Fandom:
Iron Man (movieverse)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tony/Pepper
Summary: Tony takes advantage of serendipity.
Disclaimer: Most of the characters and situations in this story belong
to Marvel Comics, Fairview Entertainment, Dark Blades Films, and other
entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. No infringement
is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. All others
belong to me, particularly Cedric, and if you want to borrow them, you
have to ask me first.
Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any.
Cincoflex
is the best of betas and the best of friends. And special
thanks to cluesby4
for her expertise--and her willingness to share it!
*********
The mission had gone smoothly, for once. Tony let Jarvis
handle
the driving, tired and bruised but not really hurt, and used the return
trip for thinking. Nick Fury had been pestering him again
lately,
showing up uninvited in Tony’s New York penthouse during his
last
lightning trip to the East Coast, but Tony had turned him down
cold. He found Fury’s idea of a strike group
intriguing,
though he had no intention of admitting it to the man’s face;
but
at the moment he had enough on his plate.
Maybe when
I’m done cleaning up Stane’s mess.
It was easier to think of Obadiah by his last name, to relegate him
coldly to the status of an enemy. Eventually, Tony knew, he
was
going to have to come to some kind of terms with the memory of his
mentor-turned-killer, but he was still too angry.
He’s
dead, Tony reminded himself as Jarvis flew the suit over
horizon-spanning expanses of cloud. Dead and gone.
By Pepper’s hand, at that, and if he still turned up in
nightmares from time to time, Tony supposed it was natural.
“Your blood pressure is high,” Jarvis commented
coolly in
Tony’s ear. “Is something troubling
you?”
Tony took a deep breath and let it out slowly, consciously
relaxing. “Memories, Jarvis, that’s
all.”
He turned his head to take in the endless sea of sunlit cloud,
mountain-tall peaks of brilliant white set off by the deep blue of the
pure sky overhead. “Nice view.”
“Aethereal,” Jarvis agreed.
“Ms. Potts has
asked me to remind you that you do have a meeting with the SI legal
team prior to your appearance before the Defense Appropriations
Committee.”
“Nggh.” Briefly Tony considered
pretending to be more
injured than he was, just to get out of both, but gave it up.
For
one thing, Jarvis had undoubtedly already tattled to Pepper; for
another, she’d just reschedule the whole thing anyway, and
was
probably ready to do so just in case he had been seriously
hurt.
Sometimes her efficiency was a pain in the ass.
“Where is Pepper
right now?” Normally she just called him when she
wanted to harass him about something.
“She is currently on the set of Oprah.
The taping began ten minutes ago.”
“No kidding? Can you hack it?”
Tony
wasn’t surprised that the talk show host had requested
Pepper’s appearance; his personal assistant had been on
Oprah’s show once before during a segment on career women,
though
the only reason Tony remembered it was because of the irrational
annoyance that had seized him when his lover of the moment had made a
disparaging comment about Pepper’s interview.
His HUD flickered, and then began displaying the show in
question. Oprah was laughing, presumably in response to
something
Pepper had just said; Pepper herself sat opposite, poised and relaxed,
her business suit neat and trim and her heels delicate and
high.
She looked, Tony concluded, entirely edible.
“So, tell me what we’re all wondering,”
Oprah
continued, smiling. “How did this come
about? Tony
Stark’s playboy reputation doesn’t leave much room
for
serious relationships.”
Pepper shrugged one shoulder, managing to look unconcerned.
“It was entirely his idea,” she said, her lips
pursing in a
small smile. “I was definitely
surprised.”
The audience laughed. Oprah leaned a little closer.
“Was it romantic? Or more like a business
proposition?”
“Definitely the latter,” Pepper replied promptly,
which
brought more laughter, and a wince from Tony despite the fact that it
was exactly what had happened.
“But--” Her
mouth softened. “Tony can be very romantic when he
puts his
mind to it.”
The audience cooed. Tony grinned in the confines of the
helmet,
pleased. Between the flowers in her office, the chocolate and
fruit he kept sending to her apartment, and the public kisses, he
seemed to be succeeding.
“As you know, Pepper here was on our show a while back to
discuss
women in the workplace,” Oprah said to her viewers.
“Pepper, how has your engagement affected your working
relationship with Tony?”
Pepper’s long fingers tapped on her knee.
“It
hasn’t really. Mr. Stark and I have been working
together
for quite a few years now, and our patterns are fairly
established.” She smiled again.
“I still have
to drag him out of his workshop on a regular basis, and he still makes
me go to budget meetings as his proxy.”
This won more laughter from the audience. Oprah
smiled.
“And do you plan to keep working after the
wedding?”
“Certainly.” Pepper smoothed the nap of
her skirt and
said nothing more, and after a moment Oprah continued, her voice
dropping to a confidential level.
“Ladies have been dishing about Tony Stark for the last
twenty years--the man’s known for his, let me say, extravagance.
Now that he’s settling down, can you tell us--is he really
all that?”
Pepper pinkened beautifully, glancing down. “All
I’m
going to say is that his reputation isn’t
exaggerated.”
The audience whistled and cheered, and Oprah laughed again as the
picture began to flicker. Then it dissolved into snow and
disappeared.
“My apologies,” Jarvis said. “I
have lost the signal.”
Tony shook his head, amused and annoyed both at the questions, and
proud of Pepper for handling them so well.
“I’m going
to have to update your stealth routines.”
“Ms. Potts was remarkable,” Jarvis said.
“All
her replies were the strict truth, yet concealed the true circumstances
perfectly.”
That stung. Tony grimaced. “Yeah, well,
Pepper’s great at misdirection.”
“When do you intend to reveal your intent concerning your
engagement?” the AI asked in a tone of scientific
curiosity.
“When did you--oh. Rhodey.”
Tony would have
shrugged if the armor had permitted it. “I
dunno.
When the time’s right, I guess.”
The truth was, he had no idea when--or how--to tell Pepper that he
really wanted to marry her, but improvisation was one of his
strengths. “Consider that proprietary information,
Jarvis. I don’t want you blowing my
cover.”
“As you wish,” Jarvis replied, and if there was an
overlay
of doubt in the AI’s tone, Tony ignored it.
“Are you
aware that you and Ms. Potts were mentioned on last night’s Entertainment Tonight?”
Tony snickered. “Since when do you watch gossip TV,
Jarvis?”
“Since Ms. Potts asked me to monitor news concerning
yourself--approximately six-point-three-three
years.”
“Huh.” Tony blinked. He knew he
was fodder for
the news services at any time, but he hadn’t been aware that
Pepper had recruited Jarvis to help her wrangle them.
“So?”
His HUD came to life again, a standard shot of himself striding from
limo to building, Pepper on his arm. Tony didn’t
recognize
the clip specifically. A woman’s voice cut
in.
“--And rumor has it that Pepper Potts isn’t really
Stark’s fiancée at all. Sources say
she’s
being paid a huge bonus to act the part so as to reassure the public of
Tony’s sanity.”
The clip ended and was replaced by a still photo taken during his first
press conference on his return from Afghanistan, one that showed his
injuries to best advantage. “Given that many also
claim
that Tony’s personal assistant is a lesbian, there may be
more to
this than meets the eye. In any case, it’s said
that the
entire thing was the idea of the SI board of directors.
Observers
expect a blowup soon. In other news--”
“Off,” Tony ordered, more than annoyed.
He knew
better than to take the innuendo seriously, but the implication that
Pepper would lend herself to that kind of scheme made him
angry.
“Does Pepper know about this yet?”
“I included the clip in her morning report. She
viewed it at 7:21 a.m.”
Tony’s mouth twisted as he thought.
“Jarvis...what’s our ETA?”
“Ninety minutes. You will return home before Ms.
Potts does.”
“Good.” Normally Tony preferred to see
her waiting
for him after a mission, but he had a plan. “I need
to make
a phone call.”
The music surrounded him, thrummed through him like a living pulse, let
his mind flow faster through the intricacies of his latest
idea.
It was as much a tool as any of the devices scattered around his
workshop, and it never failed to jar him when it stopped
mid-phrase. As it just had.
“Don’t turn off my music,” Tony said
automatically,
not even bothering to look over his shoulder at Pepper. She
never
obeyed, but it was part of the ritual nonetheless.
“Tony.”
The wrath in her tone brought his head up. Tony ran down a
quick
list of his recent activities, but nothing stood out as being
outrageous enough to anger her. Pasting an innocent look on
his
face, he turned.
“Something wrong?”
Judging from the flash of her eyes, there most definitely
was.
“Care to explain the alteration to my
schedule?” She
waved the BlackBerry she was holding.
Oh.
“Pepper, I’ve been up for at least thirty-six
hours,
you’re going to have to be more
specific.” Actually,
Tony knew exactly what she was talking about, but it was a poor day
when he couldn’t yank her chain a little.
She huffed. “I’m scheduled for a sitting
this
afternoon. For the painting I didn’t agree to
do.”
“You didn’t disagree either.”
Tony smirked at her.
“I don’t have time for this--” she began,
and he
reached out and caught her hand, ignoring the grease he was
transferring to her skin.
“Yes you do, that’s why I had Jarvis handle the
scheduling. Pepper, look. Tierney really wants to
do this,
and he even agreed to come here to do it, which is pretty much
unprecedented. Adding that item to the next press release
will
give us extra credit, because trust me, there are members of the Fourth
Estate that will remember that he did Mom’s
portrait.” He squeezed her fingers, which she was
trying
feebly to pull free. “In fact, it’s
probably the best
thing we could do to demonstrate that we’re
serious.”
He winked. “Besides you moving in with me, that
is.”
Pepper made an exasperated noise. “I’m
not sure this
is necessary.” She pulled harder, but Tony
didn’t
relinquish his grip, instead nudging the ring with his thumb.
It
fascinated him, he had to admit, the wide circlet that signified his
claim on her, however spurious it actually was. It was
atavistic
of him, but he liked seeing a mark of possession on her. And it’s not like she
doesn’t already own me.
Whether she knew it or not, Pepper had laid her stamp on him, and he
didn’t want to lift it.
“I think it is.” He cocked a
brow. “Remember that Entertainment Tonight
soundbite?”
Pepper grimaced with reluctant distaste; she hated the gossip shows
despite her skill at making use of them.
“It’s just
one...”
“And these things spread, you know that.”
He reached
for a rag with his free hand, and loosened his grip enough to dab at
the smudges on hers. “Look at it this way,
it’s easy
and doesn’t involve me groping you in
public.”
She blushed, and took the rag. “You’ll
never get it
off like that.” Jerking her hand free, she wiped
the grease
away. “All right. Though what
you’re going to
do with another portrait--I guess there’s room in
storage.”
Or in my bedroom.
Tony let his victory stand, satisfied. “If you like
it,
Pepper, you can keep it. Think of it as an investment if you
want.” He took the rag back.
Pepper looked down at him, her mouth softening into an expression that
almost seemed wistful.
“Tony...”
He raised his brows encouragingly, but she only shook her head and
turned back towards the stairs. Tony watched her step out
through
the door, and opened his mouth, but before he could order Jarvis to
restart the music, Pepper tapped the lock panel and it blared out
again.
He grinned, and turned back to his work.
Three hours later Jarvis alerted him to the limo approaching the
mansion, and Tony scrubbed up hastily before jogging
upstairs.
He’d sent Happy to fetch Tierney, wanting to give the old man
every courtesy; he respected Tierney’s talent, and besides
that
was grateful for the glimpse of his mother in her youth.
Hogan gave the little man a discreet arm to help him up the stairs to
the door; Tierney was fragile with age, bony and slightly stooped, but
his eyes were bright and clear and his hands steady. He
peered up
at Tony with a dry smile. “Anthony,
you’re looking
well.”
Tony reflected wryly that Tierney was about the only person who could
get away with calling him that--not even Pepper dared.
“Allan, it’s good to see you
again.” He shook
the long-fingered hand extended towards him. “Come
on
in.”
He led Tierney inside, leaving the door open so that Hogan could bring
Tierney’s supplies in from the trunk. Pepper was
waiting in
the living room, and whatever residual annoyance she might have felt
towards Tony was nowhere in evidence as she came forward to greet the
artist. “This is my fiancée,
Virginia,” Tony
said with genuine pride. “Pepper, Allan
Tierney.”
The old man’s face lit at the sight of her, and Tony
smothered a
grin. Tierney had made his reputation on his paintings of
beautiful women, and obviously Pepper met his standards.
“It’s an honor, Mr. Tierney,” Pepper said
softly,
letting him envelop her hand in both of his.
“My dear, I am so glad to meet you.” Tierney
beamed.
“Anthony’s taste is as impeccable as his
father’s.”
Pepper blinked, but her smile didn’t waver. Hogan
appeared
with the equipment, a case in one hand and a canvas in the other, the
folded easel under one muscled arm.
“Where do you want to set up, Allan?” Tony
asked.
“I need southern exposure,” Tierney said, still
holding
Pepper’s hand. “Yes, sunlight will be
best.”
Pepper glanced over at Tony, who nodded. “The white
guest room,” he said. “This
way.”
He led the small cavalcade to the little-used room, listening to
Tierney politely refuse Pepper’s offer of
refreshment. She
would do just fine, Tony knew; her innate graciousness was an asset,
and he judged that Tierney was half in love with her already.
I’d be
jealous if I didn’t know better.
Tierney’s love of beauty was what had drawn him to painting
in
the first place; he adored the women he chose to paint with the pure
passion of an aesthete, free of lust or yearning. It was part
of
what made his work so compelling.
Tierney nodded in approval when they reached the room, which held a
bed, a dresser, and an armchair. They were clean and
dust-free,
but Tony didn’t think the room had actually been used in over
a
year. The wide windows, though, filled the room with
light.
“Yes, yes, this will work,” he said, and at
Tony’s
nod Hogan set down his burdens and melted away.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Tony said
cheerfully, and did
so, knowing that Pepper and Tierney were both in each other’s
good hands. Besides, he preferred to leave rather than being
chased out; the old man never let anyone watch him paint.
Pepper
already looked interested in the process, and that pleased
Tony. She’s
always looking to learn.
And she was sharp. Sooner or later, he knew, Pepper was going
to
ask him how he knew so much about Tierney when the portrait of Maria
Stark had been painted before Tony was born. Resigned, he
headed
for the elevator to fetch his answer.
The sub-basement of the mansion was set up for storage--it had
temperature and humidity controls, and was quite a bit larger than
might be expected even for a billionaire’s home.
But then,
Tony thought as he walked down the main corridor, even other
billionaires didn’t quite have the collection of stuff that
he possessed. Artwork and records, to be sure, along with
antiques, but there were also engines, plane parts, a couple of vintage
motorcycles, and various inventions--some dating from his
father’s day.
That was also part of the reason for the triple security of the
house. Items that one of the members of the Manhattan Project
had
worked on--even discarded ones--could not be trusted to an ordinary
storage facility or the dispassionate care of Stark
Industries.
The sub-basement was hard to get into--and first one had to know it was
there. Tony wasn’t sure that even Obadiah had known
of its
existence.
Pepper knew, of course, he mused as he unlocked one door. She
was
the executor of his will and the one person he trusted
absolutely. And Rhodey knew the codes, though he’d
never
actually entered the place. If we all buy it at once,
though, it’ll be up to Jarvis to decide who gets in.
And given how he’d programmed his AI, Jarvis was more likely
to
seal the doors forever than to let anyone enter.
That suited Tony just fine.
The overhead light came on automatically as the door opened, and Tony
stepped inside the storage room. The cases that held the
various
paintings stored there had been designed not by his father, but by his
mother, who had possessed a strong appreciation for art, though her
tastes did not match those of her son. Tony wasn’t
exactly
sure what some of the cases held--though no doubt Pepper could call up
an inventory for him at a moment’s notice--but he did
remember
where his goal was, because he’d put it there.
Tony found the case, lifting it out of its rack and laying it on the
stand built for just that purpose. He opened it, and looked
down
at himself.
He hadn’t even known who Tierney was when
the old man had called him, a month before his twenty-first
birthday. And Tony hadn’t been inclined to listen
to him,
either, but Obadiah had talked him into the portrait that Tierney had
promised Howard Stark years before.
The young man in the picture stood in front of a background as stormy
gray as his mother’s was velvety crimson. He had
his hands
in his suit pockets, deliberately casual, but his posture bespoke
tension, movement held in check. His face was smooth, bony
even--still hinting at childhood behind the faint smile.
It was undeniably Tony, but a different Tony--not just younger, but
harder. It was odd to think of it that way, Tony thought, but
it
was true; there was arrogance there, confidence in his own power,
but...it took him a moment to figure it out. I refused to admit there was
such a thing as suffering.
He’d known pain by then, to be sure; his parents’
sudden
death had shattered something in him that had never quite healed
completely. But the--the
kid,
Tony admitted ruefully--in the painting hadn’t let anything
touch
him. He was carefully shielded against whatever life might
throw
at him, armored with money and power and his own hard shell, despite
the gleam in his eyes.
The portrait had hung in the main boardroom in Stark
Industries’
headquarters for four years, Tony recalled, opposite that of his
father, though the picture of Howard had been done by a different
artist. Tony had removed both in a fit of petulance one day,
and
Obadiah had claimed Howard’s portrait and hung it in his own
office. It was currently in company storage with the rest of
the
furnishings from that room.
His own image, however, Tony had brought home and put away, and as far
as he knew Pepper had never seen it--he’d taken it down
before
she’d been hired.
Bemused, he lifted it from its case and took it upstairs to his
workshop, knowing that Jarvis would lock the doors behind
him.
Tony propped the painting against one wall, and promptly forgot about
it as he began dismantling the engine of his latest vehicular
acquisition.
The sudden cessation of his music made Tony look up again.
Pepper
was stepping through the door, a tray in one hand, and judging from her
expression she was no longer pissed, for which he was
grateful.
Tony set down a wrench. “How’d it
go?”
“Pretty well. I think.” Pepper
set down the
tray. “Mr. Tierney seemed pleased,
anyway.” She
put one hand on her hip and regarded him. “You
didn’t
eat lunch, so come have supper.”
His stomach was growling.
Tony pushed to his feet and sniffed; chicken noodle soup, it smelled
like. “Did you eat?”
“I had a late lunch.” Pepper watched him
approach the
table where she’d put the food, probably to make sure he
actually
sat down and started eating. Tony complied; Pepper made a mean
soup. “He wants a sitting every day for at least
two weeks. I told him I’d try.”
“Mmm,” Tony said, his mouth full with his first
spoonful. He swallowed. “Talked you into
it,
didn’t he?”
Pepper sniffed, but her lips curled up.
“He’s very charming, in his own
way.”
Tony nodded, and kept eating. Pepper drifted across the shop,
idly examining his latest efforts, and Tony concentrated on the
food. He really was
hungry.
When’s the last time I ate?
He’d just figured out that it had been dinner the night
before
when he saw Pepper crouching down to look at the portrait
he’d
forgotten. Tony stopped mid-chew, then continued, wondering
what
she saw in his post-adolescent face.
Pepper glanced back over her shoulder. “May
I?” she
asked, and Tony shrugged acquiescently. She picked up the
canvas
and straightened, turning so that the light fell fully onto the
image.
She looked at it for a long time before setting it back down where
she’d found it. Tony took a swallow of water and
watched
her as she came back over to where he sat. When she said
nothing,
he raised his brows in inquiry.
“It’s good,” she said
thoughtfully. “He really caught the humor in
you.”
Tony blinked. Humor?
He hadn’t seen that at all.
“You look so young,” Pepper went on, then
blushed. “I mean--”
“I do, yeah,” Tony broke in, grinning a
little.
“I’m trying to remember how he got me to hold still
long
enough to finish the thing.”
That made her chuckle. “Sometimes I wonder what it
would
have been like to have known you then,” she said
whimsically. “But I don’t think we would
have gotten
along.”
Tony regarded her, intrigued by the concept. I have no idea what she was like
at that age.
He wanted to think he would have admired her then as now, but he was
ruefully aware that at age twenty-one his main interest in any female
around his age was pretty much limited to whether she was
hot.
“How old would you have been?
Seventeen?”
“Something like that, yeah.” She
shrugged.
“I was busy with my senior year and working two
jobs.”
His mental picture rearranged itself to a slender girl busy with books
and trays, hair pulled up in a messy bun, big eyes shy.
Setting
down his spoon, he slid off his stool and went over to the painting,
picking it up in turn and regarding it. “I was a
prick,” he said truthfully.
“You were, what, twenty? Twenty-one?”
Pepper said,
following to look over his shoulder. “You were
hardly more
than a kid, and your parents were gone. It was kind of
natural,
Tony.”
The feel of her just behind him set all his nerves alert.
“Maybe.”
She laughed, and her breath brushed his ear and made his skin prickle
delightfully. “I was no prize at that age
either. It
takes time to grow up and learn grace.”
“I can’t imagine you as anything but
graceful.”
Tony set the painting back down but kept his eyes on it, afraid she
would move away if he turned.
“Not the same thing. And as a matter of fact, I was
a
terribly clumsy kid. It took me years to grow into my
legs.”
Pepper was still there, and Tony turned just his head, so he could see
her as well. “Yeah? I’ll bet
you were cute,
though.” He tried to imagine that too, the
long-limbed
girl-child with strawberry hair, tackling the world with her brains and
her courage.
She was smiling, as if at a happy memory. “I had my
moments.”
That did it. Tony pivoted, catching her gaze with his, and
just
like that the tension was back, singing in the narrow space between
them. Pepper’s smile faded and her lips parted, and
Tony
inhaled, savoring the scent of her that filled the gap, not letting her
eyes move from his. He held on with all his will, leaning
forward, this time he was going to make the connection and--
Pepper blinked, and stepped back. “I need to get
back to
work,” she said, her voice tight. Tony rocked
slightly with
her sudden turn, all his senses reaching out for the woman now making
her hasty way towards the stairs. Disappointed arousal
cramped
his breathing for a moment, but Tony was nothing if not a fast
thinker. By the time she was opening the door, he was heading
back to his interrupted meal.
“Were you a waitress during college?” he called
after her,
as casually as he could manage, as he resumed his seat.
“Because I can just picture you all dolled up in a frilly
apron.”
Pepper glanced back, and the embarrassment on her face faded, replaced
with mischief. “Not exactly.”
She slipped
through the doorway, pausing just long enough to speak once
more.
“I was a model.”
Tony froze, soup spoon halfway to his mouth as she disappeared up the
stairs. His brain was suddenly running in high gear, tumbling
over a thousand imaginings of Pepper stalking down a catwalk, posing
for photos, seducing the camera--is
that where she learned to walk in those heels?
It took him a few minutes to break the spell she’d laid on
him. He cleared his throat. “Jarvis, run
a search for
any available photos of Ms. Virginia Potts. Advertisements,
head
shots, anything.”
“Actually, sir, Pepper has authorized you to access her
personal
photo file.” The big screen on the wall beyond his
workbench lit up. “To, and I quote, ‘save
me time
since I know you won’t leave me alone until you see
them’.”
“She knows me,” Tony commented under his breath,
then
raised his voice. “Let’s see them,
Jarvis.”
A file icon appeared on the screen. “In what
order?” the AI inquired. “By
agency?”
“Chronologically, oldest first,” Tony
instructed. He
pushed the soup bowl absently aside and leaned forward.
The picture that flashed up on the screen didn’t exactly kill
his
lust, but it did throttle it back, because the girl smiling back at him
couldn’t be more than fifteen years old. It was the
kind of
image found in department store catalogs, a tall teen in jeans and a
winter coat, her red-blonde hair in two braids. She looked impossibly young
and even more innocent than Pepper usually managed, despite her bright
blank grin.
Tony stared at her. The image was making a lump rise in his
throat, and he didn’t know why. He cleared it with
a short
cough. “Next picture, Jarvis.”
There were a dozen more in the same vein, all winter clothing for teen
girls. Tony told Jarvis to transfer control to the keyboard
under
his soup bowl, and clicked through each one, studying them, looking for
some hint of the Pepper he knew. But the traces were scant;
she
might have been a cardboard cutout, presenting the same untouched
glossiness in every shot.
The next photos were a little older and a lot more
sophisticated.
They were all close shots, selling cosmetics; Tony barely noticed the
occasional brand logo, too taken up with Pepper’s features so
dramatically highlighted in the flashier styles of the time.
She
normally wore very little makeup, which made the contrast all the
sharper, and Tony zoomed in on exaggeratedly fringed eyes and lids
blotted with a rainbow of colors and tried again to find her.
There were hints in the curve of her lips, the tilt of her head as she
regarded the camera. A bit of secret humor, a touch of the
searching look that he saw more often these days--all combined with a
blatant commercial seduction meant to sell whatever she was
wearing. Tony had dated many models, and he was familiar with
how
they could put up a professional mask without a moment’s
thought. Until now, he’d never bothered to try to
look
beneath.
Past the makeup ads, though, were more clothes, and this time he pegged
her age at twenty at least. She was taller, cooler, more
confident, obviously practiced in the smoky glance and sauntering
stride of the living mannequin. This was an adult, and
Tony’s libido stirred again as she showed off dresses and
blouses, skirts and jeans so tight they should have been
illegal.
Even when her hair abruptly became a sleek short cap of shimmering red,
his attention didn’t waver. If there’s a lingerie
series in here--
But the next set made him blink, because they were mostly of her
feet. “Huh,” Tony said softly, watching
her ankles
and toes showcase high heels of almost every description. She comes by her fondness
honestly.
The shoes ran out, and that was all. Tony propped his chin in
his
hand and paged slowly back through, watching Pepper grow younger,
thinking. I
figured she was uncomfortable with Vee’s shoot because she
wasn’t used to it.
After all, Pepper usually managed to avoid the cameras that were
trained on him every week, and even when they caught her she was almost
always in the background. But if she did all this,
then...
...Then she must
have another reason.
Tony pursed his lips, considering. Remembering.
When
he’d looked at the proofs, he’d seen more than
he’d
expected to in his own face. Is the same true for
her?
Had Pepper feared what the camera might reveal?
It was an idea worth considering. Tony tapped the keyboard
one
more time. “Jarvis, copy all to my private server,
folder
name Pepper Two.”
There was already a Pepper One folder, storing a handful of e-mails and
other messages that for one reason or another had amused Tony enough
for him to keep them. However, Tony figured that some of Two
would be worth looking over again. In private. Lack
of
lingerie notwithstanding.
He regarded the blank screen for a moment. “Run
that
search,” he said finally. “Check for
anything in the
SI files as well. Dump them all in the folder and
I’ll look
at them later.”
“Very good, sir,” Jarvis replied.
“Shall I
inform Pepper of your new trend towards voyeurism?”
Tony let the corner of his mouth twitch up wryly.
“Smartass.”
Odds are she
knew I’d do it anyway.
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