A/N: This story, unlike JtG, is mostly all fictional A/N: This story, unlike JtG, is mostly all fictional. This is just for pure fun with the characters. Enjoy.

- The Anatomy of a Player -

Chapter 1

Fate is a funny thing. Just when one thinks they have it all figured out, the world throws a curveball.

Would it be called fate? Lea would think maybe it's more along the lines of frightfully unlucky. Whatever it was that made her love fashion, and accept that tour to New York, and run into… him… can't be described as anything else but bad luck. How was she supposed to know he was a model now? She was so busy with work the only person she talked to was her boss. There was no way to see it coming.

Lea had a good life prior. She was a girly girl, sweet, sheltered, perhaps even naïve. She was not bad looking, according to the standards of many men, and had plenty of them paying her attention. She had a successful career as an assistant to a designer of three major clothing lines for women and men, which means she got all the best fashions as new as they came. And a certain fateful business trip came at the best possible time.

Lea approached the ordeal with a fluid stride. She was alert, proper, clipboard at the ready, hard at work taking notes for her superior, who was acting as inspector to the models before a big photo shoot.

The men entered in single file. Lea gasped and a loud clack was heard, ringing through the empty studio as her clipboard fell to the floor. She bent down quickly to retrieve it, while her boss gave her a strange look.

"Lea, what is wrong with you?"

What was wrong? What was wrong was seeing her ex-boyfriend come into the room in glowing magnificence. He, of course, was surprised too. Lea tried to hide her face, but it's too late.

"No freakin' way…" His voice was angelic. That grin was from Satan. He hadn't changed one bit.

"Quiet!" Lea's superior, Mrs. Bronwin, shouted firmly, as she headed to the other end of the line of models.

Trent got gitty with amusement, standing military-style with his hands behind his back and his spine straight. He fought his laughter with minimal success, while Lea did her darndest to conduct official business.

"Your full name, sir," she commanded him to state, pen and clipboard at the ready, acting like she didn't know him proir.

"Trenton Alexander Wilder. Hey, what's up? What are the odds we meet up again like this? Fate's funny like that, I guess."

She, for one, was not laughing. Trent found it all very hilarious, smirking at her with his confident way.

"Age?" Lea said shortly, ignoring his questions like the professional she was still trying to convince her boss she was. Trent leaned from side to side, trying to get a decent look at her body.

"Twenty-two. Hey, you look good. That little secretary sex kitten thing is a great look for you."

Lea sighed impatiently to cover for the blushing and pressed on, pretending she didn't notice the next boy down the line shooting a confused look their way.


"Six one. You love nesting around here now?"

"Pant size?"

"Thirty-four long. Lea, come on, you're not gonna say something back? It's been over a year."

Lea looked at him straight in those amber eyes of his. A mistake. Her heart took off full speed ahead.

"Shoe size?" The words were getting harder to push out of her mouth.

"Ten and a half. Look, I got a great restaurant at my hotel."

Lea quickly gulped away the thought of meeting Trent at a hotel, so very close to hotel rooms. Then she scolded herself for letting thoughts of Trent drift so easily to the prospect of… that. Though, with Trent around it was pretty much expected.

"Allergic to any fabrics?"

"I think everyone's allergic to spandex."

She shot him a look.

"Hey, how's Ken?" he asked, figuring he had her attention now. "You pop out any puppies by him yet?"

She moved on to the next model down the line, a shorter redhead with dashing light greens. She scribbled down the last of her notes, and didn't answer.

"Your full name, sir?" Lea asked the redhead boy before her. The boy was gathering the air to speak when Trent leaned over and hissed at her again.

"The Pierre Hotel at seven," he ordered. "Com'on, how can you resist?"

Lea blushed, the way she used to when he made advances on her. She accidentally wrote the same word three times. A free meal was a free meal, right? And just because Trent was a man-whore didn't mean she had to give him some. It was all about control. If things got tense, she'd just leave. End of story. Right?

Lea tapped her pencil on the edge of her clipboard, very deep in thought.

"I'll see you there," Trent whispered, just to seal the deal.

Lea frowned, not liking his assumptions.

"Mr. Wilder, is it?" Mrs. Bronwin had appeared out of nowhere. "Are we paying you to talk? No. We are paying you to be a model which doesn't require brains nor words, so please grace us with your silence."

She set her aim on Lea next.

"And as for you, young intern. I'm not paying you to canoodle with my models. Remember how expendable you are."

"But I'm not-!" Lea spat in protest.

"Is that backsass I hear?" Mrs. Bronwin inclined an ear to listen. Lea cowered back quickly, biting her lip to hold back frustration.

"No, ma'am."

"Then by all means, carry on, actually earn your pay, perhaps."

Lea shot Trent a harsh look, but he seemed to find it all very amusing, as his devilish grin broke through.

Another Jonnie endeavor! I hope you like this series as much as I do. Please review.