Free Butterfly by Rochelle Alers Page B

that maybe you could also appear in the ad with him.”
    Twin emotions warred inside Seneca. Appearing in an ad with Phillip Kingston would thrust her into the media spotlight, but only because of the ballplayer. “You’ve told them about me?”
    Booth shook his head. “Not yet.”
    “What makes you think they’ll accept me?” she asked.
    “I’m certain they will once they see photos of you and Kingston together.”
    “What photos?”
    “The ones Mitchell Leon will take this coming weekend. Kingston has agreed to come back to New York for the shoot.”
    “You want me to do an ad with Phillip Kingston before I sign a contract with BGM?” She’d asked yet another question.
    A mysterious smile tilted the corners of Booth’s mouth. “Your contract is being drawn up as we speak. All I need is the name and fax number of your attorney and it will be on his desk before five o’clock today. I’ll attach a memo asking them to expedite it. And don’t worry, Seneca, I’ll pay the billable fees out my own pocket.”
    The uneasy feeling was back. Why, she wondered, was Booth Gordon in such a rush to sign her? Did he see something in her that made her that marketable? What was so different about her that he knew with a single glance that he could make her a supermodel?
    Seneca knew she was only one of millions of women with a unique face and body who were able to live uneventful lives away from the cameras and spotlights if they weren’t sucked into the world of modeling. When Luis had approached her with the possibility of modeling his designs, initially she’dturned him down. But, Luis was relentless. In the end she agreed to model a collection of evening gowns for a private client. And the rest, as they say, is history.
    “It’s not an ad,” Booth corrected, breaking into Seneca’s musings. “It’s a television spot.”
    Seneca was certain Booth could hear the runaway beating of her heart through her blouse. Her first television commercial would pair her with none other than Phillip Kingston. Unable to get out the words locked in her throat, she managed a barely perceptible nod. Within three days she’d gone from part-time student and part-time commercial model to one with infinite possibilities.
    “I’m glad you didn’t lie to me about meeting with Kingston,” Booth continued. He knew Seneca was stunned by his pronouncement that he wanted her to team up with Phillip for a television commercial. What he hadn’t disclosed was that the ten-second spot would preview during the Super Bowl.
    “There’s no need to lie to you, Booth. Phillip and I are consenting adults,” she said after she’d recovered her voice. His comeback was preempted when the waiter approached the table to take their lunch selections. Seneca studied the menu, then flashed a demure smile. “What do you recommend?”
    Resting a proprietary arm over the back of her chair, Booth leaned closer to Seneca, inhaling the subtle woodsy notes that made up her perfume. The fragrance matched her looks and personality: unabashed sensuality.
    “The corn crêpes with sautéed chicken livers and sherry are always good.”
    “How’s the endive salad with pears, walnuts and Roquefort cheese?” she asked.
    “It’s also quite good.”
    Seneca stared up at him through her lashes. If she’d been like her mother and sister, she probably would’ve found herselfentranced by Booth Gordon. Dahlia and Robyn liked older men, while she preferred them closer to her own age. That was why she hadn’t been receptive to Luis Navarro’s subtle advances.
    “What are you having?” she asked.
    “I’m leaning toward the chicken paillard with sage and squash gnocchi.”
    “Please order the salad for me.”
    Booth beckoned the waiter closer, giving him their selections. “I’d also like a bottle of Laurent Perrier Rosé and Perrier for the lady.”
    The waiter bowed slightly. “Thank you, Mr. Gordon.”
    Booth settled back to enjoy the youthful beauty of a