Bad. Wrong.
And damned inconvenient.
She closed her eyes and tried to visualize Greg-the man she should be thinking about. Greg. Her boyfriend. The man for whom she was having these provocative boudoir pictures taken. Her plan had been to reignite their stalled love life with a gift of these photos. Yet ever since she’d walked into the studio and discovered to her shock and consternation that Adam would be taking the pictures, her fine plan had disintegrated like steam in a wind storm. And speaking of steam…she felt as if it were pulsing from her every pore.
“Roll onto your side,” Adam said, “and let the strap of your teddy fall off your shoulder…that’s it. Now shake your head and wet your lips…perfect. You’re beautiful, Mallory. Stunning. And sexy as hell.”
You’re beautiful, Mallory. Another memory slammed into her. A hot summer night. Adam’s parents away for the weekend. Skinny-dipping in Adam’s pool. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his erection buried so deep in her body she didn’t know where she ended and he began. His fingers slowly tracing her features as if trying to memorize them. His husky words whispering over her wet skin…You’re beautiful, Mallory.
Blinking away the image, she managed to say, “I bet you say that to all the women you photograph.”
He looked at her over the camera and she felt the impact of his regard all the way down to her feet. “No, I don’t.”
Heat seeped through her, and suddenly she felt beautiful. Stunning. Sexy. In that way he’d somehow always made her feel. A way she hadn’t felt for a long time. If she had felt that way, she most likely wouldn’t be here, trying this last-ditch effort to resuscitate her and Greg’s sex life. But Adam’s praise echoed in her ears, encouraging her to push aside her inhibitions.
Staring into the camera, into the place where she knew his dark blue eyes looked at her through the lens, she slowly rolled to her side, then rose to her knees, reveling in the cool slide of the black silk teddy against her heated skin, the delicious friction of the sheer stockings and lacy garter belt against her legs.
Do you remember, Adam? The question whispered through her mind. Are you recalling, as I am, the way it was between us? How we couldn’t keep our hands off each other? How you used to love to touch my hair like this…?
Lifting her hands, she sifted her fingers through her loose hair, envisioning Adam…er, Greg-no, damn it, it was Adam-approaching her, lowering his head to kiss her. Her eyes drifted closed and her lips parted, anticipating the brush of his lips, the delicious sweep of his tongue, and again memories swept through her, of the first time he’d kissed her.
She’d gone to his house, intending to casually mention she’d broken up with her boyfriend, hoping Adam might ask her out. He’d answered the door dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, his hair shower-damp, his skin smelling clean and fresh. He’d looked so delicious she’d nearly forgotten how to speak. Heart pounding, she’d told him her news. No sooner had the words passed her lips than he’d cupped her face between his hands, whispered Thank God, and then kissed her. A long, slow, deep, knee-weakening kiss that left no doubt he’d been experiencing the same pull of attraction as she. When he’d finally ended the kiss, he’d looked as dazed as she’d felt.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he’d asked.
“How long?”
“I met you a year ago, so…a year.”
His confession had thrilled her and made her wish she’d broken up with her boyfriend a lot sooner. She’d smiled and pulled his head toward hers. “Seems we have a lot of time to make up for,” she’d whispered against his lips.
“That’s the end of the last roll.”
At the sound of Adam’s deep voice, Mallory’s eyes popped open, dispelling the memory. He stepped from behind the camera and regarded her with an indecipherable expression.
The spell broken, heat crept up Mallory’s neck, although why she should be embarrassed puzzled her. She hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she was trying to do something right. For Greg. Reliving memories, fantasizing, was perfectly normal. Still, she sent up a mental prayer of thanks that Adam couldn’t read minds. Or Greg, for that matter.
Yet she couldn’t help but wonder if Adam’s mind had been filled with similar sensual images while he’d snapped the photos. Probably not. The sexual fire that had burned between them had been short-lived and died out long ago. And while he held a special place in her heart since he’d been her first, the devastating ease with which he’d ended their relationship left no doubt she’d amounted to little more than a notch on his bedpost.
And now, here he was. Looking even more incredible than when she’d last seen him. And here she was. Wearing the three hundred dollars worth of La Perla lingerie she’d purchased to entice another man. A man named…um, Greg. Right. Greg.
With a self-conscious cough, she looked around for her robe. Perhaps Adam could read minds-not a comforting thought-because he plucked the pink terry-cloth garment from the chair next to his camera then walked toward her.
“Here you go,” he said, handing her the robe, his eyes alight with the hint of mischief she so vividly recalled, “although it’s a shame to cover up that lingerie.”
Whew! Who the heck had turned on the heat? Didn’t this room have air-conditioning? It was July for cryin’ out loud. Even though she already felt as if she were melting, she quickly slipped on the thick robe, wrapping the material around herself and belting the sash.
Ah, that was better. Feeling much more in control now that she was covered from neck to shin and it was no longer noticeable that her nipples were erect, she slid from the mattress and stood before him. Even though a respectable six feet separated them, she had to brace her knees to keep from backing up to put more distance between them.
There were dozens of questions she wanted to ask him-about his life, what he’d been doing for the past five years-but a quick glance at the wall clock indicated she had no time to socialize before meeting her client. In fact, she’d have to move if she didn’t want to be late.
“When will the pictures be ready?” she asked, proud that she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.
“The proofs should be done within a week. I’ll call you when they’re finished.” He rested his hands on his Levi’s-clad hips, and Mallory pretended her peripheral vision wasn’t working. Pretended she didn’t notice how his splayed fingers seemed to point toward his groin. Pretended it wasn’t obvious how great he looked in those jeans, which, based on the fascinating fade patterns, were old favorites. Of course, she’d also seen him wearing a suit and tie and he’d looked mighty fine in that, too. She suppressed a feminine sigh of pure appreciation. He was just that sort of guy-looked great no matter what he wore. Actually, as she well knew, he looked great wearing nothing at all.
“Earth to Mallory…you okay?”
She blinked. “Uh, yeah. Fine.” She took two jerky steps back, toward the dressing room where she’d left her clothes. “I’d better get dressed.” With that she turned and walked swiftly across the room.
After emerging five minutes later, feeling much more in control now that she was fully clothed, her sexy lingerie folded in her shopping bag, she made her way to the front of the studio. Adam stood behind the counter, writing on a pad next to the phone. When her heels clicked on the ceramic-tile floor, he looked up. Their gazes met and Mallory’s footsteps nearly faltered.
Whoa. He packed a powerful wallop with a mere look. But then, he always had. Probably because of those gorgeous blue eyes that could change from teasing to intense in a heartbeat. The way he used to look at her, as if he could see into her soul…she gave herself a mental shake. It was better she not think about it. Adam was her past-and that’s where he needed to stay.
He stepped from behind the counter. They met in the middle of the floor and he walked with her to the door. “It was great seeing you again, Mallory.” He shot her a wicked, teasing smile and waggled his brows. “Especially seeing so m
uch of you.”
Heat rushed into Mallory’s face. She nearly said that if she’d had the slightest inkling that he would have been taking her pictures, she would have chosen a different photography studio, but the words died in her throat. Not only did they sound unintentionally insulting, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that they might not be true.
“It was great seeing you, too, Adam.” She imitated his brow waggle. “Even if you saw more of me than I saw of you.”
Mischief, along with an unmistakable flash of interest, glittered in his eyes. “Perhaps on this particular occasion. Still, it’s a problem that could have been solved like that.” He snapped his fingers.
This time heat whooshed downward, warming Mallory all the way to her toes. “Not a good idea when one is taking pictures, I imagine,” she said, matching his teasing tone. “I think that’s called double exposure.”
He laughed. “I’m sorry we didn’t have much of a chance to catch up.”
“Me, too. I would have loved to hear all about this big career change you’ve made.”
“And I’d have loved to hear how your real-estate business is going and about this guy you had these pictures done for. He’s a lucky man.”
“Thank you.”
“Maybe when you pick up your proofs you’d like to grab a cup of coffee together?”
A perfectly casual invitation that absolutely should not have revved her heartbeat the way it did. He was an old friend, for goodness sake. Nothing more. They’d had coffee together dozens of times. Obviously spending an hour in the afternoon wearing sexy lingerie had had a strange effect on her libido. To refuse would make it seem as if she placed too much importance on an offhand invite. “That sounds nice, Adam.”
“Great. I’ll call you when the proofs are ready.” He smiled and opened the door for her.
“Talk to you soon,” she said, then stepped out onto the sidewalk. She actually welcomed the blast of inferno-like July heat that engulfed her because it gave her something on which to blame her discomfort. Walking quickly to her car, she slid behind the wheel. She’d driven three blocks before her breathing returned to normal-a fact she refused to examine too closely for fear of discovering the reason.
Her life was finally exactly the way she wanted it. Stable. Secure. No more moving around the country, no more living in apartments. Her career was in high gear, and she’d recently achieved a milestone goal and bought her first house. She had a steady boyfriend who had a steady job-yup, everything was perfect and…steady.
Okay, maybe things weren’t perfect with Greg, but she’d kissed enough frogs to know that he had prince potential. He provided the stability she’d always craved, and she was willing to work on the things that needed some polishing-like their sex life. Hey, not every guy could be like Adam Clayton in bed. Actually, she’d finally forced herself to admit that no guy would ever be like Adam Clayton in bed.
The last thing she wanted, or needed, was someone to rock the steady little boat she’d worked so hard for. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. Nine years ago, Adam had capsized her. She wasn’t about to give him the chance to do it again.
2
One week later, Saturday, 12:00 p.m.
WITH THE SUNSHINE SENDING shimmering shafts of gold through the front window of Picture This, Adam stared at the contact sheets from his photo session with Mallory Altman and blew out a long, slow breath.
She looked…incredible. Soft and feminine. Wicked, yet somehow innocent. Tempting and enticing and aroused and so damn sexy he found himself shifting uncomfortably to relieve the strangulation occurring behind the fly of his jeans.
He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Hey, show him a guy who wouldn’t be turned on by these pictures, and he’d show you a dead guy. He’d told her that her boyfriend was a lucky man, but what he should have said was her boyfriend was the luckiest damn guy in New York. And for a brief, magical time nine years ago, Adam had been that lucky guy.
Damn, seeing her again had felt like a punch in the heart. Stunned amazement followed by that mind-boggling rush of pleasure. The appointment book had read M. Allory-or at least that’s what he’d thought it said, as Nick’s handwriting was atrocious. One look at her, at her smile, at those brown eyes that had always reminded him of warm, melting chocolate, and the years had slipped away, inundating him with a flood of memories…memories that had haunted him all week and that threatened to take over now.
Forcibly pushing them aside, his gaze riveted on one particular photo of her. She was lying on her side on the bed, her dark hair spread across her shoulders in a disheveled fall of loose, shiny curls. With her head propped up on one hand, her other arm rested along the sinuous indent of her waist and the curve of her hip. One stocking-clad knee was bent, her moist lips slightly parted and her eyes stared directly into the camera. She looked like a succulent silk-clad morsel waiting to be plucked from an hors d’oeuvres platter. Actually, daring someone to pluck her from that platter.
A memory crystallized in his mind, of Mallory, lying in a similar position on top of his sleeping bag in the tent they’d pitched the weekend they’d gone camping upstate. Three glorious, lazy days spent almost exclusively in that tent, exploring each other, touching, talking, learning-each caress, each new bit of knowledge about her making him fall deeper in love. He could see her as if it were yesterday, her hair a dark, glossy tumble of curls. Wearing nothing but a playful, wicked grin. See anything you like? she’d asked in a smoky voice. He certainly had-and had delighted in showing her each and every thing.
He blinked away the lingering thought and again studied the photo. Her pose highlighted every gorgeous feminine curve and her eyes seemed to say I am everything you could ever want and I’ll make all your fantasies come true. Definitely words any man would love to hear. Words the man in her life had no doubt heard.
A surge of what felt suspiciously like jealousy washed through him and he shook his head. Damn, he was losing his mind. Jealous over some guy he’d never met. But maybe it wasn’t jealousy-maybe it was more like envy. Yeah, that’s all it was. Envy. What guy wouldn’t want a woman to go to the effort of taking sexy pictures for him? To look at him like he was the only man on earth and she wanted to gobble him up in one bite? The fact that she’d taken such sexy photos proved she still possessed the adventurous sense of fun he’d found so captivating. Whoever Mallory’s man was, he was one lucky bastard and Adam hoped the guy appreciated what he had. It was certainly something Adam wished he had.
That thought brought him up short and a frown yanked down his brows. What the hell was he thinking? He didn’t want that. A woman didn’t spend the time and money to have such intimate photos taken for a man unless they were in a relationship. Unless she had strong feelings for him. And relationships and strong feelings were the last things on Adam’s current three-months-in-Europe, bachelor agenda. Mallory had wreaked havoc on his travel plans once before. She was the sort of woman he suspected could also wreak havoc with a guy’s bachelor plans. Good thing she wasn’t available.
His gaze drifted back down to the contact sheets. He’d lost touch with Mallory five years ago, right after his life had taken such a dramatic turn due to his dad’s unexpected death. Hadn’t seen her since.
Well, he’d seen her again now. And damn, he’d liked everything he’d seen. And everything he’d seen had dredged up those memories he’d tried so hard to bury. But unfortunately those memories had haunted him constantly this past week.
He’d been stunned to learn she wasn’t married. During their brief chat last week, he’d made a comment about the photos being for her husband and she’d told him they were for her boyfriend-that her engagement had ended before the wedding had taken place.
Pulling his gaze away from the photos, he looked at his watch. Just past noon. Would she come into the studio today to pick up her proofs? He’d called her this morning-shaking his head as he recalled how his heart had pounded. An answering machine had clicked on afte
r the third ring and a recorded voice had asked that he leave a message. After saying that her proofs were ready, he’d hung up, feeling ridiculously let down that he hadn’t had a chance to talk to her.
His thoughts were interrupted when the front door opened. Adam’s heart jumped only to settle back into place when Nick Daly walked into the studio. Friends since high school, Nick was the brother Adam had never had-yet in all those years, he’d never seen Nick look more bleary-eyed or rumpled.
“How is it possible for a guy to look so exhausted and so happy at the same time?” Adam asked with a grin.
“If you expect me to answer any complicated questions, you’ve lost your mind.”
He took in the colossal foam coffee cup clutched in Nick’s hand. “I didn’t know the Java Hut made to-go cups that big.”
“Trust me, there isn’t a container big enough for the caffeine hit I need,” Nick said with a tired smile. “I think I should just request an IV drip. Sorry to be so late.”
“No problem. That’s why I’m here-to hold down the fort for the proud new dad.”
A grin that could only be described as totally besotted curved Nick’s mouth. “Oh, man, Adam, I don’t think there’s ever been a more beautiful baby in the history of babies than Caroline.”
“Can’t argue with you there. I was the proudest honorary uncle at the nursery when I visited her at the hospital. But I bet your parents said the same thing about you when you were born.” He made a great show of looking Nick over. “Then again, maybe they didn’t.”
“Ha-ha. Tread carefully, my friend. You’re dealing with someone who’s had about seven hours of sleep in the last seven days. Caroline may be adorable and gorgeous, but whew, can that kid yell. Gotta tell ya, whoever made up that phrase ‘sleep like a baby’ clearly never spent any time with an actual baby because let me tell you-babies do not sleep. At least not for more than like twenty minutes at a time. And you know what? When the baby isn’t asleep, the parents aren’t asleep.” He stifled a yawn. “Things will be easier after Annie’s mom arrives the day after tomorrow to help out. Nothing like having a doting grandma on the premises. Annie and I’ll finally get some sleep and I can get back to work. And you’ll be off the hook.”
Why Not Tonight? Page 2
