by Reina Torres
“We realized we needed to get this house photographed and on the market, and when you sent us that link to your portfolio… anyway, before I talk your ear off, you’re still going to do this, right?”
Unlocking the doors, Finley swung them open onto the deck and stepped outside, feeling the warm spill of light on her upturned face. When she turned back around to look at Abby, she got the full view of the back of the house and stood there staring at the elegant lines. With its lodge-like feel, it fit into its surroundings as if it had been set down and the land had been built up around it instead of the other way around. The home, furnished with Abby’s tasteful and fresh style, had the aura of being well lived in and loved even though it was brand spanking new. This was not just a house; this was going to be a treasured home.
“Yes,” Finley looked at her friend and felt gratitude well up inside of her, “how could I say no?”
“Oh, thank you!” Abby nearly bowled them both over when she rushed across the deck to give her a big hug. Finley managed not to back away or pry her arms off. And yet, Abby must have felt the way that Finley tensed up at the embrace. “Sorry!” She stepped back and offered a slight grimace on a face flushed with embarrassment. “I forgot you’re not-”
“Normal?”
Shaking her head, Abby sighed. “Touchy feely… and not everyone is.”
Finley laughed it off and they both joked about it while the photographer struggled to relax. “I really am grateful for the work, Abby. I promise you’ll love the shots.”
“We’ll love the shots. I know we will. You’ve got a real eye for the truth, Finley. You always captured the heart and soul of the things you photograph.”
Abby’s grin was easy and Finley found herself envious of the younger woman. She had her life going in the right direction, and she was happy, ecstatically so. Maybe this assignment would give her the time to settle into life back in St. Helena and when she was done with the first house she’ll be a little less of a mess.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and Abby fished it out with a roll of her eyes. “Jack making sure I’m on my way back into town. We have another meeting with a supplier.” She started to send him a reply and stopped. “Do you need me to stay?”
Taking another sweeping look at the house Finley shook her head. “Unless you need me to set the security alarm?”
Abby removed one set of keys from her ring. “No, Jack and I can come back and do that later. You have full run of the house all day if you’d like to walk around and get familiar with it. If you need to come back tomorrow or another day, just call and we'll schedule it in” She sent the text and slid the phone back into her pocket. “Okay then, I’m off to town. Enjoy yourself.”
Finley gave Abby a wave as the designer showed herself out.
#
Hours later, Finley had finished with the exterior shots of the front and the back of the house. The full flush of sunlight had gilded the front facade of the home with a warm glow, and she’d taken scores of photos from different angles to get a wide variety of shots for the Tanners to use. From there she’d gone on to work with the foyer, living, and family rooms in order.
She was just about to start the master bedroom when she heard the doorbell and made her way back to the front of the house. She’d been half expecting Abby to show up again with Jack in tow after their meeting. Laughing, she twisted the knob in her hand and yanked the door wide open and found herself staring straight at a broad muscular chest.
Sure, it was covered in a dark green Henley shirt, but it was muscled. The play of sunlight over the light knitted cotton shirt made that much obvious to her sharp eyes. Unconsciously, she blew out an appreciative breath before she could stop herself.
She could only hope that he hadn't heard it, but one look told her she hadn't had any such luck.
Roman Brady, the tanned God of her late night erotic dreams, was giving her a smile that threatened to melt her into the ground.
“What are you doing here?”
Startled, it took Finley a moment to realize the words had come from her.
He shrugged a little, and damn if it didn't pull his shirt tighter across his chest. “I,” he answered, taking a small step closer to her, “am here for you.”
Oh, those words were rife with possibilities, and quite a few of them had her squeezing her thighs together to keep herself from squirming. “I'm working.” She heard the flat tone and regretted it. “But, I should thank you, since I hear you are responsible for the opportunity.”
“I just reminded Abby and Jack that you were in town. Your talent is what got you the job.”
It really wasn't helping that he sounded so damn helpful and proud. She recognized the tone. He wasn't proud of his contribution. Roman wasn't like that. He'd never been like that. Roman was proud of her.
The revelation made her weak in the knees and also soft in the head, otherwise she would never have said, “Come in.”
#
He was pretty sure she'd just lost her mind. He half expected her to slam the door in his face. He hadn't expected her to let him in while she was working. When they had been in high school, he went with her while she'd photograph all kinds of things. He'd told her he'd go along to make sure she was safe. After all, while she was looking through the viewfinder, the rest of the world just disappeared around her. It was just safer, he'd explained, but what he really wanted to do was spend time with her.
Even now, as he followed her through the rooms, listening to her talk about the shots she took, he was amazed by her. When she had been a little girl, so very adult in so many ways, she'd always seen the world in a different way than everyone else. Her father, so lost in his own anger and suffering, had never seen her for the talent she possessed, or glimpsed the magic she captured with a camera in her hands.
She stepped into the master and pointed out the features inside. The bedroom. The significance wasn't lost on him. It certainly wasn't lost on his dick. No, watching Finley walk around a bedroom, her hand sliding along the base of the elegant sleigh bed, her fingers tracing along the carved wood, took his mind straight into no man’s land. He was sure she had no idea what she was doing to him. No clue how close she was to making him beg without any conscious effort. And when her hand closed around the base of a finial on a standing lamp, he felt it below the belt.
“So, I think there's enough time and good light for me to do the bathroom, too. I have another Cuties shoot this evening.” She held up a warning hand. “He’s taken, so relax,” she stopped, her cheeks reddening, “Shay managed to talk one of the Santini brothers into posing with his fiancé's duck.” She laughed, a pure joyful noise, “A duck! Can you imagine?”
He'd laughed in return. “I'm sure it was Mira that talked Teo into it. He'd do anything for her.” He'd seen the couple at a number of the community functions, including Picnics and Petals and Prance for Paws. They’d found the same kind of love that Trey had with Sara. The kind of love he hoped Finley would want someday. With him.
“Well, if it works,” she fiddled with the camera in her hands, “good for them.” Finley bristled, as if something was touching her and she wanted it off. “I better get started.”
He watched her walk away and knew she'd closed a door on their conversation, and yet he wasn't willing to let this go. He’d gotten his foot in the door and wasn't about to let it slam without an effort.
Roman followed her into the bathroom and let out a low whistle of appreciation. “Makes me wish I made more money, I might be able to afford a house like this.”
She turned around to face him, her eyes narrowed. “Think of all the money you'd spend on cleaners.” She gestured to the brilliant white walls of the bathroom that fairly glowed in the ambient light of the noonday sun. “Or you'd have aching arms after scrubbing the tiles.”
Finley looked at his arms and he resisted the urge to flex them, even just the littlest bit. He knew that she wanted him, that wasn't the issue. What he had with Finley right now
was a smoking ember which was just as liable to go cold as it was to catch into flame. He wanted to build the fire so it would last, not reduce them to ashes.
So he let her look and he did too, using the bank of mirrors above the sink to watch her worry her lower lip between her teeth. It was an old gesture that had his mind dredging up memories from years ago. Back then she'd reach out and touch him without thinking, her fingertips tracing the edge of his cuff or bumping over his knuckles as she mulled over something in her head. She'd nibble on her lower lip, creating a soft pale line in the rosy flesh as she struggled to make her decision.
He wondered what she was considering at that moment, hoping it had something, anything, to do with him.
Her expression brightened and a moment later he had his answer.
“The sinks.”
Lifting the camera to her eye, Finley moved on to the pair of pedestal sinks against the wall, mumbling about the elegant ivory Phalaenopsis orchid blooms that bobbed on their long green stems in the stone bowl between them. She advanced and retreated from the scene, her fingers deftly adjusting the focus of her lens.
And one look at her bent over, her jeans lovingly stretched over her backside, and Roman was busy trying to find a comfortable way to stand.
#
She focused her camera on the elegantly appointed fixtures in the master bathroom. The marble pedestal sinks glowed with the hazy winter sunlight that filled the room and she fired off a few shots to capture the mood.
A matching bathtub, tucked behind a sensual fall of fabric, peeked out into view as she moved across the room. She moved one way and then another. High and low, and nothing seemed to be quite right. She hadn't lost herself in the work like she'd done earlier. Even though the room was just as silent.
But now, she wasn’t alone.
Roman was somewhere in the room behind her.
An odd sensation trailed across her neck, a gentle shiver of feeling that beckoned for warmth. Begged for the soft brush of a finger… or lips.
Her hands tightened on the camera, sliding her finger from the shutter release, tucking it against her chest as if the familiar weight of the camera would slow her heartbeat.
It didn’t.
“Do you want me to go?”
There it was, the out that she wanted. The out she would have been begging for just the other day.
But Finley shook her head and raised the camera up to her eye. “No, you can stay.” She snapped one shot, and then another. Taking a half step to the right, she crouched down a bit, taking a photo from the eye level of the person in the tub. Her shoulders tightened, a simple reflex of motion as she tried another few shots at a new angle.
“Not working for you?”
“You can tell?” Her shoulders sagged as she straightened to find a new vantage point.
“I know what it looks like when you’re searching for the ‘right’ angle, and you can’t find it. You take it personally, like it’s your fault that you can’t find it." He paused. "Maybe there’s just no ‘right’ angle.”
“And maybe,” she sighed, “it's just me.”
“You say that until you find it, and then you’re practically vibrating.”
“You talk about me like I’m some sort of force of nature.” The words hurt as they scraped through her throat, struggling to find the belief in herself that she’d need, moving forward in her life, and worrying that it wasn’t going to work.
“You are.” He paused, and she wondered if he’d meant the words or if he was just trying to make her feel better. “And since you’ve been back in town, I’ve been in real danger of being pulled under. I’m pretty sure I’m in over my head with you, Finley. I just wish I could say you felt the same way.”
Finley heard the soft scrape of laughter in his voice, and it only made the sensation worse. She heard his soft steps across the tile of the floor and turned toward the sound rather than away. She could see the wary look on his face as he closed the distance.
“I'm starting to feel a little like prey.” She tried for levity, but she was sure it had fallen short of the mark.
He looked from her face to the camera in her hands. “What did you see,” he stopped short, and she knew there was more to his question. She could see his mind working behind the solid set of his jaw and the spark in his eyes. “when you took pictures of Will?”
Finley was stunned. There was uncertainty in his voice, but it was the strain in his eyes, the narrowing of his gaze, that pulled her closer. “What do you mean?”
“You see things in people when you take their pictures.”
She leaned against the wall, her gaze roaming from his face to the camera in her hands. “How… how did you know?”
He swallowed and gave her a half smile. “Because I watched you for years.” He took a step closer, “I’ve listened to you talk to the camera.”
“Talk to the…” She narrowed her eyes at him, “I don't talk to my camera!”
He leaned on the counter and looked down at the old war horse of a camera in her hands. “Cameras,” he corrected, “before you left for art school, you had seven.”
Finley nodded. “I added a digital when I was in Germany with Russ-” she stopped short, “but this one is my favorite.”
“That's the one you used for the mirror photos.”
The Mirror Series was how she got into art school. And he'd been there the whole time she'd worked on the photographs. She’d taken photos of people, various residents of St. Helena who, like her, seemed introspective, isolated. She’d taken a photo of them through a two-way mirror, captured the way they looked at themselves. The images hadn’t been the same with everyone. Some turned to find a better angle, some looked away from the lens, some narrowed their eyes to escape the image altogether. But it was the second image that made all the difference.
The mirror had been removed, with Roman’s careful hand sliding the panel away, and there, standing right behind the frame, was someone who loved them. And it was the naked emotion born from the sight of this new face that made all the difference in their own. A wince became a sigh. Deflection became rapt joy. There had been such a profound difference in the images that most of her subjects had been reduced to tears and happy laughter.
“So?”
She looked up at him, startled to find him inches away. “So… what?”
“What did you see in Will?”
She heard the honesty in his voice and gave him the same in return.
“He’s comfortable in his skin.” The words were easy. It was only her observation after all. “Oh, don't get me wrong, the guy has an ego the size of Montana, but he wears it well.” She laughed. “And he has no problem showing his backside… Or any other part of his body-”
“What other part of his body did he show?” Roman’s words were forced through clenched teeth.
“Settle down there, big guy,” she smiled at him and felt an odd flutter in her middle. “He's like an overgrown puppy. It's probably why he handled the Dalmatians so well.”
“So he’s not on your list of possibilities?”
She closed her mouth and shook her head, keeping the gesture as small as possible since they were so close. “Roman-”
“If he is, I'd like you to reconsider-”
“Roman-”
“You have to think this through, Fin.” He looked into her eyes and she found herself unable to breathe. “This is a small town. Even if you find someone you think you'd want… you need to consider-”
“Have you ever noticed,” she began, drawing in each breath with the same care as she chose her words, “that I've never done a portrait of you?”
His shoulders tightened. “Yes.” She could see the downturn of his gaze, the narrowing of his eyes as he turned away.
“I'd like to do it,” she lifted her camera, drawing his attention, “now.”
#
He lifted his chin until he met her eyes, a twist of amusement on his lips. “Here?” He couldn't imagine wh
at kind of a portrait it would be, stuck between some fancy ass tub and marble sinks. “Think the flowers would make a good backdrop?”
Her eyes narrowed as she looked him over, then about the room, her eyes assessing the situation. “I like the light better in the shower. Go ahead, step in.”
The shower, huh?
All kinds of warning bells rang in his head, but the way she was looking at him, her eyes roving over him as if examining each inch from his head to his toes, made his skin feel hot to the touch, a bit too tight for comfort.
The chill from the tiles pricked the insoles of his feet, but it couldn't fight off the heat radiating from inside of him. When Roman looked up to ask her a question he heard the hushed clicks of her camera shutter.
He turned, his eyes following her around the room. She kept her camera between them, taking pictures.
“A little to the left. No. Maybe a step to the right.”
Roman turned slightly and she adjusted the focus on the camera. The ambient light warmed him, reflected from the hollow tile, creating waves of broken light across his body.
He reached up and opened the button at the neck of his Henley, the hunter green fabric splayed open to reveal more of his tanned skin.
As he freed the second button, he heard a soft exhale of breath from between her lips. Two more buttons followed and he saw her fingers tighten around the camera, but she continued to shoot frame after frame, the once smooth rhythm punctuated by a sudden silence.
"What are you doing?"
"What am I doing?" He pulled the hem of his shirt free from his jeans, and gave her a little peek at his stomach before he peeled the long-sleeved shirt over his head. Roman saw her face pale in the dimmed light of the room and knew he had her attention. "I thought it was only fair that you get to compare."
His palm flattened against his abs and as he slid his hand lower he heard her moan, her voice a warm counter tempo to the sound of her shutter. It may have only been a moment, but under her watchful eye, time seemed to slow. And when his fingers touched the edge of his waistband, he grabbed a hold and twisted the silver button free.
