light touch to her ear. But as for her, no. She had no idea what she was doing.
“Come on, Emma,” he said silkily. “Let’s do this. All in the name of your…research.”
Right. All in the name of research.
10
RAFE LED EMMA through his house. He’d gotten used to the mostly bare rooms that were waiting for him to make them his own. He wondered what she would think.
Emma was quiet as they walked through the empty living room, but when they passed the equally empty dining room, she said, “You do live here, right?”
“Yeah, I know, it’s hard to tell. That’s going to change after this calendar.”
“Why?”
“I’m getting off the circuit.”
“You’re retiring?”
“From Hollywood, yes.” He took her down a hallway, stark except for a stack of framed pictures leaning against the walls that he’d taken over the years but hadn’t yet hung.
When they got to the den, she smiled. “Ah. I can see you’ve claimed one room, at least.”
She was right. Here, in the large room with the high, opened-beamed ceiling, he had a big-screen TV and sound system against one wall and the largest sectional couch on the market against the other-one on which he could make his six-foot-two-inch frame comfortable.
The other two walls were all windows, looking out his backyard and pool, which he’d hosed down and cleaned earlier in anticipation of this shoot. The previous owner had grown a lush garden of wildflowers and trees bordering the grass, with brick paths and stone benches surrounded by pots of more flowers.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, going to the glass. “I can see why you wanted to shoot here.”
“The calendar calls for a pool shot.” He walked up behind her and took in the same view. “I figured, why not here.” Her hair tickled his nose and the scent of her filled his senses. He knew he was tempting fate to do this without a crew, but he had wanted to see what would happen, if, after a couple of weeks of this teasing, he’d still feel attracted.
He did. “Are you ready to do this?”
When she nodded, he retrieved the Nordstrom bag he’d had on a kitchen table.
She swallowed. “The costume?”
“The costume,” he confirmed, and reached into the bag.
When he dangled the black crocheted bikini from his fingers, she swallowed again but took it from him, her fingers entangling with his for one brief moment.
Holding on, he squeezed hers. “When you look at me like that, you drive me crazy.”
“Look at you like…what?”
“Where should I change?”
“Emma-”
“I’m doing this, Rafe. I promised I would, and-”
“And…?”
“And I want to.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. After all, he didn’t want her to back out. He showed her to the bathroom and then went outside with his camera, not wanting to think about what he had to do, which was look at her in a bikini for at least an hour.
He tinkered with his equipment, setting up near the edge of the pool, with the hills in the background. There was a metallic silver float drifting on the water. He wanted her there, face down, hands together beneath her chin, legs slightly apart, drifting away from him. He’d pictured it long before he’d ever met Emma, knowing how perfect, how mouthwatering the shot would be.
What he hadn’t known was how exciting Emma would be, personally. He had the camera on the tripod and was playing with his settings when he heard the sliding glass door open behind him.
His pulse tripled but he kept his concentration on the camera, telling himself this was ridiculous, he’d taken hundreds,
There was a light breeze, which maybe would cool him off. His hair lifted from his damp forehead as the water slapped against the tiles.
Just another regular day of work.
He heard the pad of her bare feet as she came close, and with a little grimace, he lifted his head.
Any cooling effects from the breeze vanished.
The black crocheted bikini fit her as if it’d been made for her, lovingly cupping her full breasts, between her thighs, the yarn stretching, giving him peekaboo hints of creamy skin beneath.
She stopped about five feet away. Too far to touch her or smell her. Too far to see the pulse at the base of her neck, to judge if she was as affected as he.
But the puckered tips of her nipples, almost but not quite poking through the black string of her top, told him the truth.
Even as it nearly killed him.
He knew from that day in Kauai, when she’d worn nothing more than damp white silk, exactly how gorgeous she was; how full and high her breasts were even without support; how the color of her nipples was that of a perfect rosebud. When those nipples were aroused, as they were now, they made his knees weak.
Just standing there looking at her, he felt his body tighten. Painfully so.
He also knew from that day on that lush, wet island, when she’d worn nothing but a tiny strip of a thong, that she’d had to have either shaved or waxed her bikini line. He pictured her doing that this morning in preparation for this shoot, but the thought nearly undid him and his cargo shorts became a torture chamber.
Was she as wet as he was hard? If he tugged those bottoms loose from her body, preferably with his teeth, would he see just how wet?
“How’s this?” she asked, sounding just breathless enough to make him want to groan.
“Good.” His voice came out hoarse so he cleared his throat. “Damn good. So good I’m not sure I’ll remember how to use the camera.”
She put a hand to her belly as if nervous. “You probably say that to all your models.”
He shook his head.
“No?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“Never. I’ve never had any trouble concentrating on a shoot before,” he told her. “But I’m having trouble now.”
She dragged her bottom lip across her teeth. “It’s probably wrong to admit this, but seeing as we’re being so open…I like that you’re having trouble.” Her breathing wasn’t close to steady. “I should be taking notes, writing down all my jumbling emotions and body’s reactions to you for my research, but honestly, I can’t think clearly enough for that.”
Research. Right. Grateful for the reminder that she was here for that, he pointed to the metallic float. “That’s the prop.”
“What about makeup?”
“You’re going to be facing away from the camera.” He tossed her a bottle of baby oil. “Slick up first so the water will bead off you.”
Eyes on his, she opened the bottle and squirted the oil onto her palm. Slowly she began to spread it onto her skin-her legs, her arms, her belly, her chest, her back.
