DEADLY OBSESSION

by Kristine Cayne

  Perfect. “You’ve obviously done this a few hundred times.” Lauren smiled and raised the camera to eye level. “Now lace your hands on your stomach and lean your head back with your eyes closed. Open your eyes slowly… excellent.”

  She talked him through a few more basic poses, making minor lighting adjustments to maximize the contrasts, emphasizing his deep blue eyes, making them the focal point of the shot.

  “No, no,” Vivian scoffed. “These colors make Nic look bland.” As if. Nothing in the world could make Nic The Lover look anything less than spectacular.

  Nic laughed. “Vivian, let the woman do her job.”

  Lauren turned away and coughed to hide her grin. “We’ll start with something suave and sexy. Think James Bond.”

  She instructed Nic to twist in the chair so he could swing his left leg over the armrest and crook his left elbow over the back of the chair. He looked delectable, but his right leg and arm were still not positioned exactly how she wanted.

  Deciding it would be more effective to show than explain, she risked a glance in Vivian’s direction. Seeing the woman busy serving herself a cup of coffee, she quietly approached Nic.

  With a trembling hand, she applied a slight pressure on the back of his knee to keep it bent as she grasped his calf with her other hand, pulling it toward her to extend his leg. As the well-defined muscles shifted beneath her palm, shivers of pleasure rolled up and down her spine. Shocked, she let go and backed away. She’d dreamed of touching his smooth tanned skin, but now that she had the opportunity….

  “Please put your right hand on your thigh.” God, if she weren’t such a coward, she could have the pleasure of putting it there herself. “Now for the finishing touch.” She extracted a large silver gun from the pocket of her cargo pants. “Don’t worry, it’s fake,” she added, when she saw Vivian open her mouth.

  She placed the prop in his left hand so it dangled from his fingertips. “Now relax and smile like you’re seeing the sexiest woman in the world.”

  Lauren stared, mesmerized as Nic’s expression transformed from one of subtle amusement to one of smoldering sexual intent. His lips curved ever so slightly and a light flush colored his cheekbones. His eyelids slanted and his pupils dilated. The heat of his intense gaze was enough to melt her camera lens.

  My God, the man could act. What would it be like to have him look at her that way and mean it? His gaze filled with such lust, her stomach clenched and tumbled. This was the shot she’d been seeking. The shot that would drive women wild.

  The shot that would propel her career into the upper stratosphere.

  Quickly, she moved around him, capturing photo after photo. When she’d exhausted all the different angles, she put down her camera and eyed Nic from the tips of his black leather shoes to his silk-clad shoulders. He’d need to change his clothes for what she had in mind. She handed him a black gym bag. “Here’s your outfit for the next pose. We’re going for a dark, sexy soldier look. Give me a shout if you need help getting it on.”

  Nic burst out laughing.

  Her head jerked up. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Still chuckling, he took the bag and walked into the bathroom.

  Getting it on. The double-entendre finally dawned on her. Heat baked her face. Jeez, as if Nic The Lover would ever need help in that department. Grateful he wasn’t in the room to see her blush, she concentrated on her camera, making adjustments for the next series of shots, ignoring Vivian, who roamed around the room, examining all the equipment.

  “I couldn’t find a shirt in the bag,” Nic said, reentering the room a few minutes later, slowly swinging the shoulder holster around his finger. “Do you want me to put this on?”

  “Not yet,” she muttered as she ducked her head. Holy crap! Bare-chested, in a pair of low-slung fatigues and combat boots, Nic personified rugged hotness. How could he look even better in person?

  She handed him a small bottle of oil. “Rub this on your chest and arms.”

  “Wanna help?” he asked, grinning.

  Vivian raced forward and snatched the bottle from Nic’s hand. “I’ll do it.” She poured some of the fragrant oil into her palms and, after warming it up, began sliding her hands all over Nic’s smooth chest, his arms, and then down to his sculpted eight-pack. Judging by her expression, she enjoyed her task, perhaps a little too much.

  On the other hand, Nic didn’t seem to be affected in the least by Vivian’s ministrations. As Lauren raised her eyes to his face, she found his hungry gaze focused on her, and almost groaned. Where she’d expected to see cool amusement, she saw something hot and dark that set her skin on fire. He didn’t look away and neither did she. Blood thundered in her ears, her vision narrowed, and she became blind to everything else.

  “Nic, darling. Your pocket’s ringing,” Vivian interrupted as she finished with the oil. The mournful sounds of Daughtry’s Home finally penetrated Lauren’s trance-like state, and she tore her gaze away from him.

  Frowning, he pulled a cell phone out of his back pocket. “Sorry. I need to take this.”

  Nic sat on the bed to take the call. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the room wasn’t very big. It didn’t matter of course, because although she could hear what he was saying, she couldn’t understand much of it. The sometimes gruff, sometimes flowing tones of Nic speaking his native language washed over her, stirring something deep inside her.

  Maybe he’d interrupted her work to talk to a girlfriend, who was perhaps also the reason he’d arrived late in the first place. But she didn’t remember hearing anything about Nic having a steady girlfriend. In fact, in the magazine photos, he always had a different woman wrapped around him. Whenever he saw a reporter with a camera, he’d grab the nearest woman and kiss her. The press even had a name for these women—Paparazzi Girls.

  Nice. He’d better not try that with her.

  Nic ended the call and pressed the base of his hand between his eyes where a headache was growing. As if the stalker wasn’t enough, now he had Rachel to worry about too.

  Vivian settled next to him on the bed, her hand rubbing comforting circles on his back. “Trouble at home?” she asked.

  He shot her a narrowed glance. Vivian knew better than to bring up his private life in front of strangers. His gaze swung to the stranger in question. Concern and irritation warred in Lauren’s pretty eyes. Eyes that read right through him. Eyes that seemed to know him. Lauren opened her mouth to speak, but Vivian cut her off.

  “You look like you could use a break.” Vivian offered him the steaming mug she’d prepared earlier. “Have some coffee. One sugar, one cream. Just the way you like it, darling.”

  “Thanks, Viv. You always know what I need.” He smiled crookedly. “What about you, Lauren?”

  Her curls swung wildly as she shook her head. “I’m fine, but while you’re having your coffee, I can do your make-up.” She turned to Vivian, holding up a small face-paint kit. “He needs camo paint. Do you want to apply that too?”

  Vivian grimaced. “I’ll spare my manicure. But you go ahead, Lorna dear. From the looks of things, a manicure is the least of your concerns.”

  With a wink for Lauren, he leaned in close to Vivian’s ear. “Her name’s Lauren.”

  Her eyes focused on the various shades of green and brown she was mixing, Lauren approached the bed to stand between his legs. “I don’t want to obscure your features, so I won’t use quite the same pattern the military does.” Her fingers shook as she drew thin lines diagonally across his eyelids and brows, horizontally across his nose, and vertically across his mouth.

  As she worked, Nic checked out his cute little photographer. A tan v-neck T-shirt molded her full breasts, and baggy cargo pants accentuated the roundness of her hips. The large pockets on her thighs bulged with an endless supply of gadgets she pulled out as needed. So cute, like a grown up Girl Guide.

  Her curly hair was a beautiful light brown, what he’d call châtain in French, and her eyes were a rare blue-green. Wra
pped in his arms, the top of her head would tuck under his chin. Nic felt a stirring in his BDUs. Damn, he loved short, curvy women.

  She stepped away from him, the heat of her eyes on his face, his chest, his legs. “Rough, dangerous. Perfect,” she said, her voice husky. He imagined it would sound exactly like that if he had her underneath him. His cock hardened and he was suddenly very thankful to be sitting down.

  He cleared his throat. “Okay, what do I do now?”

  Kiss me. Had she said that? Or was that just his wishful thinking?

  “Put on the shoulder holster,” she said, destroying his fantasy.

  The experience he’d gained with military gear while working on Bad Days served him well. She watched as he expertly slipped into the holster, bolstering his flagging ego. No, he wasn’t some weenie who needed a bodyguard 24/7.

  “You’ll need these, too.” She lifted a set of military issue dog tags from around her neck.

  After reading the imprinted name, he raised an eyebrow. “Todd James. A relative of yours?”

  She nodded. “My husband. He died in Afghanistan five years ago.”

  Christ. He’d never been married, but he could imagine the pain she’d gone through. Losing a spouse at such a young age had to be devastating. He tried to hand the dog tags back to her. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, the words sounding inadequate.

  A shadow flitted across her face, but she waved his hand away. “Thank you. Now put them on.”

  He’d done a lot of acting, but this was the first time he’d felt like an impostor. He was no hero, not like her husband, a man who’d died for his country. But the brittleness in Lauren’s eyes warned him not to fight her. He slipped the tags on. They were warm from her skin.

  She smiled, but it seemed forced. “Lie down on the bed and lean against the pillows.”

  Nic hated the tension that had settled over Lauren. He wanted a real smile from her this time. Crossing the room in a couple long steps, he threw himself onto the bed. He wiggled around for a few seconds before settling down. Right on cue, Lauren laughed.

  Success. “What? This isn’t good?” he asked, feigning confusion.

  “You look great, and if I was going for a cross between GI Joe and Fabio on Barbie’s bed, this would be the perfect shot.” Amusement lit her eyes, making them glitter like topaz stones. The delight on her face kindled a fire in his chest. Seeing her smile was a better reward than a mantel full of Oscars.

  He stood while she tore the salmon-colored bedspread off. After pulling back the top sheet, she showed him where to sit and adjusted the pillows behind his back. She covered the leg that was in the middle of the bed, twisting the sheet so it snaked over his leg, leaving his black combat boot exposed.

  “Lift up your outside knee and anchor your leg with your foot,” she instructed, rushing to check the scene through the camera lens. She came back and adjusted the position of his raised knee, angling it toward the edge of the bed.

  Although her touch was light, his skin burned where her hand wrapped around his knee and he wanted her to slowly slide her fingers higher and higher and higher….

  He blew out a long breath. Rein it in, lover boy. His attraction to Lauren was explosive and he’d love nothing better than to explore it to the utmost limits. But with the stalker breathing down his neck, jealous of the women around him, the timing couldn’t be worse. He wanted to get to know Lauren, not get her killed.

  Oblivious to her effect on him, Lauren backed away and nodded. “Perfect. Now raise your right arm and grab the headboard.” She reached into one of her big cargo pockets. “I’m going to hand you a knife. Hold it in your left hand and place the blade flat on your left thigh.”

  “Lorna dear, is that really necessary?” Vivian asked, her voice coated with high-fructose corn syrup.

  Lauren made a face and gritted her teeth. “The shot won’t work without the knife.”

  Nic glanced at Vivian and frowned. “Lauren knows what she’s doing. She’s a professional.”

  Vivian flashed him a broad smile, then turned to Lauren. “Of course she is, darling.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice like venom from a viper’s fangs.

  “Viv, play nice.” She wanted the best for him, but if she didn’t tone it down a bit, she’d ruin the shoot.

  Lauren shrugged off the interruption and the insult. She unsheathed a long silver bayonet and handed it to him. As he followed her instructions, she checked the composition of the shot through her camera viewfinder. A frown marred her forehead.

  “I’m not getting this right, am I?” he asked.

  “Almost. But the knife needs to be higher.” As she leaned over his shoulder, she very slowly slid her hand along his leg, pulling his hand higher until the blade lay diagonally along his upper thigh, pointing to his groin. He sucked in a breath. His muscles quivered under the warmth of her hand, so close to where he wanted it to be. “I won’t hurt you,” she said in her low sexy voice.

  “Too late for that, ma chère.” He groaned at the thought of her hand on his cock.

  Her face coloring, she snatched her hand back and returned to her camera. “Perfect,” she said, taking shots from different angles. All of a sudden, a wave of exhaustion crashed over him. He yawned widely and his eyelids drooped. “Hey, Nic. You okay?”

  “Just tired. Vivian, could you get me some more coffee?”

  “Whatever you need, darling,” Vivian said as she went to refill his cup in the sitting area. “How much longer will this take, Lorna?

  Rolling her eyes, Lauren turned to Nic. “Just a few more shots, then we’re done.”

  Lauren picked up her camera and walked around the bed. “Lie on your side, please.”

  Grinning, he scooted his butt down, then grabbed the pillow and placed it under his head as if settling down for the night. Now that was an idea. He was so damn tired.

  “Maybe you could rest your elbow on the pillow and hold your head up?”

  Trying to get some more hands-on action, he placed his hand behind his neck, crooking his head back at an awkward angle. Her eyebrows pulled together and she shook her head. Nic swallowed a laugh. She set her camera on the nightstand and tugged on his shoulder to pull it forward. He resisted and, when she let go, rolled onto his back. Eyes closed, he lay there, waiting.

  Lauren shook his shoulder. “Nic.”

  He opened his eyes and met her concerned gaze. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d spent most of the night watching TV, but still…

  He’d never fallen asleep on the job.

  A loud commotion in the hallway startled him. Heart pounding, he jack-knifed in the bed. The door flew open and slammed against the wall. Without waiting to see who it was, he jumped up and pulled a frozen Lauren back. With the bed between her and the door, he pushed her to the floor. If the assailant had a gun, she’d be safe. Feet apart, fists clenched, he turned to face the intruder.

  CHAPTER 2

  Relief crashed over Nic when he recognized several members of the paparazzi squeezing through the door of the hotel room. He turned and helped Lauren to her feet. Her eyes were glazed with confusion. Coming here without a bodyguard had been more than stupid; it had been irresponsible. The reporters would wonder why he’d reacted so aggressively, and he absolutely didn’t want them to catch wind of his troubles with the stalker. He owed it to Vivian to turn this near fiasco into a photo op.

  There was only one solution. With a resigned sigh, he pulled Lauren close, crushing her breasts against his chest.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” she hissed. “I’m not one of your Paparazzi Girls.”

  She wasn’t happy, but what could he do? Nic The Lover always found a Paparazzi Girl when cameras were around. His gaze darted between her and the photographers standing less than ten feet away. He arched a brow.

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Do it.”

  He bent down and brushed his lips against hers. For the first few seconds, she didn’t kiss him back, but she didn’t push him away, either. Th
en, on a sigh, she leaned into him and her arms locked around his neck. His tongue darted out to taste her bottom lip. Mmm… cherry—his new favorite flavor. When her mouth opened, he didn’t hesitate.

  He dove in. And drowned.

  He’d meant this to be a quick kiss, only now he just couldn’t stop. His lips traced a path to her throat. Cupping her bottom with his hands, he lifted her up, grinding against her. She moaned. It was a beautiful sound, one he definitely wanted to hear again.

  A loud noise pierced the fog of his lust. He raised his head from where he’d been nuzzling Lauren’s apple-scented neck to tell whoever it was to fuck off, but as the sexual haze cleared, he swallowed the words. The paparazzi had gathered around, applauding and calling out crude encouragements. Some snapped photos while others rolled film. Shit. He’d pay for this fuck-up and so would she.

  His arm still around Lauren’s waist, he turned her toward the flashing lights and whispered, “Smile for the cameras, chérie.”

  She tried to struggle out of his grasp, but he held her firmly. After forcing his lips into what he hoped was a sexy half smile, he made a show of winking at her.

  “Hey Nic, who’s the new girl?” shouted one of the male reporters.

  “Lauren James is an up-and-coming photographer from Seattle.”

  “Looks like she’s not the only one who’s up and coming,” snickered someone in the back of the group. Laughter erupted.

  He ground his teeth and pasted on a cocky smile. It took only one glance in Lauren’s direction to gauge her reaction. With camo paint smeared on her neck and across her beautiful face, she appeared feral.

  “Nice makeup, Lauren,” one of the women called out.

  The paparazzi had to go. Now.

  He searched the room for Vivian. She stood, her back to the window, observing the scene with a wide smile. Agents loved this sort of publicity.

  “Vivian,” he snapped, jerking his chin toward the door.