“You’re not due until tomorrow,” she said starkly, sounding a bit choked, as if trying to breathe correctly. Was she always this jumpy? She’d mentioned Nevada. Maybe she wasn’t a city girl as he’d assumed.
“I took an early flight. Thought I’d stop by and check the place out. The door was open, and a secretary pushed me in this direction,” he explained with just a hint of apology, then held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I guess you’re the photographer?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why would you assume that?”
Whoops. He didn’t want to let her know he’d been skulking in the corner for the past fifteen minutes. From the glare in her eyes, he wasn’t sure that would go over too well.
Lacey Graham was a prickly number. Pretty as could be, though, he thought, taking in fine, almost porcelain features. Her eyes snapped dark green, and her mouth formed a perfectly pink rosebud, bare of any lipstick. Just what he preferred.
“Well, ma’am, it doesn’t take much to figure out. You’re here, in the studio, checking out the pictures on this big board, and speaking matter-of-factly, I heard you and your assistant talking when I first came in. Didn’t want to interrupt,” he offered by way of explanation and was glad to see her shoulders relax, her frame softening as she nodded.
“Sorry. It’s not a good idea to sneak up on someone like that, especially after hours. I’m Lacey Graham, but I guess you already knew that.”
Her hand was small in his, but strong. She had a firm grip, which triggered a small dart of unexpected arousal that he firmly pushed to the back of his mind.
“So this is the calendar spread, huh?” he said, scrutinizing the wall, trying to ignore his own picture among the others. He recognized one or two of the other guys, men he respected, and it helped him to not feel quite so cheesy about doing this. Not that he’d had much choice in the matter.
“Yep. These are just the PR shots we’re using to play with. It will all change when we have the actual photos we choose for the final, but this gives me some idea what I want to do with each model.”
“All due respect, but I’m not a model, and I’m betting none of these other guys are either.”
He saw the corners of her lips twitch. “With all due respect back, Lieutenant, you are a model for the next week. It’ll be fun, don’t worry.”
He frowned. “A week? I thought we’d spend a day taking pictures and I’d be on my way?”
She shook her head. “It will take more than that. We’re shooting around the city, so I had to arrange for permissions to use various locations for each model. Some we have to get to at crazy times of day, they have to clear them out for a few hours, and that needs planning. Then I’d like to do some unposed, candid shots. The letter we sent stated the time requirements clearly.”
He took a breath, shoved his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t going to admit he’d been in a bitch of a mood about having been ordered to do this in the first place, and when the letter had come in the mail he’d ditched it, thinking he’d get out of the whole deal. His superiors had made him realize differently. Even law enforcement cared about public image these days. Far too much, in his view.
“I guess I figured it wouldn’t take that long,” he said, wincing slightly at the idea of this taking up so much time. “It’s just a few pictures.”
She laughed then, and he was struck by the sound, how lively and natural it was. He had a feeling she used it a lot.
“It’s much more than that. We need to cover a lot of ground, and I want to cover all four seasons from all models, since I may change my mind as to who gets placed where in the final analysis. This is a big deal, Lieutenant. I want this calendar to be a wild success.”
“Good for your career, huh?”
Her posture stiffened again, and she tipped up her chin, nodding shortly. “Absolutely. Probably won’t hurt yours any, either.”
He didn’t answer that. This had nothing to do with his career, but he wasn’t going to get into a pissing match with the pretty lady.
“We’ll be doing a group shot at the end at Ground Zero. You’ll have to come back up for that, probably. Any problems there?”
“I guess not. Should there be?”
“Some of the guys weren’t sure they could go back, to the site, I mean.”
“I’m fine. Unless I happen to be out in the scrub chasing down felons, getting back here for a day shouldn’t be difficult. As long as it’s only a day,” he warned. His supervisors had told him to do whatever the magazine needed, and this didn’t come off his vacation time, so he found it hard to argue.
She peered up at him through thick lashes. “You hungry, Lieutenant?”
“Call me Jarod. And, yeah, I could go for something.”
“If you want, I know some good places. Let me close up here, and we can have our initial consult over some pizza or whatever you prefer. My treat.”
His blood warmed more than it should, but there was no way he was turning down her invitation. He was curious about this beautiful photographer. No doubt she was smart. She was cagey, too, and she also had no qualms about meeting him eye to eye. She had a well-used laugh. All in all, an intriguing package.
“Sure, sounds good. I have to check in at my hotel, though.”
“Where’d you book?”
“The Affinia. Not far from here.”
“You’ll like it. I’ll meet you in the lobby in an hour, then?”
He reached up, tipped his hat. Her eyes followed his gesture so closely, as if she was already mentally taking him apart frame by frame. It was disconcerting.
“See you in an hour.”
2
LACEY COULDN’T QUITE stifle the riff of excitement that hastened her movements as she rushed back to her loft and jumped in the shower to get ready to meet Lieutenant Wyatt in thirty minutes.
She’d nearly had a coronary when he’d walked up behind her in the studio. The man moved like a big cat. She hadn’t heard a step on the hard acrylic floors, but how long had he been there? How much had he heard of Jackie’s conversation with her? She shrugged. She’d said nothing that she felt ashamed of…well, there was the thrusting thing…but Jackie had come up with that one.
Lt. Jarod Wyatt was astounding in real life. The picture had muted the overall effect of absolutely radiant masculinity. She’d completely forgotten everything else—who she was, where she was—when he’d reached up, tipped the brim of his hat and smiled at her….
Oh, my.
She wasn’t prone to fluttering around men, but Jarod Wyatt was fully deserving of it. He was stunning in person.
He also touched something deeper, a chord of comfort and familiarity. It seemed odd, having just met him, but he reminded her of the men she’d grown up with in Nevada. Big, capable men who put a premium on being gentlemanly, and who could be gentle. Like her dad, her uncles and cousins. Lacey had known plenty of good men, and only one bad, so she counted herself fortunate.
There was a sense of polish about Jarod Wyatt, too, though. He’d gone to college, for one thing. She knew from his profile that he had a master’s in criminology, and he had some background in forensics. It was probably why they’d pulled him in on 9/11, beyond the sheer need for manpower. He wasn’t just any cowboy cop.
It was why she’d asked him to dinner. That, and because she wanted to look at him more, to study him the way an artist would study any subject. He would be pure joy to photograph. Her mind was already placing him in poses, in settings.
A few of which were X-rated and included her bedroom.
She smiled, reaching for a towel and wiping down briskly. God, it was good to feel this way, if only for a moment. To look forward to a man’s company again, even though it was only business over pizza. Maybe this was a good sign.
Grabbing black, formfitting pants, she tugged on a pair of heels and a hot-pink T-shirt with a colorful, fringed vest, assessing herself in the mirror.
If she were honest, she knew it was an outfit meant to draw a man’s eye. A particul
ar man’s eye in this case. She nibbled her lip, suddenly apprehensive. So he was a good-looking guy—she should still be careful. Was it smart to have agreed to meet him, a stranger, for dinner? What did she really know about him, after all?
She shook off the doubts and their chilling effect. It was just business, some pizza and conversation. She’d wear this same outfit if anyone had suggested meeting her for dinner that evening. A lot of her clothes were colorful and funky and often drew attention. She wasn’t going to second-guess it. This was who she was.
The phone rang, and she contemplated not bothering with it. She had to meet Jarod, and contrary to popular wisdom about keeping men waiting, Lacey was never late. She was obsessively punctual, in fact.
Making sure she had her wallet, she dug around to transfer her stuff to a smaller purse as she answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Lacey?”
“Yes?”
“This is Gena, from Legal Aid in L.A.?”
She froze in place. Legal Aid had handled her case back in Los Angeles, since she couldn’t afford a high-priced lawyer. Her family would have paid, but she didn’t want them to know what happened. She told them she’d changed her name for business reasons, to maintain privacy from her work. She hated lying to them, but it was better than having them worry about her.
“Hi, Gena, what’s up?” She tried to sound casual, cheerful, but it felt as if her stomach was in her throat.
“Listen, there’s no need to worry, I want to emphasize that first. You should know that Scott Myers was released from his sentence to finish his probation on house arrest. He’s out of prison, but he’s still in California, and he won’t be able to leave a predetermined schedule of home and work for fourteen more months.”
“No,” was all Lacey could breathe before Gena continued.
“Please, don’t worry. He’s wearing a personal monitoring device. He won’t be able to find you, and probably won’t bother, given his profile, the steps you’ve taken and your history. Still, if he attempts to contact you in any way, your restraining order is still in force, even under your new name, so let us know, okay? I don’t want to upset you, but we like to make sure you know what’s going on.”
Lacey’s breathing seemed cut off and she swallowed, her previous cheer evaporating as she found the air to mumble an answer before she hung up.
Scott was free.
He shouldn’t have been released for another eighteen months, she recalled. The night he left Lacey unconscious on her kitchen floor he’d gone to a local bar and started a fight there, causing several thousand dollars of damage and other injuries. Luckily, the combined charges had sent him away for a while.
Lacey breathed deeply, calming herself. She had to listen to Gena, who wouldn’t bullshit her. Scott wouldn’t come after her. Still, when he’d left her lying there, broken and bruised, he’d made it clear he thought she was dead. His only comment upon finding out she wasn’t was relief that he wouldn’t be charged with murder.
She was far away now, new city, new name. The calendar project didn’t really put her in the public eye—she was behind the scenes. Bliss wouldn’t give out her personal details. She was safe, she reassured herself, standing frozen with the phone in her hand for several minutes.
Eyeing the door, the dark city streets that she usually loved so much suddenly seemed ominous. Anxiety gripped her at the thought of going out. With a stranger, no less.
What had she been thinking? Hadn’t she learned anything from her previous mistakes?
She had no idea who Jarod Wyatt was, and just because he had an impressive official record, that didn’t mean squat. Plenty of cops, firemen, doctors—all kinds of men—were closet crazies. More dangerous because of their outward appearance, because they had power and liked to use it. That’s how it had been with Scott. Witty, handsome, successful…with all of that violence hiding under the surface.
She put her purse down, started to take her vest off, but stopped, pausing in the center of her living room.
This was important, her heart told her. She had a big choice to make.
Was she going to hide in her apartment and her studio for the rest of her life?
No. She didn’t want to be that person.
The fear was just an emotional response, a good response, so the counselor at the hospital had reassured her. It would keep her alert and keep her safe, but she couldn’t let it run her life. Good fear, bad fear. She had to remember the difference.
Jarod Wyatt was a man she’d be working with closely, and she couldn’t let her personal demons get in the way of her success on this job. His record was impeccable, and she’d been alone with him earlier and hadn’t felt the least bit afraid. She’d been excited about seeing him tonight—maybe a little too excited—so now she knew to throttle that back so she didn’t give the wrong impression. But she would still go.
She’d meet him in a populated, well-lit place for some pizza, talk work and welcome him to the city. Enjoy having his company for a few hours. She’d be friendly, professional and keep clear boundaries. Then she’d come home and put this all out of her mind.
She needed to keep things in perspective—it wasn’t as if Jarod had asked her out, and he hadn’t indicated anything other than casual friendliness. He was just a guy, another model.
No big deal.
JAROD STEPPED OUT of the elevator of the very nicely appointed hotel and smiled at a group of older women who watched him walk by. He smiled at them and touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. The group seemed to get a kick out of it.
He saw the beacon of Lacey’s fuchsia shirt immediately as she stood poised by the entrance, looking around furtively. A glance at his watch told him he was five minutes early, and she’d obviously changed her clothes, so she couldn’t have been waiting long. After his surprise appearance earlier, he approached carefully, making sure she had ample time to see him. She turned, smiling falsely, overbrightly.
Did she regret making plans with him?
He was perfectly happy to explore the city on his own, but he also looked forward to some company, someone to share the sights with for an evening. She’d seemed interested and friendly at the studio. He wondered what had changed.
“Hi there,” he said casually, looking out at the streets bustling with early-evening traffic. The noises were muted here in the lobby. Though he could spend long days and nights in the desert enjoying nothing but the silence of the sand and the stars, he found the energy of the city stimulating, as well.
Or maybe it was the woman standing just a foot away, in spite of the tension stiffening her very nicely built form. Something about her had his blood circulating with a low, warm hum through his system, but he wasn’t sure she was having the same reaction.
“You okay?” he found himself asking.
“Sure. Why do you ask?”
“You seem…strung a little tight.”
She frowned, and shrugged. “Just distracted. Busy day, a lot on my mind.”
The message underneath the cool reply really said “mind your own business” and wasn’t lost on him. If this was going to be the mode of conversation, he was in for a long evening.
“How about a drink first? I could use something to warm up. Chilly out there tonight.”
“I think it’s going to be an early winter this year.”
“You said you wanted to shoot seasonal photos—how is that possible when it’s already October?” he asked as they walked to the bar. She hadn’t said yes or no to the idea of a drink, but he wasn’t lying about wanting one. She didn’t object as they headed in that direction.
“Mostly we’ll use props, how you’re dressed, that kind of thing. Then the postproduction guys can work their magic, too. The photo will be mostly you and not so much background. So for a July shot you might wear trunks, and we’ll work it that it looks summery.”
“Even if I’m freezing my ass off in reality?”
“Yeah.” She smiled then, and
laughed. “Welcome to the cruel world of modeling.”
He ordered a whiskey, neat, and asked her if she wanted anything, surprised when she ordered the same. His eyebrows lifted as they tilted their glasses toward each other and she swallowed hers in one throw, closing her eyes as if she’d needed it more than he did. He hadn’t realized how pale she was until the warmth from the whiskey infused her skin with a pink glow.
Something had happened between the time he’d left and now, but he didn’t feel free to inquire. He was a stranger, a visitor that she was nice enough to spend some time with because they had to work together. That was it.
Maybe not, maybe more, whispered the hum in his body. He ignored it. He wasn’t opposed to having some fun with a willing woman while he was here, but he wasn’t about to complicate matters with the prickly photog—unless she offered an invitation—but she wasn’t being too inviting at the moment.
So why was he enjoying the view of the very feminine swell beneath the stylish top, taking advantage while her eyes were closed?
“You want to get some pizza? I know a place that has the best in the city,” she said, opening her eyes just as he looked back up. Almost caught staring, he thought, feeling about seventeen.
Her green eyes were luminous, maybe in part from the whiskey, but she was a natural beauty, indeed. He waited before answering, questioning whether this was a good idea, but he’d already agreed. Jarod wasn’t in the habit of backing out on a woman when he promised to spend an evening with her.
“Pizza? That sounds good. Must be a hundred pizza places here, but you know the best one, huh?”
He winced internally. Small talk was not his strength.
She grinned, seeming more relaxed. “Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. It’s an amazing experience that will shift your entire perspective on what the dish means. The place is a hole-in-the-wall that tourists never find, so you’re in for a treat. We’ll pick up a bottle of vino on the way because they don’t serve drinks. You have to bring your own.”
“I like a lady with a plan,” he agreed, glad she seemed to be loosening up.
Hard to Resist Page 2
