Seducing the Photographer (At First Sight)

by Janet Lane-Walters

  “Meg, could you give me a hand?”

  Steve’s shout propelled her from the couch. Steve wheeled from the bathroom. “Can you undo the cast boot?”

  “Sure.” She loosened the Velcro straps and slid the boot free. “Where do you want this?”

  “By the bed. Hopefully I’ll be able to put it on during the night.” He moved from the chair and shifted his body on the bed. “Did you reach Allie?”

  Watching the play of his muscles as he reached the bed held her attention. “What?”

  “Your sister?”

  She shook her head. “Seems she and Greg are taking the weekend off. I wish she had told me this morning. Let me settle you before I leave.” She paused. “Is there a hotel or motel nearby?”

  "There’s a small motel but at midnight they’ll be full.”

  “What about a B&B?”

  “None."

  Her shoulders slumped. “Guess I’m heading home.” She covered her mouth with a hand to hide a yawn.

  “Stay here.” He grinned. “I won’t be jumping your bones.”

  She caught his scent and turned away. Temptation held her in a vise. “I’d better go.”

  “And have an accident. How do you think I’d feel? The guest room is down the hall.”

  Her reason to escape vanished. She could handle being along with him. Right. Wrong! For better or worse she would stay. A problem rippled through her thoughts. Her rules of life were in danger of shattering.

  Chapter Two

  Steve watched Meg disappear from sight. With a few false starts and a small gouge in the hall plaster he managed to maneuver the wheelchair to the kitchen. Silently he cursed the healing scrapes and bruises running down the right side of his back from shoulder to his hip. The one on his right upper arm had needed stitches and he wondered if the skin had split again.

  He also ached, not from the injuries, but desire. He wanted Meg. He had since the day he’d met her. He knew she had noticed how his cock had grown hard and pressed against his fly. That reaction occurred every time he encountered. He always fought the urge to take her any time and anywhere.

  He opened the refrigerator and pulled one of the items from the shelf. Allie must have left the eggs and cheese during her recent stay. Using the handle of the silverware drawer he opened a beer and took a swig. He set the bottle on the table and opened the plastic container of pain pills. Just as he was about to swallow two with beer he heard a sound and turned. Meg entered the kitchen. His body, though a field of aches, reacted.

  She moved closer and looked from the beer to the pills. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  “Would you care?” He watched the play of emotions sweep over her face. He grinned. When she didn’t answer a surge of hope swamped him. Hope? He wanted her in his bed for a romp and a way to scratch an itch.

  He closed his eyes. Just how interested was she? He recalled the kiss. She had responded. Her erect nipples had pressed against his chest. If he didn’t act like an ass he might lure her into his bed. For a time. He’d figure how long after he’d had her.

  “Here.” She thrust a glass of water into his hand. “You should be in bed. If your leg was elevated and your arm supported by pillows you would have less pain.”

  While he chased the pills with a glass of tap water he watched her finish his beer. She pushed him into the bedroom and waited while he slid onto the king-sized bed. She supported the cast and used a pillow to elevate his leg. She used another to support his arm.

  “You’re good at this,” he said.

  “As you know I have two brothers who get themselves into accidents.”

  He reached for the phone. “Have to make a call.”

  “At midnight?”

  “Need to leave a message for my sister. She’s an ICU nurse and keeps her answering machine on at all times. She listens to the messages and only answers the ones she wants.” He tapped the number and paused before speaking. “I’m home. Call tomorrow. I know you’re at work so I’ll manage. Do not send Ben.”

  “Have a problem with him?”

  “Love the boy but not as a caregiver. He’s my thirteen year old nephew and a disaster in sneakers.”

  Meg stared at the wall. “If you need a caretaker I could stay until Sunday evening.” She clapped her handover her mouth.

  Steve laughed. She hadn’t meant to offer. He liked the red flush on her face. She’d jumped, not into his bed, but close enough. He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. The red spread to her neck. By Sunday with luck he would see how far her blush extended. He winked. “Could you help me undress?” Her quick intake of breath and pursed lips made him grin. “You’re safe. I can’t chase you around the room. I’m at your mercy.”

  She edged closer and untied the sling supporting his shoulder and arm. “Oh,” he gasped.

  “Did that hurt?” She brushed her fingers over his arm and shoulder.

  “A bit but your touch helps. You could kiss it and make it better.”

  “You are full of it.” She reached for the bottom of his tee shirt.

  As her fingers skimmed over his abdomen he sucked in a breath. Being unable to act on his wants was going to kill him. “Meg,” he growled.

  Mischief gleamed in her blue eyes. “I won’t hurt you.” She trailed her hand over his chest as she raised the shirt. She drew the short over his uninjured arm and his head. Carefully she eased the cloth from his right arm. She gasped. “Those are some nasty bruises.”

  “I can feel them but the only ones I’ve seen are the ones on my arm. The doctors in Nome said I was healing and should exercise. You could help me.” Her blush sent heat to his groin.

  Her hands hovered over the waistband of his sweats. “I suppose you want these off.”

  He nodded. “Skin’s my choice for sleep. And yours?”

  Her face turned scarlet. “I won’t remove your underwear.” She inched the pants over his hips.

  He groaned. If she didn’t hurry they would hang up on his cock. When his black boxers and his desire were exposed her mouth gaped.

  “It’s all me,” he drawled.

  She tugged the sweats over his feet and pulled the sheet over him. “Night.” She bolted from the room.

  “What, no good night kiss?” he called. One chance gone but tomorrow would bring more. In the morning he would tempt some of the rules of life she followed. He’d heard her brothers’ joke about Meg’s Rules of Life.

  What if he failed? Not a chance.

  He shifted in the bed until he found a more comfortable position. What would Meg be like in bed? He slid into a fantasy inspired by the kiss they’d shared. How she’d found the strength to break free surprised him. Without her help he might have made his way to the building but not to bed. With his body screaming for release he slid into the nightmare plaguing him since the fall.

  Just one more shot. He stepped back. His foot slipped on a rock. He fell and slid down the slope heading for a cluster of rocks. “Help!” he shouted.

  “What’s wrong?”

  The voice was Meg’s. He opened his eyes and saw this wasn’t part of a dream. “Nightmare. I fell down the mountain again.”

  Meg stood at the foot of the bed. She wore a silky thing that reached the middle of her thighs. Her long tanned legs were nicely shaped. As she moved closer he noticed the way the fabric clung to her breasts. “Do you always wear things like that to bed?”

  “Do you have a problem with my choice?”

  He sat up. “Actually I hoped you preferred skin but this isn’t bad. Except I can’t move. Want to tuck me in and kiss me good night. Would keep the bad dreams away.”

  On her way to the door she glanced over her shoulder. “I may be tempted but I’m strong. Good night. Sweet dreams.”

  “With you as the centerfold they will be.” Sweet dreams, no way. They were going to be spicy.

  * * *

  Meg retreated to the guest room. She sat on the edge of the bed and covered her burning face with her hands. W
hy hadn’t she grabbed her robe before answering his cry for help? The shout had been so full of panic and desperation she’d feared he’d fallen out of bed. Why wasn’t she like Allie who wore overly large jerseys for bed? Meg knew the answer. She loved the feel of silk against her skin. At least this one was opaque. Why had she felt naked beneath his stare? His gaze had sent embers glowing low in her belly.

  She groaned. Just down the hall was a man with who had caused her to shiver with desire. He was ready for hot and heavy. She’d seen the way his erection had tented the sheets. She had to remain cool. She was tired of walking in the wrong direction on a one way street.

  She slid beneath the sheets and added new rules specific to this situation. One. Do not think about the kiss making you burn and your toes curl. Two. Do not drool over his buff body. Three. Do not give into the itch to stroke his tanned skin. Four. Do not consider passionate love-making.

  Except she wanted to break the rules. She closed her eyes. As she drifted to sleep she recited her old rules and added the new.

  Bright sunlight woke her. For a moment she settled against the pillows and sought a return to her dreams. Then she remembered where she was. Once again she had leaped but she hadn’t fallen. Still, she had promised she would stay.

  She grabbed clothes from the overnight case and hurried to the bathroom. After a quick shower she donned a pale blue silk tee shirt and dark blue silk shorts. When she reached the kitchen she found beer, some cheese, eggs and in the freezer coffee and frozen cinnamon rolls. Her stomach growled. She needed breakfast.

  She put the rolls in the microwave to defrost and started coffee. A quick look in Steve’s room relieved her. A soft snore meant he slept. She saw the pain pill container and knew he’d be out for a time. The yearning to wake him with a kiss held her frozen in the doorway. With reluctance she backed away. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. That thought brought tears to her eyes. In everyway but one he was perfect. She dashed to the kitchen and drank a mug of coffee and ate a cinnamon roll. With her purse in hand and the key he’d given her she would find food and return.

  After walking up the hill she turned the corner and found The Coffee Mug. If her sister hadn’t told her about the coffee shop and bakery the delicious aromas would have led her inside. She entered and selected a dozen pastries and two loaves of bread. As she paid her bill she heard two women talking.

  “Patty Sue has new stock,” one said.

  “Guess where I’m headed next,” the other said.

  Meg made a decision. Surely Steve would wait. She glanced at her watch. Was the boutique open? She would check. If not she would return. She grabbed her package and strode down the street.

  Five minutes later she opened the shop door and fell instantly in lust. The lingerie display captured her complete attention. The hand-painted and embroidered bra and panty sets, the silk night shirts she preferred and some more daring styles made her salivate. Though she hadn’t planned to buy, before ten minutes had passed she packed a stack of have-to-have items on the counter.

  The woman at the cash register smiled. “You have to be Allie’s sister.”

  “You must be Patty Sue. Allie told me about you. She said your shop was sensational and she was right.”

  Patty Sue laughed. “You’re a bigger spender than your sister. Have a man to wear these for?”

  Did she? Not if she followed her old and new rules of life. Were the new ones like New Year’s resolutions die to be trashed five minutes after they’d been made? “Nothing says a woman has to dress for a man. I like the flow of silk over my skin.”

  The owner nodded. “Now that’s an attitude I like.”

  Megan leaned against the counter. “I was wondering if you would agree to have some of your lingerie featured in Good Lookin’. I’d use them in the February issue. If you agree one of our photographers will visit and take pictures of my choices.”

  “It’s only August.”

  “I know but the issues are planned six months in advance.”

  Patty Sue shook her head. “Doesn’t that confuse you?”

  “A bit.” Meg slapped her credit card on the counter. “Do you have any for men?”

  The woman reached beneath the counter and pulled out a large box. “Just happen to have designed a few. These will be on my shelves by Thanksgiving.” She displayed silk briefs and boxers in a variety of colors. All were hand-painted.

  Megan lifted black briefs with a dragon motif. Steve’s muscular body flowed into her thoughts. He would fit them perfectly. Her attempt to delete the picture failed. She sucked in a breath. Her rules had become a fragile barrier between sanity and madness. Could she keep them?

  Patty Sue pushed the credit card slip across the counter. “I also do exclusives when someone has an idea.”

  Meg laughed. “You don’t have to sell me. Would you sign a release that you won’t let word of the project slip to anyone? Recently I had an exclusive leaked to a rival magazine.”

  “No problem. I’ll sign yours and you can sign for what you’ve bought.”

  “Done.” Meg pulled the form from her purse. Moments later she carried the purchases from the shop. She walked back to the complex and let herself into Steve’s unit.

  He pushed the wheelchair into the living room. All he wore were the black boxers. Her mouth went dry.

  “Thought you deserted me.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. Went out to find food for you. There was coffee and a roll I ate. There are eggs. Your cupboards are bare.”

  He shrugged. “I was away and seldom cook. The coffee smells great. Allie must have left it in the freezer. What did you buy?”

  “Sweet rolls. Bread. I’ll need to buy some cold cuts and other things.”

  He arched a brow. “Looks like you found more than food. Care to model?”

  The thought of him seeing her in the lingerie she’d bought stirred thoughts she didn’t want to reveal. She feared her burning cheeks gave the information she tried to hide. “Use your imagination.”

  “I am.” He leaned forward. “I could look and not touch.”

  Temptation waved a hand. Her nipples tightened and a throbbing began to spread through her body. If she wore any of the nightclothes, bras of panties she’d purchased he would see how he stirred her. She filled two mugs with coffee and popped several sweet rolls in the microwave for a quick heat. She sat at the table across from Steve. “We need to make a list so I can go to the store.”

  “I want to take a shower.”

  “How?” She pointed to the cast. “If water gets inside after a couple of days you’ll smell like a garbage dump.”

  “Plastic wrap, a large plastic bag and duct tape.”

  “Might work. The choice is yours.” She felt her face heat. How could she help him shower without wanting what he made her desire? As she thought about a nude Steve she gulped. Her rules of life. What were they?

  * * *

  Steve glanced at Meg. Her flush slowly faded. What was she thinking? Could he learn? He finished a second roll. “Meg, my shower.”

  She lifted one of the metal chairs with a padded plastic seat and back. “This should work.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t push the wheelchair into the shower and you’ll need to sit.”

  “If a shower is too much work you could give me a bed bath.”

  “With ice water.”

  He laughed. “Wouldn’t work. The shower’s big enough for two. We could share.”

  “Not happening.”

  Her quick response made him nod. She was interested. He had to stir the embers into flames. How often did her rules of life kick in? If he could neutralize them he would find everything he hoped for. He groaned.

  Concern filled her blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m in pain.” Laughter lurked in his throat.

  “Where are the pain pills? Is the cast too tight? I remember how the doctor warned my dad when my brothers had casts.”

  He met her ga
ze. “Wrong kind of pain. Step closer and I’ll explain.”

  “Said the spider. Not going to happen.” She carried the chair away.

  A short time later she pulled a roll of plastic wrap from the cupboard and found a plastic bag, scissors and the duct tape. When she ripped a large piece of the wrap from the roll the material count to itself and formed a crumpled mass. “I hate this stuff.” She placed it on the table and fought to untangle and smooth the wrap.

  “There’s a trick. Pull it slow and easy.” He winked. “Slow can be fun.” When he saw her scarlet face and throat he imagined rosy breasts with darker nipples. He shook his head. He’d better play this cool or she would have him begging for the threatened ice bath.

  She knelt and applied the clinging plastic to his cast. He shifted in the chair. His shaft engorged. How could she fail to notice his reaction to her? He wished his leg had mended so he could control the situation. Did he really want that? If he hadn’t broken the bone he wouldn’t have this time with her.

  She slipped the plastic bag over his cast and taped it just above his knee. She touched his lower thigh. Higher. Higher. The words formed but with a huge dollop of self-control she refrained. She rose and moved behind him. “The scrapes are nearly healed. The bruises are multi-colored and healing. You’ll need to have those stitches removed soon.”

  Inside the large room she halted the wheelchair. She placed a towel on the seat of the chair. When he stood she held a large bath towel.

  “Once you’re in the shower, lower your boxers and sit. I’ll pull them off. Just keep a good hold on the towel.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “You’ll be stuck in here for a long time.”

  He grinned. “Won’t you even peek?”

  “Never.”

  “Damn.” He sat on the kitchen chair and dropped his boxers. He glanced up and chuckled. Meg’s face glowed. Her eyes were tightly closed.