The Model Agent

By SarahsSupplyCloset

Author's Note: Thanks for the feedback on the first part of this. I'd love to keep getting some feedback. Thanks for your support.

Summary: Sarah Walker's modeling career is in its budding stages when the CIA recruits her into their ranks at 16. 10 years later, she's balancing being a world famous supermodel and actress with spying for the CIA. Her existence is fraught with danger and she's constantly on the go, until she meets a disarmingly sincere man on the beach...and her life is changed forever.

Disclaimer: I do not own CHUCK. I am not making any money writing this story.


She took a deep breath, eyeing the grouping of rose bushes, enjoying the shiver that ran through her. It was a little chilly but she preferred it to the heat. It was nice for a change, considering how packed it was inside, the heat blasting for some insane reason.

Sarah Walker had needed a break, and without a mission hanging over her head, she was allowed to just be herself tonight. Being herself meant sneaking away, without needing to make connections or sneak information out of any potential intel holders. And so that was what she did.

Nobody would miss her, really. They already got her check. Newman Ellis had hovered close to her when he could find her, so maybe he was missing her, but she didn't much care how he felt about anything either way. She didn't care if he was head of EVM and created the most coveted car in Europe. He was exactly the type of person you might expect he'd be what with the first name of Newman.

And it wasn't that she didn't enjoy these charity galas. They typically raised millions for charity, and she felt it was her duty to contribute a good chunk of her own money to these causes. It was something she'd promised herself she would do, to counteract her father's fraudulent and criminal behaviors…but also just because she didn't need as much money as she had and she knew others deserved it and could actually use it.

It was just that these functions were something of a photo op for a lot of the celebrities and politicians who showed up. They'd make their appearance, write their check, say some "it's the least I can do" line, and then hightail it out of there soon thereafter. And sometimes she didn't want to be a party to that. She needed to step away from it and head out behind the center where the garden said anything about this area being off limits. And sure, she'd picked the lock to the gate that led into the rose garden but she was going to leave it exactly the way she found it, so she imagined nobody would even notice.

The moon was out, she was free from her CIA obligations for the time being, the foliage around her was gorgeous, and she was generally feeling rather good about everything. Especially since it had been a week since she'd been contacted for a mission. She'd gone longer. She wasn't like their regular agents. She was reserved for specialized jobs that required her name and her access to the upper echelon.

She wouldn't mind it if they took extra long to find something for her to do. If she could just continue to do her real job the way she'd planned to when she walked out of that modeling job the first time when she was still a young teen.

Granted, she really hadn't expected this much fame to come her way. Or any kind of acting jobs. Not that the Tabitha Rook series wasn't a complete blast. Swinging on vines like a pants and tank top wearing female Tarzan, working out so that she could do her own stunts, working with Dale Janssen, who'd been a really fun collaborative director who gave her a lot of freedom, even as a newcomer to acting.

She wanted to do more of that and less of the spy thing. But the CIA would have their claws in her until they decided to take them out, and no sooner than that.

Sighing, she decided to just go back, make herself known to the host, listen to at least one of the speakers, maybe eat whatever the tiny desserts being walked around by wait staff were. Or maybe she'd eat 16 of them. Just as a little fuck you to her stupid strict diet she was keeping up while continuing to work out. They were still trying to finalize a deal for a 4th Tabitha Rook film.

Sarah made sure the lock clicked behind her as she left the rose garden behind, carefully picking her way along the path in her heels, glad they'd laid down stone. She'd still walk through dirt if the stones hadn't been here, and she'd deal with the consequences. The roses would be worth it.

A little solitude would be worth it after the stuffy room and the, admittedly, stuffy atmosphere in there. She liked a lot of those people, and then there were enough that she decidedly did not like.

If Newman Ellis never spoke to her again, she'd be okay with it. She really didn't think there'd be much in it for her if she accepted his offer to become his new car's official model.

"A sexy woman in a sexy, fast car," he'd said, all smug while he said it.

Gross.

She was famous and rich and powerful enough to brush guys like him off, to be full-on cruel, mean, rude, what have you. But that behavior would never sit well with her, and she wouldn't be that kind of person. The one who was praised up and down in public, and then in private, behind closed doors, she was royally dragged for being a bitch or something.

The idea of that being her legacy made her cringe.

And so she was polite, as polite as she could manage.

If he found her inside again and tried to put his hand on her, she might break his finger though. She thought not many people in the room, the women especially, would blame her for it. He had a reputation, so she imagined the only ill-will they'd bear towards her would be that they hadn't broken his bones first.

She smirked, snorting softly as she gracefully picked up the skirt of her gown and held it up just enough to be able to walk up the stone stairs that led to the veranda overlooking a sumptuous Los Angeles view, the lights bright, the Hollywood sign on the side of the mountain, lit up like a beacon of hope. Though she knew some would say it was more of a symbol of greed and moral rot.

As she made her way up the last few steps, she realized someone else was on the veranda and she rolled her eyes to the sky. She'd hoped for just a bit more alone time outside before finally making her way back in to mingle.

He was leaned forward over the railing, looking out over the manicured landscape, the trees in which the rose garden resided in a clearing in the middle, and the rest of LA out in the distance.

When he moved back just a bit, she stopped, her hand reaching out to clamp down on the staircase railing to her left, squeezing hard.

Her jaw fell open as she stood on the top step.

It couldn't be…

It wasn't…

God, it was.

It was him.

She didn't even pause over his name, since it had been rolling around in her brain since she saw him last. She'd wondered about him, felt pangs of regret at walking away without getting at least a phone number.

"Chuck?"

He spun to face her with wide eyes, apparently having not known there was someone else on the veranda with him. He stood up straight, pushing up from where his elbows leaned on the railing, and she was struck again by his height.

She hated how quickly she'd noticed the suit he was wearing and how well it fit him, and how it somehow made him taller…

He just gaped at her. And for a split second, she thought he didn't remember her. It was quite the blow to her ego, but maybe she could use a bit of a check to her ego, spending her days and nights being told by everyone how gorgeous she was to the point where millions of photographs must exist of her out there by now.

And then his features fell into shock as he really took her in. There was a twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. And finally there was that grin of his, pleasure in every last bit of his face. "Wow, okay, well …" He let out a quiet breathy laugh. "I think saying 'what a small world' is an understatement."

So he did recognize her. She felt something blooming in her chest, seeing him standing there just about 12 feet away, beaming at her again like he had that day on the beach. Only this time there was just moonlight and a few lit lamps nearby, rather than the blazing California midday sun.

"This is absolutely insane," she said, shaking her head with a pleased smile as she moved closer.

"It is," he said, widening his eyes as he turned to face her properly. She finally stopped in front of him as he paused significantly. And then he just smiled and said, like it was the easiest thing in the world, "Hello, Sarah."

So that made something in her chest absolutely flutter, so sue her.

She grinned hard, remembering a time not so long ago (about 20 seconds or so?) when she'd thought he didn't remember their meeting from a few weeks back. And now here they were, both of them remembering one another's respective name.

"How's the shoulder?" she asked, gesturing to it with a flick of her head.

Chuck did a bit of a shoulder shimmy, then shrugged, his movement unhindered as she giggled at his unashamed silliness.

"Healed alright," he said happily. "I haven't gotten around to it just yet because I'm a very, very busy man, but you'll be receiving an invoice soon with my hospital bill on it."

Sarah laughed, shaking her head. "Damn. Thought maybe I'd escaped you."

"Oh, no no. I was gonna getcha eventually." Then he paused, narrowing his eyes at her and stepping even closer. She took a deep breath, holding it as she looked up at him. God, she was wearing 4 inch heels and he still had, like, 3 inches on her or something. "Hold on," he said, lowering his chin to look at her through his very long eyelashes. "You're here." He poked the stone railing next to him with his pointer finger. "The only people who got an invite to this thing, at least, as far as I know, aaaaare, um, well, you know… It's a lavish and super exclusive event. So you must be…somebody…" He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "I'm not sure how to say it."

"Rich?" she offered, tilting her head.

He looked like he wanted to dispute it, like maybe he thought it was the polite and modest thing to do. But then he let out a "pfft" and shrugged. "Rich. Yep."

She smirked, leaning her hip against the railing and raising an eyebrow. She'd come to the same conclusion, absolutely gobsmacked to see him at a place like this. "I could say the same for you, you know…"

Chuck laughed then, waggling his finger in amusement. "Yoooou… I get it now. You were absolutely sure that I was gonna sue you that day at the beach, and I've put the pieces together now." He leaned in close and she had to hold her breath again. "Are you famous?"

Now that they were apparently invited to the same party, a party that was full of millionaires, both celebrity and not, she found herself giggling softly, turning to look out over the trees she'd just wandered out of a few minutes ago. "This is utterly bizarre," she breathed, shaking her head.

"I know. What a small world."

She laughed, enjoying the cheeky way he pursed his lips as if he was a little proud he'd made her laugh.

"Honestly, I'm not sure how to answer that question." She shrugged.

"Whether or not you're famous? Really? Yes or no would suffice." He raised his eyebrows.

She raised her eyebrows back at him. "Well, what about you?" She crossed her arms.

"Oh, I'm definitely not," he replied immediately, holding his hands up.

"Yeah, didn't think so."

He barked out a laugh that was hard enough he had to lean forward as she watched, feeling chills wrack her body wonderfully at the pleasant sound.

"Wow," he droned. "Thanks so much. Thank you."

She giggled and put a hand on his arm. "I'm kidding. Honestly, if you don't run in the modeling world, there's a good chance I wouldn't know even if you were famous."

He nodded sagely, looking completely unsurprised. "Ah, I see, I see. You're a model."

She let out a quiet and slow, "Mhm."

He smiled. "You know, Sarah, that makes a helluva lotta sense."

"What does?" She made a face, not sure where he was going with that.

"That you're a model. You look like one."

Sarah gave him a bit of a suspicious look. "You really don't know who I am, do you?" It was less of a question this time.

The witty banter he'd been keeping up with her faltered and he cleared his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably, and she spotted a blush on his cheeks. It was wickedly charming, and she felt her smile grow as she watched him look away, obviously ashamed. Then he winced. "I really don't. Sorry."

She appreciated his honesty.

He looked legitimately embarrassed and she quickly sought to ease his embarrassment, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing reassuringly. "No, please don't feel bad."

"I kind of live under a rock in a lot of ways, you know? So if I'm…"

"You don't have to explain," she interrupted, smirking. "It's…This sounds really cliché, but it's refreshing, meeting someone who doesn't know who I am." She rolled her eyes, hearing how it sounded. "God, that made me sound so full of myself." He made a face. "I tend to meet someone new to me and they already know who I am and all this stuff about me. And then I just feel like people walk on eggshells because they're hyper-aware of my fame or whatever… or they hit on me. There's no real in-between."

He sighed wistfully. "Well, leave it to me to get run over by a supermodel, and then not recognize said supermodel even though she's crazy famous."

She let out a soft hum of amusement, shaking her head. "It's not a bad thing. I was actually being treated like a real, normal person for a while and it felt amazing."

"I'm glad my being completely out of touch with a hugely visible faction of popular culture was able to brighten your day a little. And thanks for saying that, because it made me feel a little less embarrassed for not recognizing you at all."

She grinned. "And you? You're here, so you're 'somebody'," she said, doing air quotes. "Who, exactly, was it that I ended up running over?"

"Me. Don't you remember?" He poked himself in the chest and gave her a teasing look like she was crazy. She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, making him laugh. She couldn't help giggling and shaking her head. "Sorry. Just a little levity in the light of the full moon." The look on his face was a little cheeky, even if self-deprecating, and she found she enjoyed the combination in him. "My name is Charles Bartowski—Chuck, if you'd prefer—and you've definitely not heard of me."

She raised her eyebrows. "You sure assumed that immediately."

"Have you heard of me?" he asked, looking genuinely surprised.

"Well, no. But still, you assumed." Chuck cracked up, his head falling back. "Why haven't I heard of you? You in music?" He shook his head. "Hotel business?" That wasn't it either as he shook his head again. "Oh, no, you aren't an actor, are you?"

"No," he chuckled.

"Some heir to a huge fortune who spends all his time doing philanthropic work?"

"Uh, definitely not an heir, no. But I do try to be philanthropic as often as I can be…"

"Hence why you're here," she said with a nod, and he nodded back. "You're an artist."

Chuck snorted. "Oh God no. Nooo. Unless you count really rudimentary stick figures as art…"

"I don't," she said with a straight face. And he laughed again. "Seriously," she chuckled. "Just tell me."

"I'm in the tech business."

"Really? Like Bill Gates, huh?"

"Pfffttt. Not even in the same category as that guy. No one is. But on a general level, yes. See, Microsoft produces computers, laptops, tablets, phones, whatever else…My company creates programs that you download onto those devices," he said, smiling pleasantly.

"Ahh, I see. So you're like…some kind of coder…?" she asked. "What kind of programs are you coding?"

"Whatever you can think of. Or, well, whatever my writers and the rest of the creative team thinks of. Nerd Tech Incorporated runs the gamut—from antivirus and cyber security stuff to video games and learning programs. Tools to help you do…whatever." He shrugged and leaned a palm on the railing, tilting his head again.

"Nerd Tech Incorporated, huh?" She gave him a dubious look.

"Never heard of it, have you?"

"I mean, maybe? I can't recall. Sorry."

"It's okay," he said, shrugging. "I don't like the idea of my name being tossed around like Bill Gates is. If people can just buy and download the programs and use them without thinking about the brand name, that's all the better for us. I've always operated better not being the center of attention," he chuckled.

God, she related to that so much.

"Well, you're big enough that you got this invite." She decided not to bother with modesty. The only people who were here either had a lot of fame, a lot of money, or both. Unless he'd slipped through the cracks somehow. Folks didn't normally slip through the cracks at parties like this.

"Uh, I'm not sure how to respond to that. Honestly. I mean, and not sound like a conceited dick."

She giggled. "I guess not. But I get the picture, I think." He had a lot of money. That was interesting. You could usually peg a guy with a lot of money a mile away, even in swim trunks on a beach. But she definitely had not pegged him.

"You do?"

"Maybe." She shrugged her shoulders a bit coyly. "I apologize for not recognizing you, or your company. That's just…way out of my line of business," she admitted.

"I'm sorrier," he groused. "Shit, you're actually famous apparently. Enough that your first thought when you ran me over a few weeks ago was that I was gonna recognize you and sue the crap out of you. Apparently I should definitely know who you are. I imagine your face is on, like, everything." He rolled his eyes at himself.

"Well, they…" She winced. "Maybe all of the airbrushing and photoshopping. I've tried to put my foot down on all of that but it makes no difference with some of those guys."

"Whaaaaaat?" He made a dubious face. "They use photoshop on you? Pfft. That's ridiculous. The hell they even find that they gotta fix? You're…" He stopped himself then and winced. "I'm gonna…shut up now."

Sarah laughed, shaking her head, not really sure how to react. "I, um, get what you're trying to say, and it's sweet. Thank you. And anyway, photoshopping or not, I'm glad you aren't familiar with my…" She waved her arm around. "Everything in my existence." She giggled self-deprecatingly. "What I mean is…it makes this conversation a lot more interesting."

"You aren't offended?" he asked.

She cracked up. "Oh God, no. I love my work, and I love the certain amount of power it's granted me, the way doors are open to me now that wouldn't be open to someone else not in my position. But I'd honestly not mind so much if there weren't quite so many people who know me. Less people would be recognizing me and things would be so much easier."

"Oof. You probably get recognized everywhere, huh?"

She shrugged modestly. "Well, I mean, I'm no Brad Pitt."

"Nah, he's not nearly pretty enough."

Sarah laughed. "Thank you…I guess."

She tilted her head and made a face, making him laugh. She needed to stop thinking about how much she liked the sound of it whenever she heard it. It was potentially dangerous.

"So Nerd Tech. Let me see if I can guess. Your parents started it and they're passing it down to you. You do all of the charity functions and stuff that means dealing with people because you're young, handsome, and charming. How'd I do?" She knew she was flirting, leaning close like this, biting her lip. She thought maybe she should tone it down a bit. Maybe. Or she could just keep doing this because she liked the way he was reacting to it, like he was half-surprised, half-interested. "Or! You're some guy who sits at one of the computers in a cubicle, crunching numbers or whatever…and you managed to sneak in. Somehow."

He laughed. "As romantic as that sounds, uh, there is no way one of my programmers would ever get past the freakin' secret service level security measures this place has got around it. Holy crap, did you see the bouncers at the front gate and then at the door?"

She giggled. "Bouncers? This isn't a nightclub."

"Okay, that's fair," he chuckled, blushing a little. "But um, no, no. I'm the founder. CEO. Et cetera. It's my company. I started Nerd Tech Inc. NTI, if you'd prefer. Shorter." He shrugged.

"Oh," she said with a wince, "so you came up with that name, huh? Yikes."

He cracked up. "Wow. Wow, okay, I'm so sorry the name I came up with when I was 20 isn't good enough for you, damn."

She was laughing, but then she realized what he'd just said. "20? Seriously? You started your company when you were 20?" He nodded. "Holy shit. I think I was getting drunk in the back of Olga Flack's third home in Vegas at 20. So congrats to you on having your shit together at 20."

He snorted. "Oh, God. You kidding' me? I was still neck deep in debt. Took a few years to actually start producing and making profit."

"And then you hit oil?"

"Something like that."

"Huh. I gotta say, I think it's kinda nice you show up at these things yourself instead of sending someone else to do it, a Nerd Tech—NTI," she corrected, "ambassador or something."

Chuckling, he shook his head, turning to face her better and leaning against the railing. "No, it isn't really even all that necessary for NTI to have anyone show up at these galas and benefits and…whatever else they wanna call 'em on the invitations." He shook his head. "It just feels necessary for me, our business be damned. I mean, it's necessary to me, but NTI doesn't need these connections." She tilted her head in question. "I just mean that NTI is…uh, ahem, very successful. I just want to…give back."

She smiled. "Are you global? Or just a domestic corporation?"

"Oh, global. Mostly in the Western world, and then we have a presence in Japan as well. Can't be tech without being in Japan. Not in the 21st century. I'm trying to find a berth in Seoul too."

Sarah raised her eyebrows. "Wow. A self-made man, huh? Sorry, I'm gonna keep doing this, and probably gonna keep getting it wrong, so bear with me. You started your company while you were studying at some Ivy League?"

"Nope, Stanford." He grinned, seeming to get more fascinated the more she guessed wrong about him.

"Well shit so you're basically a slacker."

God she loved his laugh. It filled her with…something. "The worst slacker. I literally stumbled onto my own company, snapped my fingers, and like magic, made—well, a lot," he said, clearing his throat.

"I'm impressed, getting to be so successful and not actually having to do any work to get there?" She raised her eyebrows teasingly.

He grinned, obviously amused by their game. And then he let out a breath through pursed lips. "In all seriousness, I don't think I stopped working, 24/7, since I was 14 years old."

"You started your Nerd company when you were 14?" she asked.

"No, no of course not," he chuckled. "No, but I knew it was what I wanted. So I basically kicked my own ass to get the best GPA possible, I dove into as many extracurriculars as I could that had bus stops near them, and didn't stop going 'til…Well, I still have a hard time stopping…going." He sighed. "That was the best sentence I've ever constructed I think. You're lucky you witnessed that."

She laughed, absolutely charmed. For someone who was as apparently successful as he was, the fact that he was still capable of being self-deprecating in such an amused, secure way, while not making it feel uncomfortable at all, said wonders about the kind of person he was.

And Sarah found she was extra glad she chose to go surfing that day a few weeks ago.

"I do feel pretty lucky, actually," she admitted, and he must have heard the thread of sincerity in her tone, because his features went soft as he looked at her.

"Careful, Miss Walker. You might make me extra comfortable and who knows what might come outta my mouth then?"

She giggled. "I don't mind it. I promise you, I don't. I'll take anything that's genuine and real and human."

"As opposed to…?" he asked, sincere curiosity on his face.

Sarah wasn't sure how to answer. She thought for a moment. "I don't know. Trumped up lines, things people think I wanna hear, slogans, propaganda, and whatever else insincere jargon you can think of."

He made a thoughtful face. "Well…this is the only way I know how to be, the only way I know how to talk. So you're in luck, I guess."

She could hug him.

She really could.

But she didn't. She held back. Instead she just smiled out over the view. "You're making my night, Nerd Company Guy."

"Nerd Company Guy?" he asked, laughing. "That's charming. I like it."

Sarah just grinned, deciding she could really stay out here with him like this all night. She didn't care about what was going on inside. She just wanted to stand on this veranda talking to this guy with his fitted suit and tie, his curls, his kind face with the cute nose and warm, sincere brown eyes. His smile and his laugh.

"Gotta say, just for the record," he continued, a crooked smile on his face. "You're making the bruise and almost-drowning totally worth it."

She wasn't expecting it and she laughed, letting her face fall into her hands, groaning. "God, I'll never live it down, will I?"

"Not with me. Nope. But while I don't really think 'fate' is a realistic concept, I hafta admit that it feels like something like fate happened that day. Don't you think so?"

There was definitely electricity in the air when she met his gaze. The dim lighting out on the veranda made it hard to see every last fleck of color in his eyes, but she saw the golden intermixed with the light brown. It was dazzling, honestly. And here she'd thought Bryce would always take the cake for best eyes. They were his best feature, according to tabloid surveys. She'd never truly agreed with tabloid surveys until she agreed with that one. Though none of them ever asked about whether he was a cheating son of a bitch or not.

She shook her head at herself to get herself back out of her head.

"No?"

"W-What?" She lifted her gaze to him, realized he thought she was shaking her head no at his question, and quickly put her hand on his arm. "Oh! No. No, God, I'm sorry. I didn't think about what I was doing. I wasn't shaking my head at you. I had my head somewhere else for a second. I'm sorry. I do agree with you. It was something…like fate." He smiled obligingly. She hissed through her teeth and furrowed her brow. "Wow. I've prided myself in never making a slip on the runway during a show, but maybe I should work harder on not slipping in other situations."

He chuckled. And then she felt his hand slip over hers where it rested on the stone railing. It was warmer than her own hand and it felt good. But then it was gone just as quickly. "Listen, you're in good company." That made her snort softly. He looked at her then, idly reaching up to fix his tie. "And, you know, it's pretty impressive that you've managed to keep from falling while on the runway for…well, for however long you've been at it. I've seen the videos of supermodels completely eating it. Looks pretty nasty and they're all very tall. I can attest that falling from this height is really unpleasant."

She laughed. "Oh God, never ever bring up those 'supermodel falls on runway' videos with a supermodel."

"Yikes," he said, wrinkling his nose. "You're right. Sorry. My bad."

"No, it's okay," she giggled. "I mean, from here on out, when you meet other supermodels, maybe don't bring those videos up. But I don't get pissed about it. I've seen them and cracked up too, I won't lie to you." She shook her head, smirking. "I try not to take myself too seriously that I lose my sense of humor. I've been at this for so long, I'm used to people assuming I'm vacuous and totally empty up here," she said, tapping her temple. "I've learned to brush stuff like that off."

"Oh, man. I love stereotypes," he said drily, sarcasm evident in his handsome features.

"I read books. Just so you know." She grinned. "Mostly picture books, but still…"

He cracked up and she saw she took him by surprise with that one.

"I'm kidding. I despise stuff like Kafka and all that philosophy mumbo jumbo, but I could sit and read a good story with good characters all day. And I like Shakespeare. His sonnets, mostly. They're beautiful."

"You're a Shakespeare fan, huh?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Surprising, I know."

"No, no. Not for the reason you're thinking. Or, I mean, the reason I think you're thinking." He made a face and she giggled. "I just didn't get Shakespeare. In school and stuff. It just…" He sliced his hand through the air over his head. "Right over my head. I was an idiot with poetry and all that. But you're talking to a big comic book and sci-fi fan."

"Aren't comic books just pictures? Like, does that count as reading, really?"

His jaw fell open as she grinned cheekily.

"Haaaaaaaaa good one. Nice. That was great." Then he tilted his head, laughing softly. "You know? You really aren't wrong. But they're deep, Sarah. They're still deep."

"I don't deny it," she chuckled. "But I think I could make you like Shakespeare's sonnets," she flirted after a few seconds of comfortable silence between them, the night air feeling glorious as it cooled down even more.

She felt his eyes on her profile and she turned her eyes back on him after a few moments.

He bit his lip, ducking his head, looking almost bashful. It was seriously cute.

"You know, I really think you could make me like just about anything, Sarah."

There was no denying it.

Something was there, lingering between them. It was hot. Sizzling, even. And she was having a lot of fun with it. With him. And here she thought that she'd lost her chance.

"That's quite a statement. You sure about that?"

"Definitely," he said immediately, assuredly.

"Says the guy who actually reads picture books."

He laughed. "You're making fun of me for my thing with comic books, and I totally get it. I get it. You've never tried them, though, I'm assuming." She shrugged, smiling at him coyly. "I'm telling you right now, if I sat down with you and showed you a comic book, you'd feel differently."

"I dare you to sit down with me," she teased.

"I'll take that dare."

"Good. We're agreed. You bring the comic books and I'll bring Shakespeare's sonnets."

"And then I'll get you to read Isaac Asimov. And Octavia E. Butler."

"No, see, now you're pushing it."

"I've gone too far?"

"Yep." She laughed. "I said comic books, okay? I'm not asking to be made into a whole dork."

"Nerd, actually. It's…nerd. As in Nerd Tech Incorporated? Just…a small gripe. I have."

She smirked and widened her eyes. "I'm so sorry. Nerd. I will not have you making me into a nerd. No way. I've had people try to foist that stuff on me before and it didn't catch. I'm just warning you."

"Have you?" he asked, interested.

She bit her lip, nodding. "I was asked to host some award show for video games. You know, drop a supermodel into the middle of a lion's den, attract more lions."

"What awards show?" he asked, his jaw having fallen open.

"Something called the Indie Gamers Telethon? I think that was it. It was 4 years ago. It was a charity—"

"Waaaait, no. No, no, no. You didn't host that. I know you didn't. NTI co-sponsored it and I was there and you weren't. I know you weren't because I absolutely would have remembered you, Sarah Walker."

So many people had said similar things to her and it bounced off of her like nothing, but he was just so matter-of-fact about it, like it was just how it was, that she stuck out enough for him that he simply knew he would remember her if he'd ever seen her before. And she supposed he really meant it, since he had remembered her, and her name, even a couple of weeks after they met at the beach.

She found herself melting a little as she giggled. "You didn't let me finish." He held up a hand in apology. "I was shooting the last few scenes of a film, and I was in Taiwan, so I just couldn't justify flying all the way back to Silicon Valley to host something that, while great because it was for charity, was not up my alley in any way, shape, or form… only to then fly back to Taiwan the next day to finish the shoot? Ugh." She shook her head vehemently.

"Nnnnnnooooo," he groaned. "Agh, that depresses me."

"Why?" she chuckled. "I'm sorry, I just can't do the video game thing. My ex tried to get me to do it once and I got too angry. All the stupid controls and the moving this thingy while pressing this button…and to get where? To do what? Nothing's accomplished."

"Well, okay… You're wrong, and that's allowed. It's okay. I won't judge you." She glared, unable to keep the grin off of her face. "But I'm depressed because I was there. I was there! And if you would've also been there…We would've met 4 years ago. And not a few weeks ago when you almost murdered me with your surfboard."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Just for the record, if you'd died it wouldn't have been murder. Manslaughter at the most, okay?"

That got him laughing.

But then her phone rang. Without realizing it, she'd moved a lot closer to him. And she took a step back now, blushing as she lifted her clutch. "I'm sorry. It's—Always off the hook, so to speak."

"You can take it if you'd like," he said. She caught him pull his wrist up and glance at his watch, a look of disappointment and reluctance crossing his face as he saw the time.

"No, that's okay. They can wait."

"Please, it's okay. Don't not answer on my account."

She gave him an apologetic look and pulled her phone out of her clutch, glancing at it. It was her mom. "It's not important," she said then, ending the call and putting the phone back away.

"And I am?" he asked, pressing his hand against his chest, feigning surprise.

"Well, let's put it like this. You're a lot more fun."

He grinned at her and it left her feeling disarmed. The grin left his face then as he glanced at his watch one more time. "Crap. Crap sandwich."

"What?" she asked, furrowing her brow and chuckling.

"Gah. Sorry. I have to get going. I said I'd meet this potential client for drinks in a half hour across town. I need this guy's sponsorship for a prototype we're developing and I wanna bend his ear. I-I have to go."

"Oh!" She felt the disappointment crashing through her but she kept it hidden, smiling at him. "I hope it's a fruitful meeting. For you and, uh, Nerd Tech." He chuckled at the teasing look on her face as she said the name of his company.

"Thank you, Sarah." Then he shuffled his feet a bit, looking extremely reluctant, like he'd rather stay where he was.

"It was nice to see you again, Chuck Bartowski. Glad your shoulder is better." She thrust a hand out and he took it eagerly, she noticed.

And while Sarah had half a mind to ask for his phone number, she thought that this was an even less likely path for her to take than if he'd merely been a regular guy like she'd thought at the beach that day. This was an apparently wealthy man who probably lived a life that was as busy as hers, if not busier. He had goals, dreams, priorities that were so completely different from hers. And there was no place for her in his life, just like there most likely wasn't a place for him in hers.

Especially since she was…well, who she was. Her moonlighting as a CIA spy aside… The publicity of him hanging around Supermodel Sarah Walker would either build up the Nerd Tech name or ruin its reputation to the point where it was unsalvageable. If the latter, she'd never forgive herself and he'd hate her. If the former…Well, she'd had enough of men she dated using her name as a stepping stone in their own careers. And she didn't want to know if Chuck Bartowski was that kind of guy. She wanted to think of him like this.

"I'm glad I saw you again, Sarah," he said, shaking her hand longer than was necessary. But she wouldn't pull away until he did.

And when he finally did, she fought back a sigh, merely fixing him with the most dazzling smile she had in her repertoire.

"Enjoy the rest of the party," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Hopefully I see you again sometime."

"I hope so," she replied. And she hoped so hard, even if it was dangerous. She belonged in her world with cameras flashing and fashion and men built like Adonis, who knew exactly just how hot they were. She didn't know if Chuck knew how hot he was, or if he knew that he was just as adorable as he was hot.

She knew for sure that he wouldn't mesh well with the mixture of the entertainment industry and Hollywood crowd she found herself in most of the time along with what she did in between modeling, the spying, the missions and field work. The CIA's untouchable secret weapon. Chuck was touchable. Very touchable. And with everything she had going on, with the danger of both of her existences, it just wasn't viable to hang around with a guy like him.

And that made her feel sadder than she was ready for.

Chuck looked at his watch again and sighed. He was really resisting going back inside, leaving for his meeting. And then he gave her a long look.

"Aren't you going to be late?" she asked quietly, exchanging an amused look with him. She realized just how aware they both were of why he was still standing here, mulling over the option of maybe staying instead of leaving, blowing off the other fellow.

There was an aching look in his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. Gah." He looked at his watch again.

He was seriously resisting.

And Sarah found herself doubling down on her decision to let this be. If she didn't think she, and her wildly different lifestyle and existence, would mess with his business before, she did now. He was toying with the idea of choosing to stay here with her over a meeting that sounded really, really important for whatever that prototype was Chuck needed this guy for. After only two conversations, he was struggling this much with walking away.

And she knew it would only get worse.

"Okay, I'm going." He nodded in determination. "I'm gonna go. I'll be late if I don't leave…literally right now."

But then he stepped back in front of her and slipped his hand into hers, squeezing gently. "Goodnight, Sarah Walker."

She squeezed back. "Goodnight, Chuck Bartowski. Nerd Company Guy."

That aching look was back on his face, and then he let go and took a step back. "You had to call me that. Damn it, I—"

"Chuck, for God's sake. You need that sponsorship, don't you?"

"I do. I do, you're right. Okay. I'm going. I'll—Gah…"

He marched across the veranda then and opened up the door to inside, then he turned back to look at her again, a long look, much too long. Before he let out one more groan, and disappeared.

Sarah felt a giddiness in her at just how effortlessly he let her see and feel how much he wanted to keep spending time with her out on this veranda. How close he was to calling off the meeting just to continue being with her for however long she'd stay outside.

And at the same time, that was exactly why she let him leave without them exchanging phone numbers.

It didn't matter anyway, because by the time she finished her thought, she knew he was probably already gone, on his way to that meeting with that potential sponsor.

Nerd Tech Inc.

She smiled a little and tilted her head back to look up at the moon, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Eventually, she had to go back inside.

For now, though, she stood there, tightening her grip on the cold stone, thinking about whether serendipity was a real thing, and whether or not it was following her around. Or perhaps it was following Chuck around and she was getting caught in it.

Either way, she liked it.

And she found herself wanting so badly for this not to have been the last time she saw him.

That wasn't fair, was it? Not wanting him to get caught up in her tabloid and paparazzi life, or in her spy life. But also wanting to see him again. But she couldn't help it. Something inside of her glowed when he looked at her, when he laughed at something she said.

It was ridiculous, she knew, but maybe that first meeting was what had done it. He hadn't recognized her. She'd been treated like a person—just another human being out on the beach. And even tonight when he discovered her full name and what she did for a living, that she was on magazine covers all the time, in semi-big budget action flicks, on the biggest runways in New York, Milan, Paris, LA… he still hadn't known her. It felt good. It felt so good being treated like any other person he might meet anywhere else. Instead of being worshipped, placed on some pedestal. Idolized.

She always thought back to one of the lower points in a relationship she'd been in when she was 21. He'd also been a model, they met at the same shoot, and he asked her out on a date. She'd accepted. Fast forward a few months into the relationship, magazines touting their relationship, fans clambering to call it true love and stamp it with an insane amount of importance when it was just a fun thing for both of them. They'd just finished having sex one night and he'd called her a goddess divine. She'd told him she was just a person, but he hadn't gotten the hint. And he'd gone on to tell her that he was afraid to touch her, for fear she might break under his hands, she was so "beautiful and delicate".

He couldn't have known a few days earlier, she'd kicked a Russian mobster off of a balcony while swiping intel with Casey. And even if she hadn't done that, being called "beautiful and delicate", told by her boyfriend he didn't want to touch her because she might break? It had felt…really bad. She'd been uncomfortable with him after that, whether fair or not.

Granted, that had also explained why the sex hadn't been very good.

Having sex with a guy who was afraid to break her if he touched her hadn't exactly been satisfying.

Sighing and shaking her head to get Wes Brandon out of her mind, with his modeling agency he'd established now thanks to his close proximity to one Sarah Walker—at least he got something out of the relationship even if she didn't—Sarah turned on her heel and went towards the door to go back she entered the room that didn't feel quite as oppressive as it had before when she'd first stepped outside over an hour ago now, Carlos Inez appeared at her side.

"There she is!"

"Oh. I'm sorry, I just stepped outside for a bit. Needed some fresh air." She gestured over her shoulder.

"I heard you'd be here but I didn't see you anywhere. Hiding?"

He gave her a look and she smirked, hugging him. "No, of course not. Especially not from you. How is Irma?"

"She's well. The car accident left her with a bit of back pain, but she is managing."

"I was sorry to hear about it, but glad she's on the mend." She couldn't help glancing around the room, as if he'd still be here. But she knew he was gone and she needed to stop this nonsense.

"How's Jack?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Um, he's just fine. You talk to him lately?"

"Yes, but it's been a few days. It's usually better when I don't hear from him for a while. You get it. And your mother?"

"Fine. Getting ready for retirement soon. Well, next five to ten years." She giggled. "Not that both of them have been living like they're retired for…well…most of my life." She couldn't help letting Carlos see the frustration in her face.

"Hey, give 'em a break, kid. You're always so hard on your ol' pop especially."

"I feel like I have reason," she groused at the old family lawyer.

Carlos Inez had been Jack Walker's right hand man for a while and he knew the ins and outs of the "family" business. The family business Sarah had been careful not to get involved in even though she was part of said family.

Carlos was a smart man and a hard worker, and he'd done his best to keep the rash, frankly criminal, Jack Walker in check as best he could, while trying to circumvent the respective rifts between Jack, Emma, and Sarah.

"Carlos! Oh there you are, Carlos!"

They both turned as Priscilla Renton slinked over.

"I have been trying to find you for hours, Carlos. You shouldn't hide from the host of the party like this," she chastised teasingly.

"I'm sorry, Priscilla. I was making the rounds."

"Oh, of course. Of course. I was trying to get you and another one of the guests in the same circle. Maybe get you another client. I'm always trying to make connections between my guests," she said, turning to Sarah and wrinkling her nose as she put a hand on Sarah's forearm. "You know, helping where I can!"

Sarah smiled politely and nodded.

"Well, who? Are they still here?" Carlos asked. The man was all business all the time. One of the biggest lawyers in Hollywood and he still wanted more. She couldn't help but respect him a little for it.

Priscilla frowned. "Well, he's already left. He made his apologies, gave me his check, and left. Thought it was rather polite of him to find me and thank me. People don't do thet much these days. Just slink out the side door, you know…"

"Who, Priscilla?" Carlos pressed politely.

"Oh, what's his name? I invited him and I can't remember his name. Oh my God, you must think I'm so rude," she directed at Sarah, who merely shook her head. Priscilla then framed her face with her hands, thinking hard. "Charles. And then it's a Polish name. Brakoski?"

Carlos's eyes widened. "Do you mean to tell me Charles Bartowski was here and I didn't even know it?" he asked. The tone of his voice, and the awe she heard there made Sarah double take. "Nerd Tech Incorporated CEO Charles Bartowski?"

"That's his name! Yes! He was here. Very sweet young man."

"Sweet? The man is…your age, Sarah…and he's already got a stronghold on the entire tech world. He's a genius. There's no way I'm going to be getting him as a client, Priscilla, but it was kind of you to want to try," he chuckled.

"Well, why not?" Priscilla asked. "Everyone needs a good lawyer."

"He doesn't need me," Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. Sarah watched the conversation in fascination, and he must have noticed because he turned to her. "Did you see him tonight?"

"See…him?" Sarah asked, and then she shook her head. "I don't think so. At least I wouldn't know him if I saw him, I'm not sure who you two are even talking about, honestly."

She felt bad even saying it. She'd just spent the best part of the last 45 minutes talking to him outside. But it just felt like something she wanted to keep for herself. She didn't know why.

Carlos gaped at her, and then he shrugged. "Well, you don't exactly run in the same circles. Actually the opposite, really." He shook his head. "I would've loved to at least talk to him, though. Get a taste of the kind of man he is."

"He's a good man," Priscilla said. "You should see how many zeroes he wrote on that check he left for our cancer society fund. And so unassuming. That's so rare these days, you know."

"Unassuming?" Carlos chuckled. "He handed you the check, didn't he?"

"Oh, no, it was anonymous. Well, he thought it was. Between us, it's never as anonymous as the donors think," she said with a wink. "Anyway, there are a lot of people here with a lot of money, but nobody with his kind of money ever leaves that much. It's the way the world works."

Carlos Inez nodded sagely. "That's true. Eh, Sarah?" He nudged her and she chuckled because it was the polite thing to do, but she was left in a bit of a fog, honestly.

Priscilla excused herself and hurried after another guest, probably to squeak a donation out of them, not that Sarah begrudged her at all. It was for a cancer society fund, after all.

"You know, I'm not surprised," Carlos muttered to her as he checked his watch. "It's all I ever hear about him and NTI. Bartowski, I mean. He runs a tight ship but his employees—top to bottom—admire the hell out of him. Good wages, good benefits. Like I said, the kid doesn't need me."

"What you're saying is he isn't going to run afoul of the law, the way guys like my dad have," Sarah mumbled to be sure only he heard.

"In not so many words, Sarah."

Intrigued—and that was putting it lightly—Sarah finally excused herself, kissing Carlos on the cheek, before moving further into the fray. Now she had a bit of extra information on the man she ran over in the Pacific Ocean a few weeks earlier, and it seemed the more she learned about him, the more impressive he became.

She found herself hoping he didn't try to learn more about her, for fear she'd disappoint. He'd find a lot of tabloid bullshit about her relationships, her break-ups, her partying in her late teens and early twenties, the mistakes she'd made that were blasted all over the worst rags and some of the better rags, too. He'd meet all of her boyfriends and the guys they said were her boyfriends. He'd learn all about them. He'd see the photo of her kissing a duke—that had been made into such a big deal, and it had only been one damn kiss and not even a good one.

It was for the best.

A guy who ran his business with a lot of integrity apparently, who was admired by his peers and employees alike, wasn't going to want to mess around with a woman like Sarah Walker, supermodel and tabloid sweetheart.

Sarah allowed herself to fall into a circle of fellow guests, engaging in conversation and doing her best to nudge Chuck Bartowski, CEO of Nerd Tech Incorporated, out of her mind.


Thanks for reading. We'll see where this goes.

SarahsSupplyCloset