by Milly Taiden
Hugh’s eyebrows shot into his hairline and he smiled down at me as he stood back up. “Nope.”
I hadn’t been in a staring contest since I was a kid, but I was still good at it. I glared up at him, one hand on my hip, the same as my mother would do when scolding me or Ryan. Mostly Ryan, but still.
He shifted on his feet, his face slowly sliding from interested and seductive to uncomfortable and finally chagrined.
At last he broke. “Listen, I really I don’t know where he is.” Then he started to laugh, a smile sweeping across his face. “And if I did, trust me, I’d tell you.”
That surprised me. “You would?”
“Shit, yeah. I think you could even give him a run for his money.”
Jet had to be the man on the stairs . . . I groaned inwardly. Of course, I should have known that the best in the business would also be the best at making a move on a woman. Crap on toast. I knew I had to ask the question, though I dreaded the answer. “Was he wearing a black shirt and light blue jeans with a rip across the left knee when he left?”
Hugh smiled, his grin stretching wide. “Why yes, yes he was.”
I closed my eyes and held my breath. Count to ten, just count to ten. You can salvage this, Jasmin. I had essentially assaulted my first assignment, my first interviewee, wringing his ear like he was a naughty child. Even if he did deserve it, I was up crap creek without a paddle if I didn’t make this right. Son of a . . . I could not lose my job off my first freaking assignment!
“Oh my God,” I whispered, feeling the room tighten around me as my anxiety soared.
“That bad?” Hugh whispered from far too close. I snapped my eyes open to find myself staring into his face only inches away. But as handsome as he was, as pretty as his blue eyes were, and as bold as he was being, he didn’t strike the nerve that Jet had— the one that seemed to hang out in my panties.
I put one hand over his face and pushed him back, ignoring his laughter. “Oh, Jasmin, you’re going to fit in here just fine.”
His laughter followed me all the way back to the door, and then he called to me. “Wait, one more thing.” I turned to face him. His eyes were serious, he held up his hands. “If Jet screws up, you can come back and take pictures of me.” He winked, seriousness gone, and I let out an exasperated rush of air.
“Do you ever turn it off?”
He just shook his head, laughter again at the edge of his mouth. “And for the record, neither does Jet.”
Just what I wanted to hear.
* * * * *
It took me the rest of the day and into the early evening before I found Jet, and I had to resort to bribing the security guard on the movie set, who happily pointed out where the stuntman liked to hide from the job after I reluctantly slipped him the last $20 in my wallet. But by then I wasn’t sure I wanted to find him. I’d spent the day rehashing our meeting on the stairs, thinking about the feel of his fingertips on my chin and feeling increasingly embarrassed by my behavior. Nope, by the time I’d found him I was almost ready to take Hugh up on his offer. I could interview him, take his picture, send it back to Kevin and hope it would be enough.
I gritted my teeth, already knowing the answer. I was tougher than that; Kevin had made it clear that this was a test to see if I could hack it. Jet was my assignment, and I had to prove I could do this. Hugh was a back-up plan I would only resort to if Jet wouldn’t work with me. Which, after the stairway incident, might just be the case.
It would be okay; I had to believe it. Even if life had always shown me otherwise, this time would be different. It had to be—the few dollars left in my bank account wouldn’t get me through the next week at home, never mind a month worth of bills, and I’d quit my retail job to take this one. All or nothing, I was all in.
The cafe wasn’t huge, but there was a back section that was mostly hidden in the shadows and it was there that my assignment waited—or, more accurately, slumped. I moved toward him, weaving in between the tables, taking the scene in. Bright colored streamers swirled off the umbrellas over each little table, giving the place a festive look. Laughter from the other patrons and singing from somewhere down the street covered the sounds of my approach. On impulse, I lifted my camera and took focus on Jet. The streamers, as bright as they were, amplified the fact he was not in a festive mood. The way his one hand gripped a bottle of local beer and the other was flung over his head spoke volumes for his state of mind. Going to one knee, I caught him from the low angle, the shot highlighting the white-knuckled grip on the beer bottle. Taking a breath, I lowered the camera, slid into the seat opposite him, and tapped my knuckles on the table. The smell of stale beer and sweat swirled around my nose. I wrinkled my face and tapped my knuckles again.
“Mr. Sterling?”
He let out a groan and a muffled, “Elise, go away.”
“It’s not Elise. My name is Jasmin Vargas. I’m here on behalf of Wild Child to interview you and take your pictures.” Damn, how many times had I said that today? Too many and it was tiresome to have to keep explaining myself.
Jet tipped his head up and blinked up at me, recognition slowly dawning on his face. “Spitfire . . . well, I’ll be damned.” He smiled, that crooked smile. It tugged at me, but I deliberately ignored that tug.
“I realize you aren’t well—”
He lifted his head all the way up, cutting me off with a wave of his hand. “I’m just fine, the beer is weak, which is why I drink it and not the tequila.”
I folded my hands on the sticky tabletop, thinking that if I acted like the stairwell scene had never happened, maybe he would too. “I’d like to schedule with you for a shoot tomorrow. What time would be best to start this process?”
Professional, yes, I could do this. His foot slid under the table, his calf rubbing against mine, and I jerked in my seat. His eyes narrowed slightly in thought, seemingly unaware of the fact that he’d bumped my leg. Of course, he wasn’t trying to seduce me; he had brushed against me by accident. I was nothing compared to that blond bombshell. Likely, he dated only models and actresses, not photographers with no name clothes and an older model digital camera as their only possession. Just one more reason to keep at this; a new camera would make my job even easier. If I could get this assignment under my belt.
Those little facts didn’t change the snap of awareness humming through me. I couldn’t deny it; I was definitely attracted to Jet. This was bad—this was so, so bad.
“Tomorrow, not too early.” Jet smiled and shifted in his seat, his leg once more bumping into mine then staying there, the pressure light, almost gentle.
I took a slow deep breath and held very still. Nothing, I would feel nothing.
“Not too early is fine. What about ten?”
“Still too early.” He made a motion at the bartender. “Here, let me buy you a drink.”
“Oh, no, I don’t drink,” I said, tucking my legs back under my chair, hopefully away from his long limbs.
“Really? Why not? Religion?” His questions, though they were simple and well within reason, made me leery. Was he trying to get to know me, or trying to work his way into my panties? Neither was an option, not for me. I just had to keep telling myself that.
“I don’t drink when I’m working. It is . . . unprofessional. I’m sure you understand.” I probably sounded like a prude, but maybe that would deter him from flirting with me. But Jet’s eyes didn’t mock me; there was no laughter in them. Curiosity, but no laughter.
“Hmm. Professional. Got it.” He mumbled as he took another swig of the pale yellow beer, his eyes watching me over the rim before placing the bottle back on the table. “It’s not that good anyway.”
Silence fell between us and I fought not to squirm in my seat. “So tomorrow. What time would be best for you Mr. Sterling?”
He grimaced. “God, don’t call me that. That was my father. Jet will be fine.”
I cleared my throat, “Sure. Jet. What time?”
“You are tenacious, aren�
�t you?”
“I make things happen,” I said, lifting my chin ever so slightly. “It’s why I was hired.” Okay, so I was stretching it a little, but he needed to know I was serious. All business.
His eyes widened and he leaned back in his chair, a smile teasing at the corner of his lips. “Damn. And you always get what you want?”
The air all but quivered between us, his words a subtle challenge I couldn’t resist.
With a slight nod of my head, I answered. “Always.”
His smile widened, and my mouth dried up. I was in over my head with this one. I had so little experience with men I barely knew where to start and where to stop. If only Lily were here to whisper suggestions in my ear; she was much better at dealing with guys than me.
I stood up, maybe a tad too fast. “I will be at your set at ten. I believe that is reasonable, and I’d like to get some work done before the hottest part of the day.”
Gathering up my camera, I turned and started to walk away. If he made this difficult, I could always tell Kevin that Jet wasn’t willing to have his picture taken. That he refused to make appointments.
The night was cool, and after a few minutes I slowed my steps and put a hand against the nearest building. Talking to him had been like standing on the edge of cliff, the wind tugging and pushing you closer to the edge until you finally gave up and jumped. But that wasn’t me. I was no high-risk girl; there would be no jumping off silly cliffs in my future.
At the sound of steps behind me, I whirled, letting out a somewhat relieved sigh that it was Jet, and not some mugger after my camera—Lily had assured me I’d be running into at least three potential muggers a day while I was here.
He cleared his throat. “Did I offend you?”
I frowned. “You mean because you came onto me in the stairwell?”
Smiling, he seemed unashamed, which intrigued the hell out of me, a feeling I determinedly squashed.
“I don’t regret that. But I’m sorry if I upset you back there.” He pointed with his thumb back toward the cafe.
“I’m used to people who are willing to work with me, not ones who won’t make reasonable appointments.” I kept my hands on my camera in front of me. No need for him to know he was my first actual assignment.
“I’m willing,” he stepped up beside me. “To work with you.”
I swallowed hard. “Right. That’s good. Because your other option was a pimple-faced geek with a bad attitude and bad hair.”
“I definitely got the better end of the deal then, didn’t I?” he said, his voice softening.
Nope, we were not going there.
He’s drawing you in, Jazzy. Be careful, this one will suck you under. Ryan’s voice echoed through my mind and I agreed with him. Jet was dangerous. He was what was waiting for me at the edge of the cliff. Dangerous for every part of me—mind, body and heart.
I shook my head, a nervous laugh sneaking out of me. “Okay. Well. Goodnight.” Turning away from him, I called over my shoulder, “I’ll see you tomorrow. At ten.”
He jogged to my side, and then got in front of me and started to walk backward. “I should probably walk you to your hotel, unless it’s too far to walk, in which case I will do the gentlemanly thing—which let me tell you does not come easy to me—and I will call you a cab.” His lips curled up and he gave me a wink. The same kind of wink Hugh had given me, but this time my palms started to sweat, and I had the ridiculous, out-of-control urge to touch the corners of his mouth and feel him smile against my skin. Still bad, a very bad idea.
That wasn’t the worst of it. I don’t know how he knew I was thinking about his mouth, but his eyes suddenly dipped to my mouth and I couldn’t stop the catch in my breathing. He stopped, forcing me to stop or run into him.
“Then again, my hotel is right over there,” he said, though he didn’t take his eyes from me, didn’t even touch me, his words seemed to force my heart into overdrive.
“Very close. I think you’d like it. Bright blinding fiesta colors you can’t even see once the lights are out.”
Then he did reach out and ran one finger along the edge of my jaw, sliding over my slightly parted lips, pinching the bottom one; he pulled lightly on it. I surprised myself by letting him. “Jasmin.” My name on his lips was nearly my undoing. Nearly.
I couldn’t take my eyes off his face, the shape of his jaw, the slight shadow of stubble across his chin and cheeks. I fought against the rush of anticipation and heat pooling between my legs.
“Can I . . .” I managed to get out, my brain unable to put the words I needed together in a full sentence.
“You can have anything you want,” he said, closing the distance between us, his head lowering, hands shifting to my waist, pressing into the curve there as he pulled me against the heat of his body. The feel of his hard planes against me stole what was left of my words. I had to stop this. Now.
I stepped back, half stumbling away from him, and pulled my camera up, taking four shots in quick succession, stuttering over my words, but getting them out and between us. “This dusky light is actually really good for pictures. You sure you don’t mind me getting started now?”
He seemed, to say the least, confused. That wasn’t what made me smile though—it was how obvious his disappointment was. Most guys would hide it, pretend that they hadn’t just been rejected. Not Jet. No, he just barreled into it.
He frowned, and put his hands on his hips. “You mean you aren’t coming with me to my hotel?”
I snapped another picture and laughed at him, feeling something shift inside of me. “No.”
“That little back and forth didn’t turn you on?”
Now I had to lie, but I was still smiling. “No.”
He made an exaggerated moue with his lips, almost like he was begging for a kiss, and his eyebrows lowered as he frowned; I got a picture of it, and then checked the digital shot. Oh my God. It should have been silly, but it looked like a little boy who’d been denied his favorite toy. I lifted my eyes to his and he gave me a slow smile, the corner of his mouth lifting in a curve I wanted to follow with my lips. I had to get out of here before I did something stupid, before I forgot that this was an assignment. A job. Jet was a job and I had to treat him like that.
Change the subject. Quickly. “Besides, won’t your girlfriend be upset that you are being so . . . attentive to me?”
“Hell, I don’t have a girlfriend. They are far too much trouble.” He gave me a quick smile, his lips twisting upward, eyes dancing with mischief.
“The blond woman looking for you on your set sure seemed eager to find you. I thought that . . .”
Jet was already shaking his hands in front of him, back and forth like he could erase my words. “That is not my girlfriend. That was a one night mistake I’m still paying for.”
Ouch. So much for changing the subject to something easier. Did he have a lot of one night stands? Not that it mattered to me. Not one bit.
I lowered my camera, pretended to check the shots, and started to walk, glancing over my shoulder at him. “So, tomorrow then. Goodnight.”
Jet jogged a few feet to catch up to me, and then slung an arm across my shoulders. I stiffened, and he whispered in my ear. “This is just for show. So the muggers don’t get you.”
“Right.” The warmth from his arms was trickling down through my body in a not unpleasant way. Just a week, this was just for a week. Who the hell was I kidding? How was I going to survive a week with this man? I thought about my job, about my barely-there bank account, thought about the house and the foreclosure, about having to sell Ryan’s car if I didn’t make the bill payments. Thought about Ryan and all the things he’d wanted and hadn’t been able to do, and here I was laughing and flirting with a man who should be the last on my list. He was an adrenaline junky and would probably be killed before he made it to thirty-five. My heart clenched at the thought. No, I wouldn’t do that to myself, wouldn’t willingly get tangled up with a man like this.
&nbs
p; Couldn’t.
I pushed Jet’s arm off me, not unkindly, then turned to face him. My mom had always said honesty was the best policy. No better time than the present to test the theory.
“I think we need to lay out some ground rules. This is a game to you; I get it. But it’s my job, a job I will lose if there is even a hint of something between us.” I pleaded with him with my eyes and words. “Please. I need you to behave. I will take pictures, ask you a few questions, and then I’ll be gone and you can get back to your life.”
He sucked on the chipped tooth, and then slowly nodded. “I don’t like it. But if your job is at stake then I will be good.” He threw his hands into the air, and then spun to look at me, one eyebrow raised. “Are you sure?”
I wanted to laugh at him, he was over the top with his mannerisms and behavior, but that was a part of his charm. Damn, this was going to be a long week.
“Yes, I’m sure. And thank you.”
“I still have to walk you back to your hotel,” he said, holding his hand out as if to take mine. I laughed at him and shook my head. He forcibly laced his fingers with mine, the rough calluses on his hands bumping along my skin. “I can’t just let you go on your own. I can’t. Sorry. I’m sure somewhere in my contract there is something about being chivalrous to maidens. Besides, my mother taught me better than to let beautiful green-eyed girls wander about Mexico at night on their own.”
My hand was completely engulfed in his and I stared down at it, stuffing away the feelings he so easily pulled up through my body. What was it about him that was affecting me so? Was it because he was so obviously wrong for me? No, that couldn’t be it; Hugh had flirted with me too and I hadn’t had this reaction.
