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“There’s a lighter on that shelf.” Sawyer nodded at the spot. “Everything ready in there?”
“Lights and set anyway. Bianca went after Angela and Joey.”
“They won’t know what hit them.”
“No kidding. She’s something else.” They shared a smile that felt comfortable, so he pushed a little. “She thinks you should hire me to give you more free time.”
“She does, does she?” She tilted her head at him.
“I think she’s right.”
“You do?”
“I’ll make your life easier, I swear.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said, searching him out, prying, asking him about the heat simmering between them. He knew what she meant, but he had a job to do. He had to keep her guessing for a while, at least.
“Hire me,” he said with a wink. “You know we both want it.”
He watched a tremor pass through her and felt an answering quiver in his own limbs. Get a grip. He felt so rusty at this flirting thing. He’d been kind of isolated lately. His wife hunt had been going way, way slow.
Or maybe it was something about Samantha.
Probably being undercover. He hated undercover.
Samantha watched Rick go back to Bianca, admiring his muscular behind in well-worn jeans. He’d flirted with her. At least that. But he also wanted the job. How about the job and dessert?
She could hardly date an employee. Assistant by day, fantasy man by night? Too weird, even for Samantha the Bold. Rick was either her assistant or her date, not both, and the next two hours would tell her which.
She said goodbye to Misty and sent her off to change, warmed by her parting words: This means more than you know, Samantha. Even if Tony doesn’t change, I’ll never see myself the same again. Mission accomplished. Samantha was thrilled.
In studio two, however, things weren’t going so well. The newlyweds, sitting on opposite ends of the chaise, looked miserable. Joey slumped, fully clothed, hanging his head like he awaited a prostate check. Angela sulked in a red lace teddy, arms folded, legs crossed, foot wagging angrily.
Bianca flung up her arms. “I give up, Sammi!”
“Joey’s ruining everything,” Angela cried.
“I’m not taking off my pants,” Joey said. “I am no fag.”
“Don’t say fag,” Angela said. “Being gay is perfectly okay. Have some respect.”
“You have some respect and don’t make me into a fool.”
Angela bickered back, but Rick cut through her words in a take-charge voice. “Just do it, man.”
Everyone stared.
“Look, if your lady wants a shot of you in a bird suit with feathers sticking out your ass, put on the damned suit. Hell, if it makes her happy, cluck a little.”
There was a pause, then Bianca spoke into the stunned silence. “Well said, Rick. Wasn’t that well said, Sammi?”
“I’ve seen her work,” Rick continued. “You’ll look good.”
She could almost read Joey’s mind. If this guy thinks it’s not gay… “Okay…but just the shirt.”
“But I like those boxers,” Angela whined.
“The shirt’s enough,” Samantha said, deciding to go with a simple clinch and just two positions, not her usual six. She’d use the digital, which hung from her neck, and move the camera, not the couple, to maintain Joey’s tentative goodwill. “Angela and Joey, find a comfortable position lying down. Bianca, you’ve done all you can. How about you wait in the lobby for us?”
“Whatever you say, hon,” Bianca said. “Smile nice, you two.”
While Joey uneasily unbuttoned his shirt, Samantha hit the CD player’s remote, filling the room with soft music. “Grab that stepladder,” she said to Rick, winking at him as a thank-you for getting Joey’s cooperation.
“Whatever you need,” he said, winking back. There was that snap of heat between them again, that tug of man-woman connection and her embarrassment from earlier was completely erased.
Rick braced the ladder while she climbed. She felt his eyes on her body, was aware of the strength and warmth of his arms almost touching her thighs. It was a good thing he held the ladder or she’d have wobbled right off the rung.
To steady herself, she focused in on her subjects, lying hopelessly tense on the chaise beneath her.
“Look into Angela’s eyes, Joey, and forget we’re here,” she said in the low, even register that worked best with self-conscious clients. “Let Angela be all you see.”
“This is so lame,” Joey said.
Angela grabbed the back of his hair.
“Ouch. Okay, okay.”
“Won’t you miss me?” Angela asked in a little girl’s voice.
“Sure I’ll miss you, baby,” he said slowly.
“Like the moon?” she coaxed. “And all the stars?”
Sweetness softened Joey’s hard features. “Every friggin’ twinkle,” he said, sinking into the rhythm of what must be a lover’s ritual they shared. He leaned down and kissed her.
Samantha sighed. She loved when couples got tender with each other.
“This is all you’ll have of me while you’re gone,” Angela murmured, holding Joey’s gaze.
“Yeah,” he said, getting into it now. “So it has to be good. It has to last.”
Samantha took a shot. Perfect. When she shifted, she accidentally bumped Rick’s forearm, remembering he was there, which was strangely reassuring, even as it put her on sexual alert. After a few more snaps, she needed to get down the ladder to try for some shots from beside the couple.
She turned toward Rick, signaling her descent, and he moved slightly. Her butt brushed his chest as she lowered herself, and, once on the ground, she turned, hesitating in the cave of his arms.
He struggled, too, for a moment, and almost seemed to force himself to step away from her. Whatever was percolating here was definitely mutual. She took a shuddering breath and went to crouch beside the couple.
She looked up at them, framing their faces between their forearms. Nice shot.
Rick moved to the Hasselblad and in a few seconds, he snapped a picture, setting off the strobe. She smiled her approval. She’d have two camera perspectives after all. Twice the photos in the five minutes they had before Joey lost interest.
“Imagine you’re saying goodbye,” she said to pull a little more emotion from the couple.
Angela pulled Joey in for a kiss.
“Baby,” Joey murmured.
Click. Perfect. Samantha looked over at Rick, who’d fired off more frames, and they smiled at each other. They’d made the most of a delicate moment, working as a team, in wordless sync. Which was surprising considering they were virtual strangers. Rick had potential as an assistant.
But what about as a dinner partner?
She watched her couple, moved by the way Joey cupped Angela’s cheeks with his entire palms, as if he couldn’t touch enough of her, and how Angela pointed her toes between Joey’s feet, utterly thrilled to be in his arms.
Samantha wanted this intimacy, too. Eventually. After she’d been wild and free and wanton for a while. She would know when she was ready. In a couple of years. Maybe three. She had a lot of fantasies to live out.
She caught Rick looking at her. He seemed puzzled, as if she’d somehow surprised him. What was that about?
“Maybe we should go for a different position,” Joey said. “Move around, try some poses, mix it up?”
In the end, Samantha had to stop him before he asked for a wind machine and baby oil to make his muscles gleam.
She loaded the digitals on the computer, invoked the slide show and stepped back so the couple could admire themselves in peace. Rick stood beside her, looking on, too. She glanced at his profile, with its straight, masculine lines. He was deliciously male.
She could picture him with her on the big bed in the fairy-tale studio. She would pretend to be asleep. He would wake her with a kiss. Or maybe they’d be on the tiger chaise in this studio…her hands tied with a red silk sash…no, the black velvet one. Please…don’t…stop…. More…more…
“And bigger. More and bigger, right?”
Samantha jerked back to the moment. “Bigger? Huh?”
“And matte, not glossy,” Angela said. She meant print size, quantity and finish, Samantha realized. Whew.
All three people were staring at her. Hell, she’d lapsed into a fantasy in the middle of a shoot. It was Rick’s fault. He was the living embodiment of her fantasy man standing right here beside her, so broad and tall and handsome.
And he wanted her to hire him.
This could be a problem. Or a gift. He could help her in the studio and the bedroom.
“Many clients prefer matte,” she said, but she had to clear her throat to get out the words. “Less glare, but it’s up to you.” She babbled on about the proof book and the order, but she was thinking about Rick.
Could he want more than the job? He seemed mysterious to her. Which was partly why he was so hot. He could be anyone she wanted him to be.
Bedroom Eyes was the most important thing to her, right, and he could be a good assistant. She hadn’t counted on photography experience in her employee, but it could only help. Maybe she should give him the job and forget dessert altogether.
She and Rick walked the couple out to Bianca. Joey and Angela strolled arm in arm, looking at each other every few seconds as if they couldn’t believe their luck. Like a bride and groom faltering in the middle of their vows, awed by the power of their symbolic act, appreciating each other anew.
Samantha was so glad she’d given them this reminder of their love. Maybe couple shots were the best of all.
The clients gone, Samantha turned to Rick. “So what do you think?” she asked, knowing his words would tell her what to do.
“I’m impressed. You got those two from divorce court to a Hallmark card in two minutes flat. The digitals were great.”
“The prints will be better. I combine flash with tungsten so the golden highlights are warm, not cloying.”
“It’s more than the lights, Samantha. You have a gift.”
He wasn’t about to let her hide behind her gear. She liked that.
“There’s a lot you can teach me.” He stood a little closer, drawing her out, stretching the tension between them like a fine, tight wire.
There was a lot he could teach her, she’d bet. Naked. “You did a good job of getting Joey to cooperate.”
“Probably would help you to have a man around for that,” he coaxed.
“We did have a nice rhythm going.”
“Yeah. A nice rhythm.” And heat. They had heat going. His irises flickered with gold—candles shining out of all that green moss—telling her he wanted her.
Her knees turned to flan.
“It’s mostly clerical, Rick. Really. You might have to clean out drains and change AC filters for my tenants.”
“I don’t mind. Like I said, anything you—”
“Need. Right. You said that.” She held his gaze, her knees of flan jiggling beneath her.
“And I meant it.”
Did he really? Could he possibly? Could they work together and sleep together? Insane idea or time-saver?
“Okay. We try it for a week,” she said, trying to be firmer than her custard knees. “But if it doesn’t work out—”
“It’ll work out.” His eyes burned through her. He looked dark and dangerous, with stubble just emerging from his firm jaw, and he was so big. He’d have to bend down to kiss her, even if she went on tiptoe, and when he wrapped her in his arms, she’d be overpowered, overwhelmed, swept away.
“How can you be so sure?” she breathed.
“I am. Trust me.”
“We give it a week,” she said firmly, showing him who was boss. But there was a flicker of something in his green eyes that made her think that maybe she wasn’t quite as in charge as she should be.
3
SCORE. HE WAS IN. He had the job.
Of course, he’d practically sworn to be Sawyer’s love slave with the looks and dripping hints he’d delivered. The worst part was that it had come out so easily. Like butter, like cream, like sliding into bed with a hot, hungry woman.
Something about her dug at him—the yes-no vibe she gave off. Flirting, then backing away, as if she’d stepped too far out on a tightrope on a dare.
He wanted to reassure her. Yeah, you’re hot. Yeah, I’d jump you if I could.
