Sophie tugged me through an expansive living room into the back hallway that sported two additional bedrooms. “Sophie, this is incredible. Looks expensive.”

“Oh this?” She extended her hand and indicated the living room. “This is all Max. I’m just the girlfriend.”

Faith had been vague about the details when I had pressed for information about Sophie's man. Maybe if I was lucky, I could meet the mystery guy. “What does he do for a living, and where can I get one of him?”

My friend laughed. “Well, he's a model.”

My jaw dropped. “Of course he is.” Sophie lived one of those fabulous lifestyles you could only read about in Us Weekly.

Quickly, I donned the spare set of jeans and the T-shirt Sophie handed me. I immediately regretted the T-shirt, which had slashes through the sides and was almost completely backless. Sophie usually experimented with designs on her own clothes. “Um, thanks, maybe you have a sweater too?” I asked hopefully.

“Somewhere in the kitchen. I think I left my jumper that goes with those jeans. We'll go look.” She continued happily chatting about Max. “Yeah, the modeling jobs pay nicely because he works often, but in addition, he renovates houses and sells them. And he rents out the spare rooms in this place. It’s got five bedrooms and a pretty nice garden.”

I chewed my lip. That explained a lot.

Sophie shrugged and continued, “You know, he’s a bit of a hustler.”

“Oh, okay.” That was a little vague. But shit, he wasn’t my man, so I wouldn’t complain as long as Sophie was happy.

Although my overactive imagination kept picturing the beautiful living room tossed and destroyed because of a drug raid. In my mind’s eye I could just see the collaged photo, half as it was now and half as it would be after the raid with the mysterious Max sitting in the center of it all. Though somehow as I pictured Max, I interchanged him with the knight in shining armor who’d just saved my life.

Sophie shrugged. “You can call him a bit of an entrepreneur.”

Right. “Well, this place is amazing.”

“Thanks. We like it.”

We heard the front door open downstairs, and Sophie grinned. “That’ll be him now.”

I turned toward the heavy footsteps and stared.

“You must be Abbie. I'm Max.”

I did my best to drag my eyes away from the tall specimen of man that strolled up the stairs from the kitchen with a confident swagger. His dirty blond hair dusted his collar and drifted into his face in thick layers. Wow. I knew women who would kill for hair like that.