Finding The One (Meadowview Heroes 1; The Meadowview Series 5) by Rochelle French

right? So why had she gone to the gallery?
    His mind churned. Wait. He’d had the contract written under his legal name, MacGregor Johansson. His father’s legal name was the same, but publically he and his dad went by different names in order to avoid confusion.
    Trudy must have been under the impression his dad wanted to hire a model. No wonder she’d been at the event honoring his father—she was trying to meet the man she hoped would be her new boss. It all made sense.
    He grinned. How excited she’d be when she learned the contract was with him. At least, he hoped she’d be excited. She had to be, though. The contract was big—he’d set it up to be a continual three-year gig, with the idea that he’d work with one model on various art projects, starting with Warrior Woman and moving on to others when inspiration struck.
    And inspiration was striking, and hard.
    He’d been ambivalent about getting back into art photography, uncertain if he wanted to open up his artistic vein, but no longer. Not now that he’d met his muse.
    If Trudy wanted the contract to be Gregor Johansson’s model, that’s exactly what he’d give her. That, and so many fantastic orgasms she’d think she was living in a sea of glitter, unicorn or otherwise.
    All he had to do was find her and talk her into a double do-over. And he would do anything to make that happen.

T rudy awoke to the loud and incessant braying of a donkey outside her bedroom window. She groaned. Griswold. The obnoxiously loud, albeit ultimately charming local alarm clock. Buying a loft made out of a former brewery on the outskirts of Sacramento meant living in a mix of suburban and rural. Adjacent to her building was a farm animal rescue sanctuary. Griswold was its overly-loud mascot.
    Wrapping her soft down comforter around her shoulders, she hunkered lower in her bed, warding off the chill in the air, and willed her bleary mind to come out of its dream state. At least Griswold had waited to wake the neighborhood until the sun broke through the heavy tulle fog covering the valley. She loved her loft, with the exposed metal beams and worn oak floors. Even with Griswold as her next-door neighbor, her loft was totally charming.
    And she was one payment away from losing it.
    She had to locate Gregor Johansson and convince him to hire her, since she’d failed so miserably to introduce herself to him the night before. Oh, god. She sat up as memories of the night before flooded her mind.
    “No…” she groaned, her mind focused on her humiliation even as her body jolted with aroused tingles, obviously focused on the fact she’d had sex.
    Although as much as her body seemed to be recounting the events of the night before favorably, that was far from the truth, right?
    A one-night-stand should be a much more auspicious event. Girl meets hot sexy guy, guy asks for sex in his conveniently located hotel room, girl and guy get it on and have multiple orgasms until the wee hours of the morning. Isn’t that how it always worked in the movies?
    Instead, last night had ended on an “oop” and her sneaking out of Mac’s room.
    She flopped heavily back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to forget about last night. About the grape, her dress, and most importantly, she wanted to forget about the complete flub up with Mac. But that was all she could think about.
    Mac. Gorgeous Mac. Sexy, sensuous, heavenly Mac. Mac of the white teeth, the twelve-pack abs, the warm lips. Mac of the azure blue eyes. Mac of the giving mouth and the—
    The doorbell chimed, stopping her mind from going where she decidedly did not want it to go. No more thinking of Mac. That ship had sailed.
    No, she corrected herself as she padded barefoot down the stairwell—that ship hadn’t sailed. The darned thing had sunk deeper than the Titanic.
    She grabbed a sweatshirt from the rack by the door and tugged it on before peering through the peephole to see her sister, who held Trudy’s sleeping