“Romantic?”
“Yes, romantic. You know, out of the ordinary, something that bares your soul to someone special who you want to impress.” She briefly closed her eyes and gave her head an emphatic shake. “No, not impress. She’s someone you care about…you’ve never felt this way about a woman before. You want to show her how you feel with every detail that you’ve planned for this date.”
“Romantic.” He sighed. Not exactly his style. “Right.”
“Stretch your imagination a little,” she said flatly, which made him smile.
“Help me out here.”
She squinted at him. “The longer you fool around, the longer this is gonna take.”
“Who’s fooling around? I usually take a woman to dinner and the theater. I’m a boring date. Now you know. Okay?”
She grinned. “You are a boring date. But so am I, so don’t be insulted.” She sobered, straightened and briefly closed her eyes. “Together we can do this. Okay. Imagine that you’ve planned a sunrise picnic. Up here.” She gestured toward the roses and bush of fragrant yellow flowers he didn’t recognize.
“You’ve brought candles and champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, soft romantic music and—What?”
“Nothing. Go on.”
“You look highly amused.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m just listening. You’re really very good at this.”
“Obviously that isn’t your idea of a romantic date. That’s fine.” She stepped back, eyed him for a moment. “Forget the romantic part. Let’s go back to you getting laid.”
He laughed.
“Consider the picnic foreplay.” She raised the camera again and focused. “You’ve been waiting for this moment for a month. Come on, let your imagination run with it. You’re expecting to have the best sex of your life.”
He started laughing and she glared at him over the camera.
“Not exactly what I was looking for,” she said dryly.
“You don’t see the humor in this?”
She blew out a puff of air. “Let’s try this again. No laughing.”
“No, ma’am.”
“I’m serious, Logan.”
“Me, too. Look. Not even a smile.”
She shook her head in admonishment, but her lips curved slightly. “Ready?”
He sighed. This was absurd. What a waste of a Saturday. He could have been golfing in Myrtle Beach. Hell, a trip to the dentist would’ve been more productive. Certainly easier.
She repositioned the camera and when the strap around her neck went up, so did her T-shirt, exposing a strip of pale skin above the waistband of her jeans. Something gold and dangly caught his eye. A ring with some kind of charm gleamed from her navel.
His gaze traveled up to the hem of her T-shirt. Another three inches and it would ride the swell of her breasts. His gut tightened. He wanted to see more.
“Great.”
He heard her voice, heard the camera click. Neither of which hampered his wildly inappropriate thoughts.
“Okay,” she said, moving back and taking one shot after another. “Whatever you’re thinking, keep thinking it. This is awesome stuff.”
Her permission was mere formality. His imagination had already taken over, and he wondered what it would feel like to tongue her navel, tease it and her piercing with his teeth. He wondered if she had any more, in more-intimate places.
The hell of it was that he didn’t go in for that kind of thing, and Madison hadn’t seemed the type who would, either. The incongruity was what fascinated him most.
That was a lie. His gaze lowered to her thighs, to that narrow place where they didn’t meet.
Her long lean legs interested him far more. Her generous derriere sparked more than a little interest, as well. As slender as she was, her backside was nice and round and entirely too tempting.
His hands reflexively fisted and he imagined his arms wrapped around her, his hands kneading firm flesh while her naked breasts pressed against his bare chest. He’d lift her easily so that her legs could wrap around his waist.
He bet she’d be incredible. Totally open and uninhibited. Eager to please and be pleased.
His groin tightened.
He tried to stop. He had to look away or end up embarrassing the hell out of himself.
MADISON TOOK SEVERAL dozen shots in rapid succession. This was great stuff. Fabulous. He was finally getting in the spirit of the shoot. The thought had no sooner formed in her head when he tensed and twisted away from her.
“Work with me here,” she said, and snapped a couple more she knew she wouldn’t use, but unwilling to interrupt the flow while waiting for him to relax.
He briefly closed his eyes and with what seemed to be an inordinate amount of effort, gave her his attention again.
“That’s it. Look at the camera,” she said. “Love it. Make it your best friend. Tell it your secrets.”
Letting out a grunt, he hunched his shoulders and rested his elbows on his bent knees.
“Okay,” she said, lowering the camera. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”
A pained look creased his face. “I think I need that coffee now.”
“Now?”
“Uh, yeah.” He didn’t make a move to get up.
“All right.” She hesitated. “I’ll run downstairs for a clean cup.”
“Thanks.”
Setting down her camera, she slid him another look. He kept his gaze averted, his body still bent over, kind of the way she ended up last Saturday after eating too many cocktail wienies.
Heck, she didn’t get it. One minute he was cooperative and looking as if he were about to pull an all-nighter with the blond supermodel du jour. And now, he looked as if he were about to expire.
She got to the elevator, pressed the down button. This was crazy. They were wasting time. “I have a better idea,” she said turning back to him. “Let’s move to—”
He’d just gotten to his feet.
Her breath caught in her throat and she tried unsuccessfully to swallow, tried not to stare at the unmistakable bulge straining against his fly.
Focusing on his face didn’t help.
Awareness smoldered in his darkened hazel eyes, holding her gaze, possessing it for one incredible moment before he glanced away. “You were saying?”
His voice was even, composed, unlike the tornado going through her insides. Her mouth had gone dry, and words stuck in her throat. Even though she knew his arousal had nothing to do with her. Hell, she’d provoked him into creating the sexy private images in his head. God knew which model or actress had stirred that kind of raw desire.
Damn, she should have gotten a shot of that last look.
Madison replied, “I think we’ve gotten enough shots up here. Why don’t we move to the Haiku Suite and have coffee there?”
“Fine.”
“All right then.” She headed back toward her equipment and gathered her bag and camera, willing her hands to quit shaking. Nothing horribly noticeable, but enough of a tremor to make her clumsy and she nearly knocked over the tripod.
Thankfully he grabbed it and proceeded to carry the tripod toward the elevator. The fact he carried it as if it were a shield nearly sent her into a fit of nervous giggles.
She took a couple of deep breaths. The really cleansing kind she’d learned from Talia that went straight to the diaphragm. The exercise calmed her somewhat. As long as she kept her thoughts on business. Unfortunately, that included Jack Logan.
BY THE TIME THEY GOT to the suite it was only eight-thirty and Jack was already thinking about calling it quits for the day. It was all his fault things were going badly. What the hell was he thinking fantasizing about her? Picturing her naked. Wondering if she was a Brazilian wax kind of woman, or if she went au naturel.
Damn it.
He concentrated on the suite’s interesting decor. An Asian theme with silk upholstered walls, black lacquer furniture and very expensive-looking Oriental rugs. He hadn’t se
en this particular suite before, not at the opening and not with Madison earlier in the week.
Hopefully this change of venue didn’t mean anything. He ducked his head into the bedroom and spotted the notorious armoire. Or should he say toy chest. Piper had referred to it that way at the opening, and since it was her hotel, she should know. Each room had one for the more adventurous guests, along with a selection of adult videos. Not his thing. But he wasn’t a prude about it, either. He just hoped Madison didn’t have any unpleasant surprises planned.
“Something wrong?” She set down her equipment and closed the door behind her, her concerned gaze narrowed on him.
He rolled his right shoulder trying to release the tension building around his neck. “We didn’t see this suite the other day.”
“No, but my first choice is booked. This isn’t bad, though, huh? Really more masculine.” She glanced around with an analytical eye, and his gaze headed straight for her rounded backside.
“I’ll call room service for some coffee,” he muttered and focused on finding a phone.
“No, wait.” She moistened her lips. “It won’t take me but a minute to run downstairs.”
“Seems like a waste of time.”
She grimaced. “The thing is, I didn’t make arrangements for any type of billing. And since we aren’t registered guests…”
“I’ll take care of it.” Ignoring her protests, he found a phone and quickly arranged for a pot of their strongest brew. He’d probably regret the caffeine, although he’d developed some immunity thanks to the nasty habit of downing an entire pot each morning while prepping for his show.
Madison gave him a wry look.
He shrugged. “Celebrity does have its privileges. I didn’t make the rules.”
“I’m not being critical.” She smiled. “Envious maybe.”
“Yeah, well, it’s definitely a trade-off.”
“Guess there’s a lot of schlock that goes with the job, huh?”
He smiled back. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“Still wouldn’t mind giving it a shot.” She shrugged and carefully set her camera next to a vase of fresh flowers. “I’d like to take a roll or two of film in here, and then some in the bedroom.”
“Why?”
“It’s part of the suite.”
“Funny.”
“Come on.” She grinned. “Loosen up.”
“Remember our deal.”
“Deal?” She faked a perplexed frown, and then tried to hide a smile as she opened the silk drapes, letting in the sunlight. She turned around to study the effect on the room, and nearly caught him eyeing the way the soft denim clung to her rear.
“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you know what I’m talking about.”
Ignoring him, she trailed her hand lightly over the sleek black lacquer sofa table, all the more impressive bathed in sunlight. “Oh, my, can you imagine staying here for real? Well, I guess you could. Us peons only get to see a room like this in the movies.”
He let the remark slide even though he disliked the class reference. “It’s okay. But I’ve stayed in better places.”
“Where’s that?”
“Out in the open. Under the stars. Air so clean and pure you’re not sure how to breathe it.”
“Whoa. Obviously you’re the outdoor type, but I didn’t know you were that gung-ho.”
“I’m not talking about recreational camping. Being in the field is the real rush. Hot sand under your body while you sleep. But you only close your eyes for a few minutes at a time.” He walked to the entertainment center, found a remote and stepped back to turn on the television—a flat-panel LCD much like the one he had in his own bedroom. After flipping through a couple of channels, he found CNN and then muted the sound.
“Sleeping only a few minutes at a time doesn’t sound like fun.” She stared at the screen, grimacing at the graphic coverage of yet another bombing in the Middle East.
“Ever work out in the field, Madison?”
“Does Times Square count?”
He smiled, but kept his somber gaze on the action on the screen. “If you get the chance, take an assignment abroad. The experience will be unforgettable. You owe that to yourself.”
“Um, I’m not really that kind of photographer. Anyway, I’m not big on sleeping outdoors.”
“Trust me. You wouldn’t care about how hard the ground is or how good a lobster tail drowned in butter might sound. It won’t matter how far away you are from civilization. Adrenaline takes over. It simmers in your veins. You have no concept of time. Days, weeks, months, it doesn’t matter.”
The curious way she studied him effectively shut him up. He’d said too much. His attention went back to the television, and a second before he switched off the remote she snapped a picture.
He jerked back. “What are you doing?”
“That was incredible. That was—” She slowly shook her head, her expression almost reverent. “You’re gonna love that shot. It’s totally you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
She blinked. “Granted, but I listened to what you just said, and that picture captured it. The passion in your words, in your voice. It was truth.” She cocked her head to the side. “You obviously miss being out there—getting the story. Why aren’t you out there more?”
“More?” He laughed. “I haven’t done any field reporting since I accepted the anchor seat.” Of course the network brass would disagree. Except their idea of field reporting was doing the morning show live from a movie set.
“Why not?”
He hesitated. “It’s not feasible.” Was she really that naive? “Shouldn’t we get started?”
“Right.” She looked as if she wanted to say something more but wisely turned away. “Let’s see…the couch. Or maybe…” She moved back slowly, while studying the room. “Over here.” She gestured for him to sit on a fabulous green suede chair.
He did, but she frowned and shook her head.
“That’s not right. Let’s try the couch again.”
He sighed, got to his feet and moved to the couch.
“Okay, good, but can you just kind of turn this way.” She angled her body by example, the T-shirt molding her breasts and blowing his concentration. “More like this.” She touched his shoulder and positioned him toward the window.
He kept his gaze straight ahead; if he turned even a little, her breast would be far too close to his lips.
“Look this way a little,” she said, and when he hesitated, she touched the side of his jaw, a light, innocent touch that shouldn’t have held such potency.
Her fingers quickly fell away, and he wondered if she’d shared the same heated reaction. Crazy as it was. Not just crazy. Full-blown insane. He never mixed business with pleasure. Anyway, he didn’t have brief flings. Too messy. Fodder for the tabloids.
“Um, could you just kind of face the window a little more?” She’d stepped back, her hands at her sides.
“Like this?”
“A little more.” She started to show him and then lowered her hands again. “Don’t look directly into the sun but enough that it lights your face.”
He smiled. “And spotlight all my imperfections?”
She snorted. “If you have one, I haven’t found it yet.”
Rarely did he get embarrassed but that did it. “Trust me. They’re there.”
She grinned and got up close. “Now I’m curious.”
For a foolish second he thought she was going to kiss him, but then she used her index finger to nudge up his chin.
“There.” She moved back and looked through the camera lens. “Put your arm along the back of the couch. But keep your—”
He looked over at her.
“…chin angled.” Sighing, she lowered the camera. “Maybe we’d better stick to candid shots for a while.”
“Look, I know how to follow camera direction.” He pointedly looked at his watch. “Just tell me what you want me to d
o.”
Annoyance flickered in her eyes. “Excuse me, I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, regretting having taken out his edginess on her. She was just trying to do her job. “I didn’t mean to sound impatient.”
“I wasn’t exactly grace personified.” She lifted the camera from around her neck, and his gaze went to the hem of her T-shirt. A flash of bare skin but that was it. “We jumped into this pretty hard. The coffee should be here any minute. Let’s have some, talk about what we’d like to accomplish today and then get back to work.”
“Good idea,” he said. Maybe he’d ask her about the navel ring, or whatever it was. Then again, too personal.
She took the other side of the couch and started to draw her legs up but stopped before her sneakers hit the fabric. “Oh, boy, that’s all I’d need. It would probably take two month’s salary just to dry clean this sucker.”
Jack glanced around at the tasteful furnishings, the Oriental rug under their feet. “This is a Zang Toi design, isn’t it?”
“You’re asking me?” She laughed. “Bloomingdales is still high end to me.”
“I confess. I vaguely remember the name coming up at the grand opening. I don’t even know if Zang Toi is a man or a woman.”
Her smile said she didn’t believe him. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault you’re an elitist.” Her smile widened. “You didn’t make the rules.”
“Hey, I’m just a farm boy from Nebraska.”
She looked serious all of a sudden. “Maybe we should play that up.”
“What?”
“Your leap from humble beginnings to stardom and international fame.”
“There was no leap.” He glanced at his watch. Where the hell was that coffee? “I worked hard to get to where I am.”
“I wasn’t implying you hadn’t. So leap is the wrong word. I only meant that we should play up that theme, or journey, if you will. After all, farms boys are sexy, too.”
“Hell, there you go again.”
“Come on. Sex sells and I sure as hell didn’t make that rule. Hey.” She stretched out her leg and with the toe of her sneaker nudged his foot. “I’m not gonna go crazy with this shoot. I promised it would be tasteful and I meant it.”
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