by Jill Shalvis
“Just me.” Rafe had stopped taking pictures and had come close. “You’re cold,” he said, and when she shivered—not because she was cold, but because he spoke near her ear and it sent a wave of something hot and hungry down her spine—he glided his hands up and down her arms. “I have everything I need, let’s go.”
But he was still touching her. His hands were on her arms. His body had leaned in, so that she felt the hard rock at her back and his hard body at her side. He’d done it in a gesture meant to warm, but it was doing something else entirely.
“Rafe—”
“You’ve got goose bumps bigger than the snowflakes.” He pulled his sweater over his head, leaving him in a plain dark blue T-shirt, and offered the sweater to her. “Here.”
She stared at it. “This would make interesting pages. Hero offers sweater to the woman who’s not who she said she was.”
“Is work always on your mind?”
“Yes,” she said honestly, while he tugged his sweater over her head. The inside still held his body heat, his scent and she hugged her arms to herself to keep it close. The arms of the sweater went past the tips of her fingers and when he pulled the body of it down her torso, his fingers brushed her sides, her hips, her thighs where the bottom of the sweater hit.
Yes, work always had been on her mind.
Up until now, that is.
But she didn’t say that, didn’t feel like exposing herself to him any further. By the time he stepped back just a little, his hands still on her waist, her body tingled from head to toe and it had nothing, nothing at all, to do with the weather.
“Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
His fingers squeezed just a little, making her realize something else. He was touching her for the first time, not as her photographer, but as a man.
And yet she was smart enough to know this wasn’t reality. Reality was home with her laptop frantically trying to get her pages done. Reality was being yelled at by a shortsighted studio executive who wanted bland, stupid characters.
She had to admit, though, that the scenery out here was damn inspiring. She should reassess that whole home-office thing—
“What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.
“That if I had my laptop right this minute I could do my pages in a third of the time I usually take.”
He blinked, then slowly shook his head. Finally, he let out a little laugh and scratched his head. “You’re still thinking about work.”
“Aren’t you?”
He just looked at her for a moment, and her heart took yet another leap.
She wasn’t even sure the poor organ could take it. “Rafe—” She let out a laugh that sounded nervous even to her ears. “If you’re waiting for the kiss you told me Amber gave you every time you worked together—”
“I made that up.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to shake you up.”
Now her laugh sounded just plain shaky. “Well, you did that, all right. You shook me up so much I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“I didn’t think I would be sorry for telling you that lie, but I am.”
“I’m…not holding a grudge.”
“I’m glad—”
Then, in a move that shocked her, he invaded her space—he had quite a habit of doing that and, she had to admit, she liked it. He spread both hands wide on her back, pulled her close, stared down into her eyes and covered her mouth with his.
Hot, wet and deliciously deep for one beat, he pulled away all too quickly, then stepped back so that his hands fell away from her. “There. Now we’re even.”
“Right.” With little to no encouragement, she would have asked him for another. Hell, she might even have begged.
But he’d already turned away.
Interlude over.
Which was a good thing. Back to that reality she’d so conveniently forgotten about.
For both of them.
8
RAFE AND STONE SAT in Rafe’s backyard, at the patio table, looking at the proofs they’d spread out in front of them. January through April.
January and February with Amber were good, taken before she’d gone off to who-knows-where with who-knows-whom. They would fit into the calendar as planned.
Then there was March. Emma in Kauai in that sheer white number, her lush body surrounded by lush forest in a way that would make a grown man drool.
Rafe sure as hell was drooling.
Then there was April, and the desert shots. In that so-called hiking outfit she’d defined the word sexy. He looked at the very last shot he’d taken that day, where there’d been just a hint of a come-hither smile. He’d caught her just before she’d opened her mouth to nab a snowflake on her tongue.
Her innocent senusualness had driven him to dream about her all week. It was hard to concentrate on getting his new life in order, including finding some nice women to date, when all he could think of was Emma.
Not that she wasn’t nice, but she was not what he was looking for. First of all, she was in the business. The Hollywood business.
He knew it was wrong of him to judge her on that alone, but the fact remained that he knew what it did to a person. And he wanted out.
Then there were her little workaholic tendencies. Admirable that she worked so hard, but damn it, he’d worked hard for so many years. Now that he planned on cutting back, he wanted a woman he could actually see on a regular basis. Wanted someone who could and would give her all to both her job and a relationship.
Thinking that he might be judging her unfairly, he’d actually tried to contact her to talk. She hadn’t been available and hadn’t returned his call.
Not exactly a good sign.
“What do you think?” Stone asked.
“Not bad.”
Stone laughed softly. “Not bad, my ass. Those shots in Kauai, and especially those in the desert—they’re the best ones I’ve seen you do, and I’ve seen you do plenty.”
“The ones of Amber aren’t bad, either.”
“Nope, but Emma is better.” Stone grinned. “You don’t think Amber would be pissed to see these side by side? She’s going to know, too, though don’t count on her admitting it.”
Amber would know; she had an eye for such things.
“Are we set for the next shot?” Stone asked. “Local, right?”
“Poolside.” Rafe looked around him. “Right here, as a matter of fact.”
Stone nodded. “I could use a week off from traveling.”
So could Rafe. The cat that had been asleep in his lap lifted its head and looked around sleepily. Her brown-gray fur stuck up in spots and was missing in others. “Meow.”
Stone’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe you kept that mangy thing.”
“She kept me.” Rafe looked down at the cat.
The cat stared back at Rafe, then jumped down and padded over to a set of two bowls by the steps leading inside. One had water, the other was empty. She looked back at him balefully.
“I just fed you, Puddles.”
“Puddles?” Stone repeated.
Stone shrugged. “She’s the color of one.”
“A mud puddle, maybe.”
The cat batted at the empty bowl.
Rafe sighed and looked at Stone. “She’s a bottomless pit, I swear.”
Stone grimaced. “She needs a bath.”
“She’s not exactly fond of water.”
“She’s not exactly the cute little puppy you’d planned on, either,” Stone noted.
He grinned helplessly. “I keep showing her the door and she keeps refusing to get out.”
“It’s a cat,” Stone said. “You put your foot to its butt and push.”
He’d thought about it, especially that first night when she’d demanded to go out at three in the morning. He’d just fallen asleep when she’d started in again, from the outside this time, wanting back in. They’d had a little discussion that night, and ever since, she’
d been more considerate about her hours.
And he couldn’t resist opening his door to her when she asked to come in.
Stone tapped his fingers on the pictures. “Forget the cat. These are good. Damn good. We’re well on our way to a great project. I think we can finish the entire fantasy calendar in the scheduled time.”
“Depends on the model situation.”
“You mean, if Amber comes back and pulls her usual shit on us?” Stone shook his head. “Maybe you’ll get smart and keep the right woman working for us.”
Rafe laughed mirthlessly. “The right woman?”
“Okay, maybe not necessarily the right one, but definitely the easy one. Emma.” Stone skimmed his gaze over the pictures again and let out a low whistle. “Man, she is something. You are going to go for it, right?”
“Why?”
Stone cocked a brow. “Because if you don’t…maybe I will.”
Rafe tried to decide why that bugged him so much. “Why?”
Stone laughed. “Because she’s nice on the eyes. Because she can hold a conversation and doesn’t appear to be chemically dependent. Do you have any idea how rare that combination is in our business?”
Yes, damn it. He did. He tried to shrug it off, say to Stone, What the hell, do whatever you want. But the words wouldn’t come.
“You going to tell me to back off or not?” Stone asked.
“Not.” But he ground his back teeth together at the look of glee on Stone’s face. “Okay, wait. Back off.”
“You hate models. You hate seeing people within the business. You hate—”
“She’s not a model. And she’s only sort of in the business.”
“She’s a writer, for God’s sake. That’s even worse, Rafe. They work all night, they talk to themselves and they’re all a little nuts.”
“Then, you won’t mind leaving her the hell alone,” Rafe said, refusing to acknowledge Stone’s laugh. He stared at the damn cat, who’d hopped off his lap and was busy sniffing around the wildflowers on the outskirts of his lawn. He tried to focus on the mangy thing, but all he could see was Stone’s annoying grin. “What is so damn funny?”
“You like her.”
“What is this, high school?”
“You really like her.”
“We need to pick one of those pics for April.”
“Admit it,” Stone said.
“Stone?”
He was still grinning. “Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
JUST AS KAUAI HAD, Joshua Tree threw Emma off.
Normally, her life was a series of routines. Up at six, she would shower, grab a bagel and either head into the studio for meetings or sit at home and write.
And write. Stopping only for scheduled breaks to feed herself and tend to business.
Lately, though, she’d been doing this with one eye on the page count, forcing herself to finish just one more page before she could get up and check e-mail. Just one more page before she could check the weather channel for the heck of it.
Apparently, she’d become afflicted with a serious attention deficit disorder. Because of her newfound tendency to leap on any diversion, all phones were pointedly ignored until lunchtime when, over a cup of noodle soup, she’d return the necessary calls.
And ignore any others, such as those from her mother.
After lunch, she had to exert tremendous discipline to sit and write, not getting up until it was time for dinner—whatever frozen dinner she had in her freezer—and watching E!, That’s Hollywood or some other gossipy celebrity show to which she had a secret addiction.
Before her stint as a model, she would usually write some more after dinner, until her eyes closed right there in her chair, and exhausted, she’d drop into bed. Now, more often than not, Emma simply stared at the blinking cursor, her thoughts shifting from plot problems in her script to how incredibly sexy she had felt posing for Rafe, knowing that he had watched her. Not Amber, but her. Funny how for most of the day she could keep the erotic thoughts at bay—or at the very least channel them into some steamy dialogue and even steamier actions for her characters.
But when night came, she only saw Rafe, intense and demanding, staring at her, wearing next to nothing, through the lens of his camera.
Emma wondered what her mother would think of the fact that she’d impersonated Amber on a photo shoot in less clothing than one might see in a Playboy ad…
And that Emma had liked it…
And was secretly hoping to do it again…
Would her mother still prefer Emma over Amber? Or would she think Emma had forsaken her brains for beauty and give up on her, too? For the first time she could remember, Emma didn’t care what her mother thought. She just wanted to feel that sexy, that sensual, again. She wanted Rafe’s hot gaze traveling all over her….
Lord, it was official, she’d lost her mind. She’d gone off her routine; she’d gone off the deep end.
She wanted to pose again. More than she wanted to work.
Which was why she hadn’t called Rafe back. She’d be crazy to do it again. Crazy.
So when the phone rang and her caller ID said “R. Delacantro,” her heart nearly stopped. But her finger hit the on button before she could prevent herself. “Hello,” she said, trying to sound normal when her heart was now beating so loudly, he surely could hear it.
He paused. “Emma.”
“Yes.”
He let out a breath. “Thought so.”
Only her mother had ever been able to tell them apart on the telephone. That had led to some interesting escapades when they were children, and even more when they’d been teens. Girlfriends, boyfriends, teachers…they’d fooled everyone.
“Were you trying to reach Amber?”
“Yes,” he said.
Oh. That deflated her a bit. “She’s—”
“No, wait.” He blew out a breath. “Hell. I called a few days ago.”
“I…know. To talk to Amber?”
“I’ve learned to personally call her before a job,” he said. “To make sure she’s going to be there on time. It’s poolside, you got the memo?”
So he hadn’t called for her. “Yes.”
“I have no idea which of you is coming tomorrow…”
“Amber promised to be there.”
“Ah.”
The tension that was always between them, the tension she knew was purely sexual—at least on her part—shimmered so thickly she could hardly breathe. She waited for him to say something, anything.
Why don’t you come instead, Emma would be nice.
Or It’d be nice to see you again.
But he didn’t say either.
And she didn’t say anything.
And after she’d hung up, she stared blindly at her computer for several moments.
Then she picked up the phone and called Amber. While it rang, she practiced her speech.
You’ve got to come back.
I’m swamped at work and can’t help you anymore.
Your photographer is doing things to my insides and I can’t take it.
“Hello?” Amber said, sounding just a little breathless, as if she’d run to find the phone.
Or as if she was busy being seduced by Ricardo.
“Amber.” Emma squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember the speech. You’ve got to come back. I’m swamped at work and can’t help you anymore.
Your photographer is doing things to my insides and I can’t take it.
Simple.
“You’ve got a shoot tomorrow,” she heard herself say. “Poolside. Need me to handle it for you?”
9
“OH MY GOD,” Amber cried. “Emma, you are the best sister ever! I’ve been trying to figure out how to call you and ask, but I didn’t know how. You wouldn’t mind, really?”
Emma thunked her head down on her desk. What the hell was wrong with her? How hard would it have been to say what she’d rehearsed?
And why had her brain refused to say it,
instead offering to traipse over to Rafe’s house and put on a little bikini and let herself go through the agony of another shoot?
“No,” she said a little too fast. “I wouldn’t mind. Amber…do you really call me Queen Emma behind my back?”
Amber laughed. “Well, you have to admit, it suits you.”
“How so?” she asked indignantly.
“So serious, so anal—And I mean that in the most loving way. Seriously, Emma. It’s a compliment. And I’m so glad you’re willing to hang in there with Rafe. You’re such a good sport! Kenny and I are really having a time here.”
“I thought his name was Ricardo.”
“Oh! Well…I met Kenny a few days ago and…”
Forehead still on her desk, Emma shook her head while her sister rambled on about why she’d ditched Ricardo and how “yummy” Kenny was.
“I’m sure I’ll be home by the following shoot,” Amber finally said, whispering now. “Besides, my agent’s been calling. I have a few TV auditions lined up—can you believe it?”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because Kenny wants to break into modeling and no one is biting. He’s depressed. I don’t want him to hear how successful I am.”
Emma kept her eyes closed. “That’s very sweet of you.”
“I know. If he knew how amazing this calendar of me was going to be, he’d be green with jealousy.”
Amber’s calendar.
Not Emma’s, though after tomorrow she’d have done more of it than Amber had. She sighed. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got work.”
“Like always.”
Emma ignored that because…well, because it was true. She always had work. Without it, she was…Actually, she’d worked so long and so hard, she had no idea who she was without it.
She thought about that for the rest of the night as she worked like mad so that she could take the next day off without worrying about it.
Then she woke up at the crack of dawn to work some more.
Or more correctly, to stare at a blank screen some more. Kauai and Joshua Tree had given her great inspiration, and she’d indeed enjoyed taking her characters into uncharted territory.
Sexy and wild territory.
The problem was, she’d used her recent experiences to build up the sexual tension, but now it was time to…consummate. She’d written love scenes before, plenty of times. She’d even had her own sexual relationships but they’d always lacked something. All the candles and soft music in the world couldn’t make a love scene work if the chemistry wasn’t there.
