“Hey.” His rich, tenor voice resonated like an Irish Andrea Bocelli.
“Hey.”
“It’s good to see you again.”
“You too.”
The man extended his right hand. “I’m Logan. Remember me?”
Michelle paused, willing her heart to be still. “Yes.”
She didn’t shake his hand. He looked embarrassed and withdrew his. He glanced at the two people in line then returned his gaze to Michelle. “Did you eat yet? How about I treat you to lunch?”
Michelle’s heart fluttered. She paused again. Logan raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry, Logan. I’m working.”
“Aw, come on, even working girls got to eat.”
Michelle chuckled. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. He was really cute. And nice. “Sure. You can join me for lunch, but I can buy my own food.”
Logan shrugged. “Okay.”
Michelle picked up her purse, stood, and followed Logan to the ordering counter. He placed his order and paid for it. But when Michelle tried to pay for hers, the cashier paused and looked at Michelle with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but your card was declined.”
Michelle’s cheeks warmed. Before she could reach in her purse for another card, Logan stepped in. He flashed her an easy smile and paid for her meal in cash.
Too embarrassed to speak, Michelle slipped her card back into her wallet and gripped her purse as she followed Logan to the pickup line.
“So, Michelle, are you always here on Sundays? I thought for sure that you’d be here only during the weekdays.”
“Yes. I’m here just about every day or night.”
Logan raised both of his eyebrows. “Is this your office?”
“You could say that.”
The server placed their orders on the counter. Michelle reached for her French toast bagel with honey walnut cream cheese, and Logan grabbed his order of a grilled cheese sandwich with a half bowl of tomato soup. Together, they walked to the nearest booth.
Logan allowed Michelle to settle in, then he placed his food on the table and sat in in the chair across from her. “So, what are you working on today?”
“A blog post.”
Logan bit into his sandwich. “Cool. About what?”
“I’m looking for models for a photo shoot I’m staging.”
Logan nodded as he took another bite of his sandwich and swallowed. “What’s that like?”
“I’m trying to train aspiring photographers how to shoot a couple’s engagement session.”
Logan nodded and took another big bite of his sandwich, which was half gone.
“Who are the couples?”
Michelle paused. She poked at her untouched bagel.
Logan chuckled. “You should eat. We can talk when you’re done.”
His words warmed her heart. It wasn’t every day that a guy spending time with her just about read her mind. She smiled. “Thanks.” She reached for her bagel and spread the cream cheese on it. She bit into it and closed her eyes, savoring the perfect medley of flavors.
It wasn’t until she’d consumed the entire bagel that she locked eyes with Logan and her cheeks warmed. He’d been staring at her, and his eyes twinkled like stars in the midnight sky. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Was he laughing at her?
Logan pointed to the corner of her lips. “You, you have something there.”
She had food on her mouth while eating in front of him? If only the tiled floor would open up and swallow her whole.
She grabbed a napkin and wiped her full mouth. She gazed at him for approval. Logan chuckled, picked up a clean paper napkin, and reached across the table. He wiped the upper left side of her mouth, just above her lips. Lips that she was suddenly grateful were coated in pink lipstick today, the kind that lasts twenty-four hours. His touch was gentle and swift. Her heart fluttered.
Logan withdrew the napkin and crumbled it. “There.”
“Thanks.”
“Tell me more about this photo shoot.”
Michelle noted that she was not the only one with a clean plate. She focused on Logan.
“I’m meeting aspiring photographers on location to teach them how to pose couples and take their pictures outdoors using natural light.”
“How do you find couples?”
“Everywhere. I’m a talent scout. I’ll walk up to people who look like models, introduce myself, tell them what I’m doing, and see if they agree. I also draw from my pool of clients.”
“Do you do headshot sessions too?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’m looking for a photographer to take some for my professional social media. Do you think I’m photogenic?” He tilted his head.
Michelle chuckled.
“So, can we set this up?”
Michelle sipped her water. “What?”
“You know, set up a shoot. I’d like for you to be my photographer. That is, if you’re not too busy.”
Her heart said “yes” to working with him but her head and all of her insecurities said “no”. “I, uh…I…”
He reached in his pocket, retrieved his business card, and handed it to her. “Think about it, and when you’re ready, call me.” He glanced at his watch, stood, and stacked Michelle’s empty tray on top of his. “I’ve got to run—literally. But I hope to see you again, sometime soon.”
“Me too,” she squeaked.
Logan picked up the trays and headed in the direction of the trash bins.
Michelle leaned on the table, rubbed her temples, and cast her gaze heavenward. Dear God, what am I getting myself into? Please don’t let me mess this up.
Her gaze rested on the business card, and she picked it up. Hmm, he worked for a newspaper. She could always call him to take him up on his offer. After all, she was more experienced with doing headshots than she was with dating. This would be an easy job and a great way to get to know him better.
She brushed her thoughts about Logan aside and pulled her laptop closer. She needed to finish the blog post. Calling Logan would happen later.
Maybe.
Chapter 3
Michelle worked out to her favorite Pilates video in the comfort of her parents’ home. She drank in the peace and solitude like her favorite pineapple smoothie. Living with her parents allowed her to save money toward her own place, but she craved these moments alone.
Just as she finished her workout and completed her cool-down routine of full body stretches, the blare of the house alarm interrupted her peace.
Her pulse quickened.
Her brother, Marcel, walked into the family room. Michelle huffed and glared at her older brother. “You scared me! Did you forget the code?”
He gave a sheepish shrug.
She rushed to the nearby laundry room and punched in the code then breathed a sigh of relief as quiet returned to the house. As she returned to the family room, she shook her head at him.
“What? Just because I got married and moved out doesn’t mean I can't visit, right?”
Michelle folded her arms and quirked an eyebrow. “Right.”
Marcel tossed his keys on to the kitchen counter and opened the refrigerator. “When are you moving out?”
Michelle rubbed her temples. Her work out was over, but she was not in a conversational mood. She turned off the TV. “When I get the money to afford my own place.”
Marcel raised an eyebrow. “You creative types never have money. You should have become a doctor like me.” He took a swig of the orange juice straight from the bottle.
Michelle’s eyes widened. “Does your wife allow you to do that?”
He set the bottle down and opened his hands. “What? It’s almost empty.”
Michelle tsked. She came and sat on a kitchen stool. “Some things never change.”
Marcel harrumphed. “Yeah, like my pretty sister who at the age of twenty-nine is still single and living at home.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s mean.”
> “It’s the truth.” Marcel glanced at her open notebook computer on the kitchen table. He sat in the chair in front of it and scrolled through.
Logan’s LinkedIn profile. Michelle gasped and rushed to Marcel’s side. No need for him to see that she was internet stalking Logan. “Nosy, aren’t we?”
She reached to close her computer, but Marcel stopped her. “Who’s he?”
Heat rose to her cheeks. “Nobody.”
He picked up the business card on the kitchen table next to Michelle’s computer. He read it then smirked. “A nobody whose business card just happens to be here too?”
Michelle pulled at her ponytail. She avoided Marcel’s intense stare.
“Yes. I mean no. I mean, it’s none of your business.” She slammed her computer shut, swiped it from Marcel, clutched it to her chest, and stared at her brother. He glared at her as if she had done something wrong.
“Are you dating him?”
“Dating?”
“Yes, sis. Are you dating that white guy?”
Michelle steeled. “That’s none of your business.”
Marcel rose out of his chair. “As your brother, I’d say it is my business. What did I tell you about those guys? They’re no good for you.”
Michelle raised her chin. “Why not?”
“History, Michelle. You know what those white slave masters did to the black female slaves. After all they put us through, you are dating one of them?”
Michelle’s lower lip quivered. “It’s time for you to leave.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Marcel shook his head. “Yeah.” He grabbed his keys and paused, looking at Michelle. “Don’t do it, sis. It’s not worth it.”
He grabbed some food from the refrigerator, stuffed it into the grocery bag he’d brought with him, and walked to the front door. Michelle didn’t move until she heard him exit the house, then she went to the door. Her hands shook and she fought back tears as she punched in the code to turn the alarm on. If her own brother thought this way, what would strangers think? It was a level of hatred and ignorance that she was not ready to face.
She returned to the kitchen and set her computer on the table. She stared at Logan’s business card. She reached for it, tempted to tear it up, but then stopped. Logan was nice. He didn’t mean any harm. Maybe she would do the photo shoot for him and then cut off all communication. After all, he’d paid for her lunch. She owed him a favor.
Didn’t she?
Chapter 4
Michelle tapped the letters on her cellphone. Her hands shook so much, she dropped her phone twice. She reached for a tissue and rubbed her phone gently. She was lucky that it didn’t break and was still working. Thank God for protective covers.
She glanced around her studio. No one else was here to witness her fall apart. She took a deep breath. Calm down girl. It’s just a photo shoot. You’ve done hundreds of these since starting your photography business. You’ve got this.
Michelle put her phone down on her workstation desk and rubbed her throbbing temple. It wasn’t every day that she agreed to photograph a client who expressed interest in dating her. Correction. She never mixed business with pleasure, so this was the first and probably the last time she’d allow her heart to make a decision that could affect her work. Heat rose to her face. She would do the headshot photo shoot and play this by ear. Even if she decided not to date Logan, they could be friends.
The text alert sound jolted her out of her thoughts and turned her attention to her workstation. She picked up the phone and sighed. Juliana. Thank God. She could calm her down.
Juliana: What’s good, amiga?
Michelle: Pray for me.
Juliana: Why?
Michelle: Just pray.
Juliana: Oh, is this about that guy from the café? Are you two going on a date?
Michelle: Not really. More like a photo shoot.
Juliana sent an excited emoji. How fun! Where?
Michelle: My studio.
Juliana: Amiga, I know just how to help you.
Michelle: Please do.
After a minute of silence from Juliana, Michelle glanced at her watch. Juliana never took more than five seconds to write a reply. She frowned.
Michelle: Jules?
Juliana: I’ve got you, amiga. Sorry. Tied up at work. We’ll chat soon! Prayers up!
Michelle closed her eyes, inhaled a deep breath, and slowly let it out. She sent up a silent prayer of her own. It was just a photo shoot, a professional headshot session that only took fifteen minutes. This was not a big deal. It was not a date. She turned her attention to adjusting the lighting in her studio and glanced at the clock on her wall. Five minutes to noon. Logan would be here soon.
~*~
Logan enjoyed the beautiful, bright, sunny day and the salty scent of fresh bay water in the air as he strolled from the parking lot to the studio like a man going on a GQ photo shoot. This session with Michelle could be the start of a beautiful friendship and hopefully something more as he geared up the nerve to ask her out.
So far, the location and exterior decoration impressed him. The place was in the heart of Annapolis. A coffee shop and a bookstore sandwiched her studio. Above the door was a canary-yellow sign with pink, bold letters that announced Love in Pictures.
Logan reached for the knob and opened the door. The subtle scent of vanilla wafted to his nose. The studio itself was clean, orderly, professional looking, and had a very feminine touch in its décor.
He stood at the receptionist desk but saw no one. Neither could he locate a bell, a speakerphone, anything to let Michelle know he was here. Just as he turned to search for a doorbell, a few words stilled him.
“Good afternoon, Logan.”
The soft and familiar sound of Michelle’s voice soothed his nerves. He turned to face her and smiled. A pink skirt, yellow top, and yellow heels set off her raven-black hair that framed her face and fell to her shoulders. He cleared his throat. “Good afternoon.”
She curved her rose-pink painted lips upward in a sweet smile. “Are you ready for your session?”
“I was born ready.”
Michelle giggled. “I bet you were.” She stepped aside and gestured to him. “Follow me.”
He obeyed orders, walking behind her as she led him through the lobby, down the corridor, and into a room with various pieces of lighting equipment. He only recognized the incandescent lights from the popular news studio he visited in downtown Washington, D.C.
“I’ll take your jacket.”
Michelle’s words knocked him out of his train of thought. He took off his suitcoat and handed it to her.
“Have a seat here, please. I need to do your makeup.”
Logan raised his eyebrows.
She laughed. “I’m only applying foundation to keep your skin looking even and flawless under the lighting.”
Logan sat and tapped his right foot on the floor.
That familiar blush rose to Michelle’s hazelnut-toned face again. He caught a glimpse of her smile as she turned away. When she turned back, she was all business.
He cleared his throat as he mustered the courage to carry on a normal conversation. “Do you do makeup for all of your clients?”
“Mainly just for the guys who want headshots. The ladies usually come with theirs already done.”
“Ah, I see.”
She stepped back and studied Logan’s face as if she was determining whether her work was finished. She nodded and put the compact and brush away. “All done.” She handed him a mirror.
He peered at his reflection and was impressed by her work. She’d even managed to conceal a pimple below his chin. This lady was a pro.
“Shall we?”
He rose and followed her across the room to a black stool in front of what looked like a green screen but had a black curtain as the backdrop. She turned on the lights and adjusted it for the perfect glow.
“Sit down, please.”
He seated himself and swiveled until he f
aced Michelle, who had stepped behind what looked like a DSLR camera positioned on a tripod.
“We’re going to take a few photos with you sitting, and we’ll take the rest with you standing with your back to the black curtain.”
Michelle held up three fingers. “Starting on the count of three. Smile for me.”
Logan flashed his best grin, glad that he just went to the dentist this morning.
The photo shoot progressed like clockwork, and before Logan knew it, they were done. Michelle stepped from behind her camera. “Great work. You’re a natural.”
“I could say the same about you.” He tapped his foot and cleared his throat. She scrunched her forehead. Well, it was now or never. “Hey, w-w-w-would.”
His face heated. His nerves had triggered his stuttering. He’d hoped to hide his speech impediment from her, but it always showed up in situations like these. It was the number one reason why the producers at that station in D.C. wouldn’t hire him as on-air talent.
He gazed to the ground. He never should have come. When he mustered up the courage to resume eye contact, he found Michelle studying him, her eyes and face soft.
She touched his arm. “Everything okay?”
Logan nodded. “Y-y-yes.” He glanced at his watch on his left wrist, trying to buy time to regain control over his speech. Her touch was soft and gentle. It was like she wanted to help him and be there for him. But now was not the time to talk. He sidestepped and willed his words to flow. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for the photo shoot.”
Michelle broke contact with him. “Okay, thanks for being my client.”
Logan finger-combed his hair and glanced around. Where was the exit?
“Follow me. I’ll show you the way out.”
Five minutes later, Logan sat in his car and hit his steering wheel. Why did his stuttering show up at the most inconvenient times? It kept him from getting a job at the TV station, and it was keeping him from asking out Michelle.
Love in Pictures Page 2
