“I’m going part-time, so at this pace, it may take another two years.” His voice carries an edge of frustration.
We reach the open door to my studio and enter. “Why? How long have you been going?” By the tone of his previous answer and some quick math, I suspect he’s easily over twenty-one.
His jaw twitches and instead of answering, he places the backpack on the floor and glances around. “This is an amazing space. I meant to say something upstairs. You have a beautiful home.”
Clever. I wonder why he sidestepped my question and what’s causing his angst. “Thanks. But it’s a little big for just me.”
His expression changes to surprise. “Just you? You’re not married?”
My smile wavers and suddenly feels pasted on. “Not anymore. My husband died two years ago. And before you ask, we didn’t have any kids.” I prefer to blurt it all out at once to shut down any remaining questions. It’s not so much that it upsets me to speak of Robert, but rather it upsets other people when I don’t react as if it does.
Pain shoots through his eyes and he lays his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss. That must’ve been difficult.” His empathy surrounds me, and right then, I know he’s lost someone, too.
I start to ask him who it was, but stop. I don’t know him well enough to pry. So I clear my throat. “Thank you, but it’s okay, really.”
“So I don’t put my foot in my mouth again, what now?” He steps back and looks over at where the lights are set up. The room is large and divided into three areas: a photo studio, my old office, and a work area with a long table and floor-to-ceiling shelving along the back wall. I let go of my dark room, now a storage area, with the advent of high-tech digital cameras.
“Why don’t we talk through the shoot before we start?” I point toward a small modern table and two chairs set up next to the desk in my office area.
We amble over and he takes the seat next to me. The release form he needs to sign is in a colorful folder on the table in front of us.
“What time do you need to leave?” I ask, getting down to business.
“If I leave by five, I’ll make it in time for class at six-thirty.”
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I chew my lip. “Would you be able to come back tomorrow if we don’t finish today? I’m thinking this is going to take closer to three hours.”
His eyebrows fly up. “That long?”
I chuckle. “Don’t look so surprised. Professional models have it much worse. I’ll try not to make it too painful. Sometimes it takes hundreds of shots to get just a few.”
He crosses his arms in front him, amused. “Who knew? And I thought sitting for a portrait was bad.”
My interest piques. “Who did you sit for?”
He loses his smile and looks away. I’m left to gaze at his chiseled profile.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” I suppress the urge to touch him. Whoever it was is tied to his loss. I sense his pain cuts through him deeply; the clarity leaves me breathless, because I recognize his reactions as my own. I can only hope that his number of losses doesn’t equal mine.
He sweeps a hand over his face and looks back at me. “No,” he says softly. “You didn’t pry. Don’t be sorry. It’s all me.” He touches my hand and my heart rate rises. His palm is callused but warm. There is no mistaking he uses his hands for work. His blue eyes pull at me, daring me to drown inside them.
He slides his hand away slowly and folds it with his other in front of him. “Tell me about your book. Who am I supposed to be?”
I take a breath and move on to somewhat safer ground. “I’m writing a contemporary romantic suspense about two twenty-something adults, Becca and Drew. They were high school sweethearts. Becca thinks Drew is dead until she runs into him five years later . . . and the intrigue begins from there.”
“So I’m the dead boyfriend Drew, who’s really alive?” he asks, smirking. The moment I hear his words I get a strong sense of déjà vu. That’s exactly who he is . . . in more ways than one.
“Um . . . Yes.”
He shrugs. “Okay. But please tell me this guy doesn’t turn out to be a total jerk. I’m not sure I want to lend my likeness to an asshole.”
I laugh. “No, he’s not an asshole. I loved him.” I don’t realize what I’ve said until the words pass through my lips and it’s too late to take them back.
Raine’s eyebrows lift. “Loved? Is he a real person?”
My smile disappears. God, what a pair we make. “He’s just a character,” I lie.
His eyes bore into me and he leans forward, his mouth twisting up into a very sexy smile. “You’re lying.”
I’ll be damned. He just called me out. Instead of being angry, I’m amused. I lean toward him. “I’ll make you a deal. If we become friends, we’ll trade secrets over a bottle of wine one night because I’m not the only one at this table who has them.”
Tension sits between us for a moment then he leans back. “Look at you. Observant. It’s a deal.” He brings his fist up and offers it to me. I laugh and fist-bump him. Just like that, the tension leaves the room.
“Okay, let’s get this going.” I pull the folder toward me and open it. “These are a bunch of covers I printed off to give you an idea of what I’m trying to create.”
He flips through them with interest, his brows knitting in concentration with the same look he wore when I opened the door and found him on my porch. “I like these. I can help you make the book cover when you have the picture you want. When I’m not landscaping, I freelance doing websites and graphic design.”
Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “I might take you up on that.” I glance at the clock and slap the table. “Let’s take some pictures.”
“You got it.” He rises and so do I.
We decide to start with him dressed as he is. I show him where I want him to stand. I’ve already marked the spot with an X of masking tape. After I position the lights, I walk up to him. I realize I could have just asked him to do what I’m about to do, but I hunger for contact.
“One more thing.” I reach around to the back of his neck. “May I?”
My breaths get shallow a moment before his Adam’s apple rises quickly and falls. Does he feel it, too?
Our eyes meet. “Whatever turns you on . . . Jillian.” He adds my name like he’s taking it out for a test drive.
More than you know. I tug the elastic and free his hair so that it cascades down around his shoulders. The resemblance floors me, and I suck in a breath.
I turn my back to hide my blush, and grab my camera. “Let me know if you want some music on.”
“I’m good for now.”
When I turn around to face him, the camera provides a protective layer between us. Through the lens, I study him unguardedly, and allow myself to create a slightly altered vision of reality. One that still includes Drew. In a way, photography is not so different from writing a novel. “When you look at the camera think about . . . .” The obvious. “Your girlfriend.”
He gives the lens a seductive stare. “Don’t have one right now.”
My heart flutters. “Then pretend the camera is your lover.”
And he does, because if he wasn’t pretending, he could’ve fooled me. Thirty minutes in, I’m longing to drown in his kiss. His packaging is one thing, but his expressions are riveting.
He takes off his shirt for the next set of pictures, and I turn on the fan for a wind effect. I have to do everything in my power not to drool. Gazing through the lens, I help it caress every muscled peak and valley that covers his naked torso. His chest is smooth and hairless, with the barest hint of blond hair under his arms. I wonder if that’s his natural state or if he does something to maintain it. We take another fifteen minutes’ worth of shots.
“Have you ever thought about doing this for a living?” I ask, through the continuous snapping of the camera shutter.
He flips his hair and smiles for the camera. “Nope. I’ve got bigge
r fish to fry.”
“The camera loves you.”
His smile falters. “Thanks.”
My cell phone rings on the table. I stop shooting. “I have to take that.”
I dash over to answer it.
“Hi, Aunt Jill, I’m upstairs. Can you let me in?”
Disappointment rolls through me. “Be right there, Pumpkin.” I run over and snap off the fan.
“Pumpkin?” Raine grins.
I give him a tight smile and head for the door. “My niece. She’s upstairs. I hope you don’t mind, but I asked her to come and help us. I need a few shots with her back to the camera in case I go with both Becca and Drew.”
As I pass over the threshold, I add, “Oh, and you can put your shirt on.” I’m not sure if I want him covered because I don’t want Jenny to get an eyeful or because I don’t want to share him. On the page, the idea of Drew is something I can deal with. But the living, breathing facsimile—Raine with an e—makes me wish for more than I deserve. Another chance.
As I head upstairs, reality hits the center of my chest, awakening a thread of grief buried deep inside me. My foot almost misses the top stair. I couldn’t see it through the haze of tears threatening to break free.
Chapter 7
Raine
JILLIAN DISAPPEARS through the doorway, and I put my shirt back on.
I like her . . . a lot. As sorry as I am for her loss, I almost fist-pumped the air when I found out she was single. There’s something about her. I don’t know, but whatever it is, I feel a connection. A spark. Different than when I first met Vanessa. Better. Maybe it’s because Jillian lost someone she loves, or maybe it’s because she’s older.
I’ll admit it. I get a charge from seeing the interest in her eyes when I speak. And when she throws admiring glances my way, a fire lights in my gut, because I don’t think she realizes she’s doing it. My only question is: Is it me she’s seeing or this guy Drew?
I rake a hand through my hair, and frown. For all I know, it could be my imagination on overdrive. This thing with Vanessa is still too raw for me to be a good judge. It’s left behind a big dent in my ego and more self-doubt than usual. That said, I stop short of thinking she’s out of my league.
While she’s gone, I wander around her studio, studying all her photography work mounted on the walls. It’s good. Really good. I sit down at the table and gaze over at her desk. A cluster of photos in nice frames are the only personal touch. Her home is palatial. Classy. It reminds me of the house I grew up in a lifetime ago. A yearning for my old life hits me for only a moment before I shut it down. I drum my fingers on the table. No sense in going there, it will only ruin my good mood.
Instead, I think back to what Jillian said to me earlier. “If we become friends, we’ll trade secrets over a bottle of wine one night because I’m not the only one at this table who has them.”
Staying friends isn’t a problem . . . it’s the trading secrets part that worries me. Will she run away screaming if I share them? If it were me, I might. It’s not like she’s the kind of woman who needs to be friends with a guy who has a major chip on his shoulder about his past, $263 in his bank account outside of what he’s saving for school, a maxed-out credit card, and an unstable junkie gambler for a father.
Chattering approaches from down the hall, and Jillian walks in with a pretty girl. Tall with curvy hips but still toothpick slim, she has long brown hair and big blue eyes. My guess is she’s around my age.
“Raine, this is my niece, Jenny,” Jillian says and averts her eyes. I wonder why as she fumbles with her camera.
“Hi,” I say, extending my hand to Jenny.
She gives it a quick shake. “So, Aunt Jill said that she met you outside the hospital.” I hear an appraisal beneath her words.
My gaze drifts to Jillian. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“Jenny, sweetie, since Raine is running out of time, can I ask you to have him show you the camera mark?” Jillian says, and catches my eye. “Would you mind taking Jenny?” The chemistry in the room has changed, and Jillian is suddenly on her guard.
Uh-oh. No way. A twinge echoes in my gut. Was her intention to set me up with her niece all along? I hope I’m wrong.
“Sure,” I mumble and lead Jenny back underneath the lights.
“Jen, I’ll need Raine to face the camera and take you into his arms.” Jillian shifts her focus to me. “First set, look at Jenny like she’s your long lost love, and then for the second set, I’ll have you look at the camera.”
I nod and wrap my arms around Jillian’s niece. She feels too much like Vanessa. I resist the urge to push her away. Instead she pushes closer, her small breasts touch my chest, and she stares up at me with a smile. “You look like you’re in pain. What’s the matter?”
I chuckle. “Sorry, it’s not you. Memories of girlfriends past.” The camera snaps rapidly before I realize Jillian has restarted the shoot.
“That’s good,” Jillian says from the background.
I can’t get my body to relax, despite Jenny’s warmth next to me. I don’t realize she’s noticed until she pinches the top of my butt cheek through my jeans away from Jillian’s view. “Will you relax? You look constipated,” she hisses next to my ear.
I burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous, I guess.”
Snap. Snap. Snap.
“You’ve never modeled before, have you?” she whispers.
“No,” I whisper back.
“Raine?” Jillian says my name and my head snaps to attention.
She smiles but it’s missing her earlier warmth. “Can you look at the camera now? Pretend you’re looking at a lover.”
I look at the camera, and I imagine . . . Jillian. My body relaxes. I imagine staring into her huge golden-brown eyes, and gliding my fingertip across the curve of her bottom lip. Yeah, that’s something I could get into. In contrast, when I think of her niece in my arms, I stiffen, and not in a good way.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
“Hey, Raine.”
“Huh?” My concentration breaks, and I glance down to see a mischievous glint in Jenny’s eye. She twists in my arms. “Aunt Jill. I have an idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Trade places with me.”
Jillian lowers the camera and freezes like a deer in headlights. “Why?”
Jenny looks up at me with a sly grin. “Indulge me,” she says, wiggling out of my motionless arms.
Catching my eye, Jillian gives me a helpless look.
Jenny trots over to take the camera as Jillian tentatively approaches. My mouth breaks into a smile. I sweep her into my arms with the intent of winning her over, and having her drop any stupid ideas about fixing me up with her niece. She tenses next to me.
“Relax.” Funny, it sounds different to me when I say it. Jillian’s body is softer and curvier than Jenny’s; it feels like Heaven against me. She fits into my contours perfectly, softening my hard edges. Electricity snaps over my skin where her body meets mine, and I suppress the instinctive urge to press her closer.
“Aunt Jill, put your arms around his waist. Raine, look at her like you want to eat her for breakfast.” Jenny follows her comment with a wicked chuckle.
“Jenny!” Jillian protests.
I laugh, and Jillian closes her arms around me. Her hands clasp behind me and rest at the base of my spine. I dip my head down into her hair. The smell of vanilla fills my nostrils. “Come on, relax. It can’t be that bad,” I whisper into her hair.
She looks up. Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles. The tension leaves her as she melts into me. I wink and take it as permission to pull her closer.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she says accusingly.
I look down into her wide, golden eyes, aware of the camera in the background, and give her one of the panty-melting grins I used to be known for pre-Vanessa. “Yup.”
My grip tightens around her ever so slightly. That’s what I�
��m talkin’ ’bout.
“Good one!” Jenny says.
The trill of my cell phone sounds from inside my backpack and shatters the moment. I glance at the clock. 5:35. Crap!
Jenny stops shooting.
I tense. “Hey, I’m supposed to pick up a friend on the way to class. That’s probably him. Can we finish tomorrow?”
Jillian’s arms drop from around me, and she moves back. Her face has a flush to it. “No problem. Go. I don’t want you to be late.”
I give her an apologetic look, sorry that I had to be the one to kill the best part of the photo shoot. “I’d stay longer if I could.”
Across the room, I retrieve my phone from my backpack. My hunch is right. It was Dave. His car is in the shop today and his fiancée is working late, so I promised to swing by and pick him up for class. It starts tonight.
I send him a text. Sorry, dude. Got caught up. Be there in 15.
“Aunt Jill, I have to run, too. My shift starts at six,” Jenny says from behind me. “Do you need me tomorrow?” I hear her whisper.
“No, we’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” This time her voice carries an edge of worry.
I chuckle silently, wondering what she’s so afraid of, and then pull my hair back in an elastic and sling my backpack over my shoulder. “I’ll text you later.”
“I’ll walk you both out,” Jillian says, again looking anywhere but at me. I’ll have to take care of that tomorrow. We follow her up the stairs to the front door.
Jenny dips in and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “See ya, Aunt Jill.”
Jillian brightens. “Thanks for helping us out, sweetie.”
I give a quick wave then head to my truck. It’s parked next to a shiny new Toyota that must be Jenny’s.
Catching up to me, she grabs my forearm. “Wait.”
Her tone puts me on the defensive. “What is it?”
“What do you want with my Aunt Jill?”
“What are you talking about? I barely know her.”
“But you want to,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “The camera doesn’t lie.”
Caught Up In Raine Page 4
