Cognac & Couture, The Passport Series, Book Two

Kathleen Ehlers, Present

This is so ridiculous! Who thought up this brilliant plan?

"Darling, could you just lean a little further back, lift your left foot just a touch, and make sure your toes are softly pointed?" sang out the celebrated celebrity photographer, Jeremy Sutton, in a sycophantic voice before bellowing to the hairstylist, "For Christ's sake, brush her hair off her forehead and keep it off. I want her hair over her right shoulder, not her left."

I distracted myself from the primping and prodding by trying to calculate how much it had cost Forbes magazine to have me sit on a teak lounge chair on the beach alongside the translucent blue water of the Bali Sea. The trip to get all of us just to Finn's Beach, on the southern tip of the island, must have cost a small fortune. I had already given up trying to keep count of the number of people necessary to juggle light reflectors, hold down wind barriers, and grapple with styling weapons while they dodged the small waves that rushed the beach. Granted, they were working in paradise, but it was all so ludicrous, I had to work hard to suppress my amusement.

As requested, a makeup artist blotted my skin and then quickly applied another layer of powder to my forehead, adding to my feeling of being entombed. At least the sun couldn't make it through all the makeup, so I didn't worry about sunburn.

"She's sweating! Someone get a bloody umbrella over here and shade her," Jeremy demanded as he prowled around, looking at me through various lenses. Lowering the camera from in front of his face, he looked at me and turned on the charm. "Darling, you are simply beautiful. For you, there is no bad angle."

Though I smiled at his compliment, the word Really? ricocheted through my head. Who believes this shit?

Cries of alarm registered just before a wave swept the photographer to his knees. He heroically held his cameras over his head, saving his equipment. In the commotion, two wind barriers rolled down the long sandy beach. I burst into laughter as several people chased after them before they crashed into innocent bystanders.

I was no expert, but as far as I could tell, this photo shoot was officially a disaster! Temporarily abandoned while people sorted the situation out, I waved to one of the staff. "Could you drag this into the shade for me please?"

Taking in the general chaos, the darkly tanned employee smirked as he grabbed my chair out of the surf and pulled it into the shade. "Would you care for a drink?"

Once protected by the thatched, green palm fronds that roofed the palapa, I smiled. "A tall glass of pineapple juice would be wonderful."

For once, it wasn't my turn to clean up this disaster of epic proportions, so I settled back and watched the scene unfold with morbid fascination.

The soggy photographer made his way over after directing his employees to pack up their equipment. "Truly sorry, love, but it's a bust. The wind is too strong. We'll need to find another location. My assistant thinks he has one a few miles up the road."

"How long until we leave?"

"Twenty minutes or so." With that, he left to confer with his crew.

I hopped across the hot sand to my bag and found my cell phone. "Denise, it's me. Any news?"

My secretary at L'Oréal uttered the words I'd hoped for. "He's retiring. I heard the news straight from Monsieur Huse's secretary."

My heart raced. I was within spitting distance of my goal. "I love you," I sang happily to her. "I'll see you soon." Hot damn!

06n