, but I’m not helpless. I’ve served tea to university presidents and even one actual president, but that was before Georgie got elected to that particular office.” Apparently Lucille had worked as an administrator at a number of universities and had crossed paths with a certain president while he was still a student. “I can do this in my sleep, so sit down and relax. I’m not a shark and I don’t bite. When I was younger, I might have nibbled a little, but sadly even those days are over.” She brought two mugs and set them down exactly in the center of the placemats before sitting herself. “I have some questions and I’m an old lady, so I don’t have the time to beat around the bush.” She seemed to remember her manners. “Do you know Judy Weidmeyer?” Lucille asked and completed the introduction before getting up. “She and I have been in the garden club for, what…?”

Judy smiled a little nervously. “About fifteen years, I guess.” She leaned forward. “Lucille and I agreed to be president and vice president in order to try to save the club. It’s on its last legs, and both of us would hate to see it die.” She accepted the glass of water Lucille handed her.

Sterling lifted the mug and took a sip of Earl Grey. He swallowed and wondered for the hundredth time what she could want. “Shoot.”

“Do you like taking high school pictures?” She raised her eyebrows. “All those mothers and their precious sons and daughters, every one of them thinking they know how to do your job because they have a camera on their phone.” She cracked a smile. “Believe me, I know. I’m one of those people. I always know better than everyone else, and if I’m wrong, I don’t admit it.” He got another wink. If she were younger, he would have thought she was flirting with him. Hell, maybe she was. There was no age limit on that sort of thing.

Sterling chuckled. “I bet you do.” He took another sip as Judy sat quietly. It seemed Lucille was going to be driving the conversation.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Lucille pressed. “Is that something you like doing?”

Sterling set down the mug. “I’m good at it, and my clients are happy with the pictures I produce for them.” He wondered what she was getting at.

She leaned slightly forward. “That’s not an answer.” Man, she had a steely gaze worthy of either a seasoned poker player or a serial killer. Sterling wasn’t sure yet which one. “I know you were a fashion photographer up until last year, and then you returned to town and opened the studio in the family home. That had to be a real comedown from the travel and excitement of the fashion world. Now you take graduation and baby pictures for people in town.” Lucille sighed softly. “It seems like a lot of change and a real step down the ladder.”

Judy stiffened, and her gaze shifted to Lucille and then back to Sterling.

Sterling pushed his mug away and stood. “If you asked me here to insult me, I….” He checked his watch and did his best to hold his temper. “Things didn’t work out, and I have a different life now than I did then. But this is the one I’m building, and it’s mine to control and live.” He hadn’t realized he was that sensitive to his change in station until that moment. Sterling felt himself color, but he wasn’t going to back down. “I don’t appreciate you or anyone else casting aspersions on it.” It was his job now, and Sterling was still trying to make peace with it. Sure, he had trepidation and a certain amount of dissatisfaction, but he was good at what he did, and the business allowed him a decent living.

“That wasn’t my intention. Please sit.” She waited, and he slowly lowered himself back into the chair. Once he did, she patted his hand gently. “Please forgive me. Sometimes I can be too brusque for my own good, always have been. It just seems to me….” She paused and rolled her eyes. For a second she looked much younger. “I should shut up now.” Lucille now seemed like a naughty teenager.

Sterling breathed with relief that that line of questioning was over. “What is it you wanted?”

She shared a look with Judy before turning back to him. “In my own bumbling way, I was asking about your situation to feel you out and see if you might want something different.” She cleared her throat, then stood up and left the room. As Sterling sipped more of his tea and wondered what Lucille was up to, he heard drawers open and close in the next room and then a door. He was about to ask if he could help when she returned and placed a calendar on the table. “I want to do one of these.”

Sterling paged through a few images and lifted his gaze, sliding the calendar back toward Lucille. “You’re kidding, right?” The calendar was of ladies of Lucille’s age, all doing various activities, seemingly naked, but with the delicate parts covered. They could be a bit shocking, but then that was the purpose, he supposed. “Why?” Of all the questions he could ask, that seemed to be the one that threw her.

“No, I’m serious. The Garden Club of Carlisle and Cumberland County celebrated its ninetieth birthday last year, but now it may be breathing its last. The membership is aging rapidly, and due to some unforeseen circumstances….” Anger flashed in her eyes, and Sterling wondered what had happened but didn’t dare ask. “The treasury is nearly empty. I was hoping that something like this would allow us to make some money and could generate interest to build membership.” The anger dissipated, and along with it some of her enthusiasm.

Judy set down her glass, leaning forward. “Someone decided that their retirement needed a little offsetting, so when they moved to Florida, they took the kitty with them.” It was the first time Sterling saw fire in her eyes. He liked that. It would help them no matter what they decided to do.

“I’m serious too. This has been done before.” He lifted the calendar and turned it over. “Here in town, as a matter of fact. This naked little old lady calendar was produced two years ago by the Civic Society. How many did they sell? And do you really think doing it again is going to raise the money and interest that you’re looking for?” He cocked his eyebrows, and she shrugged. Sterling knew he had a point. “It needs to be fresh. People use their computers now, so calendars are less important unless the images really catch the eye.”

“I have to do something or I’ll be the last president of the club and an institution here in town will die out. We do a lot of good, or have in the past: scholarships, greening the community, planting trees, the flower baskets downtown, gardens in the parks, as well as education.” She was obviously passionate about the club, but Sterling wasn’t sure what he could do about it. He had a black thumb. The only reason his backyard wasn’t brown and dead was because he had a service that maintained it so he could use it as backdrop for photographs.

“Okay. Then we need to come up with something different and unique, something eye-catching and interest-grabbing. Doing the same thing over again isn’t going to get you what you want.” He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but that was the truth. “I suspect they sold a decent number of calendars.” He looked it over. The calendar was good quality, the pictures satisfactory, though there were flaws in the image composition and the photos seemed more passive and lacked movement. But it was clever and kind of cute. “There are tons of calendars out there, everything from cats and dogs to cartoons to origami. What we have to do is make one that will catch people’s attention.”

Lucille took the calendar and set it on the telephone table behind her. “We’re a garden club—we could do flowers,” Lucille offered. “But I bet there are plenty of those too.” She sighed and drank the last of her tea. “I suppose I’m going to need to look somewhere else. One of our members, Bette Wood, is in that calendar, and she said that they did really well with it. I thought we could try, but I think you’re right. We need something fresh, and this isn’t it.” She seemed to have deflated considerably, and Sterling hated that he had been part of that, but letting her go forward with a project that wouldn’t have much chance of doing what she hoped would only delay the disappointment and could run the risk of taking away some of the club’s limited resources rather than making them money.

“Think. What sort of thing would attract attention and make folks take notice? There has to be something.” Images flashed through Sterling’s mind, but they were of hot men cavorting on beaches in Saint-Tropez, not ladies in a garden club meeting. Okay, so maybe he needed to figure a way to get out and take some of the pressure off. Being around hyped-up teenagers all day was really starting to get to him.

She shrugged. “I guess this was my big idea and I kind of shot the wad on it.” Lucille got up and took the now-empty tea mugs to the sink. “I want to thank you for coming to see me, and I really appreciate your time. Maybe I’m just the old fool my nephew seems to think I am.” Clearly there were some interesting family dynamics going on behind the scenes.

“I wouldn’t say that. The idea is sound. We just have to come up with….” His voice died away when the back door thunked closed behind him.

“Aunt Lucy,” a rich voice rumbled, and Sterling couldn’t help turning toward it. That sound resonated deep inside him, and Sterling felt his toes curl in his shoes. That was a wonderful voice. Heavy boots thumped on the tile floor, and as Sterling’s eyes widened, a god of a man came around the corner, skin glistening with sweat… and there was a lot of that skin on display. Even Judy seemed to fumble with her glass, not that Sterling could blame her.

Holy cow, what the hell had just happened? Sterling blinked a few times just to make sure he hadn’t somehow stepped into the pages of a Highlander novel. Hair the color of spun gold flowed to wide, bare shoulders. Sterling swallowed hard, his eyes sliding down a chiseled chest and narrow waist. But it was the kilt that caught his attention most of all. The man looked amazing in it, and few people looked decent in olive green. Of course, a million questions raced through his head; most of them he didn’t dare ask. Who gardened in a kilt? Did he wear them all the time? Most naughtily, what did he wear under it? That question held quite a bit of fascination as his gaze traveled down the beefy legs that protruded from below. Damn, that was an upward trail he’d love to be able to follow.

“Sterling, this is my great-nephew Connor Hillyard, my brother’s grandson.” She smiled, and Sterling held out his hand. Connor shook it firmly, and when they let go, Sterling had to stifle a whine, because damn it all, this was the most attractive man he had ever seen. Sterling had spent five years around some of the world’s most beautiful people: men, women, it didn’t matter. Beauty had been a never-ending parade in front of his lens. But in all that time, he had never seen someone who exuded masculinity and even grace the way Connor did.

“It’s good to meet you,” Sterling managed to say, his throat bone-dry.

“You too.” Connor turned to his great-aunt.

“Sterling is the photographer I was telling you about. The one I was going to ask about the garden club project.” Her earlier enthusiasm seemed to have dissipated, and Sterling was disappointed that he had been the wet blanket, but he’d told her the truth about how he felt.

Connor glanced at him and nodded, then returned his attention to his great-aunt, which gave Sterling a chance to appreciate his wide back and cannonball shoulders. This was someone active and full of life. As gorgeous as he was, Connor wasn’t one of those guys who got his body in a gym. His was the result of hard work, which made him all the more attractive and got Sterling wondering what the kilted god did for a living. “I finished weeding the beds around the side and that section of the backyard.” He pointed. “The roses are tied up and should stay on their trellis for now.” Sterling noticed that a few red lines crisscrossed one pec, and damned if he didn’t want to take Connor into the bathroom and play doctor for a while. He cleared his throat and pushed away those particular thoughts. “I also cut some flowers for you to put on the table.” He held out a bouquet, and it was like a light went on in Sterling’s head.

“That’s it!” Sterling exclaimed as he jumped to his feet.

“What?” Lucille and Connor said in unison, looking at him like he’d just sprouted a second head.

Sterling grinned, an idea racing through his mind at a million miles an hour. “This…. You….” Sterling couldn’t take his gaze off Connor. “Think about it. This is your calendar. Who in their right mind would turn down him… giving you flowers?” He grabbed the calendar. “If you really want to do one of these, then let’s do it with guys like Connor here—sexy, hot, tender—all with flowers in hand. It fits the garden club, it’s something that will make people stand up and take notice, and we can use local men.” And frankly, the idea was as hot as Connor standing right in front of him. “Connor here could be Mr. April.” He waited to see how the others would react.

Connor set the flowers on the table, speechless at Sterling’s obviously fantastic idea. Lucille blinked at him a few times and crossed her hands on the placemat. “You know, you may be onto something.”

“I’m going to get a vase,” Connor said and half stomped out of the room.

“You can’t be serious about this,” Judy gasped, spilling her water across the glass table, soaking the area in front of her. Lucille quickly took away the sopped floral placemat, then wiped up the table and refilled Judy’s glass.

“Well, what Sterling suggested, no. But he’s right—we have to think bold.” She sat back down. “Late last year, I was in the mall, and they had one of those calendar stores with everything from cars to cartoons. There were shirtless guy and skimpy bikini calendars.” She shrugged. “I think we need to be bigger. I like the idea of shirtless guys bringing flowers, because hey, I’m old, but I’m not dead. But we need to shock folks. Make them take notice, like you said.”

“But Lucille…,” Judy breathed. “It’s the garden club. We do flowers, not beefcake.”

“Piffle. We need to bring interest, and we need money. We have scholarships to fund and commitments to the town.” She turned away from Judy.

“What were you thinking?” Sterling was almost scared to ask.

Lucille must have spent her entire life perfecting the innocent look she flashed them. It was priceless, even as Sterling saw the mischief in her eyes. “Well, if one guy giving you flowers is good, then two are better.” She grinned. “Connor is gay, and so is Sterling here.” She showed her brightest smile. “So why not have a gay old time with it?” She sat back.

Sterling was shocked into near brain death, and Judy seemed scandalized.

“If a garden club in Central Pennsylvania wants to make a splash and be noticed, let’s go hog-wild. Let’s put images of two shirtless guys on each month. Can you imagine it?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

No one said a word until the crash of breaking glass shattered the silence.