“While celebrities are accustomed to being photographed, they wear their public personas like a mask. I became interested in what made them tick.”
“And did you find out?”
“It often took a long time. I took thousands of photos in a session and often wore them down to the point of exhaustion. It becomes difficult to maintain a facade as the mind grows tired.” From the expression on his face, he’d gone to a moment far away from this hotel bar. “The photos I took in the minutes after we wrapped were sometimes the most fascinating pictures of the day. But they weren’t magazine quality. They were for me and my subjects.”
His deep voice had drawn her into his tale, and she caught herself leaning forward to catch his every word. Shocked to realize she’d dropped her guard, Sammi straightened her spine. Her breath gave a little hitch as her retreat caused his gaze to glance off hers.
Wondering what he’d glimpsed in her eyes, Sammi cleared her throat. “So you showed them the photos?”
“I print one, something that captured their essence and revealed their true nature, and deliver it.” Oliver sounded as indifferent as if he discussed the weather. “It’s up to them to decide what to do with the picture.”
Sammi shivered as a fanciful notion took root. Some cultures believed that taking a person’s photograph was like stealing their soul. For someone who’d spent her life in front of a camera, she’d always kept her emotions hidden and portrayed what the client wanted to see. She’d never observed a single image of herself that came close to exposing all she was.
What would Oliver Lowell lay bare?
“Having your greatest vulnerability captured...” Sammi shuddered. “That sounds terrifying.”
He nodded in understanding. “For some it can be.”
Sammi thought this sounded presumptuous of him. No doubt growing up in an affluent family left him indifferent to what others might struggle with. Through this entire encounter her perception of Oliver had been shifting. At first, she’d been thrilled that her teenage crush had finally noticed her, but she was fast discovering that he possessed more layers than she’d imagined.
“So, what do you say?” he prompted, breaking into her troubled thoughts.
“About?”
“Letting me take your photo?”
Sammi thought about the difficult evening that stretched before her once she returned to the apartment she shared with her mother. Explaining that Ty had broken up with her would result in a lengthy lecture on her foolishness. Celeste was obsessed with financial security and saw her daughter’s relationship with a successful ad executive as a positive thing. In fact, without her mother’s pushing, Sammi would have ended things with Ty long before his resentment had led him to grow abusive.
“I don’t know,” she hedged, conscious that she’d already made her decision.
“You can trust me.”
And in a moment of sudden and shocking clarity, Sammi realized she did. “It occurred to me that I probably can’t afford what you normally charge to photograph people. Just out of curiosity, what do you charge for these private portrait sessions?”
“Usually a hundred thousand dollars.”
“Seriously?” She gaped at him. “No offense, but why are people willing to pay so much?”
“Privacy.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “I show them something no one else has captured before. Something they might not wish the world to see.” His self-assurance hummed like a high-voltage wire. Get too close to this man and it might prove fatal. “They are paying for my integrity. No picture I take of them will never find its way into the public domain unless they choose to release it.”
She gusted out a breath. “Well, I guess that means that this photo shoot isn’t going to happen, because I don’t have a hundred thousand dollars to give you.”
“I didn’t expect you did.” He gestured toward her purse. “How much money do you have with you?”
“Let’s see.” Sammi pulled out her wallet. “Twenty-three dollars.” She pulled out the bills and flashed them.
Oliver plucked the bills from her hand and stuffed them into his jacket pocket. “Then for twenty-three dollars, I will take one picture of you.”
“Photographers take hundreds to get the perfect shot,” she said, knowing he was doing her a favor but unable to stop herself from pushing back. Earlier when he’d spoken of capturing the essence of his subjects, she’d been both intrigued and filled with skepticism. Most people guarded their true selves and reluctantly gave up their dark secrets to their shrinks, much less allowed them to be exposed to a camera. “You’re going to do it in one try?”
“Are you challenging my ability as a photographer?”
Understanding dawned. This was the game he played. The challenge that he set for himself with each new client. It wasn’t enough for him to take amazing photographs for magazines. He had to do something that proved he was a master of his craft.
If Oliver seemed annoyed by her continued resistance, he gave no sign. They relocated to a cozy couch in the Grand Bar and Lounge, where Oliver ordered a sampling of small plates and a club soda for himself. Determined to keep a clear head, Sammi followed suit. While they ate, Oliver shared stories of the celebrities he’d photographed, and Sammi described her modeling experiences overseas.
He watched her with rapt focus. Not like a predator, preparing to pounce, but as if she was some rarity and he an avid collector.
“What?” she demanded, equal parts intrigued and terrified beneath his curious stare.
Was she imagining that something was happening between them? She no longer believed his sole purpose in approaching her had been to get her into bed. His mysterious behavior made him impossible to read, and that only enhanced his sex appeal. She wanted to be alone with him, to immerse herself in his kisses and let her body be in control for a change.
Something must’ve shown in her expression, because he leaned
