‘Can you see without the glasses?’ he muttered.
‘Well enough. Just don’t ask me to read my own handwriting,’ she quipped.
He stared, leaning closer. ‘Your eyelashes are—’
‘Weird. I know.’
Her increase in visible tension was so small you’d have to be paying close attention to notice. Fortunately, Alek was paying extremely close attention.
‘It’s a genetic thing,’ she said dismissively, but intriguingly her fingers had curled into fists. ‘Don’t pull an eyelash out to check they’re real.’
As if he’d ever think to do that. Whoever would? ‘I believe you.’ He forced his stiff face into a smile.
Had someone done that to her in the past? He blinked in disbelief. They really were the thickest, most lush lashes he’d ever seen. ‘And your transformation hasn’t been a waste of time. We need a portrait shot to go with the media release.’
‘You want to take that now?’ She looked startled. ‘You have a professional photographer on board too, don’t you?’ She nodded to herself. ‘Unreal.’
He chuckled, appreciating the light relief. ‘You’ll get used to it.’
He buzzed for the photographer, who bounded in with more enthusiasm than usual and keenly listened as Alek explained what he wanted.
‘Okay, we can use the white background over here,’ the photographer said. ‘What about the engagement ring?’
‘We’ll display that later,’ Alek answered swiftly. ‘Work around it for now.’
‘We can do head and shoulders, but then some relaxed shots—more modern, arty, from the side—’
‘Whatever you think,’ Alek interrupted. ‘Just get them as quickly as you can.’
Hester looked so stiff and uncomfortable, Alek had to suppress both his smile and frustration. He could think of one way of helping her relax but he didn’t think she’d appreciate it. Besides, he’d ruled that out, hadn’t he? He’d glibly assured her that of course he could be celibate for a year.
A year. The term hit him with the force of an asteroid.
‘You will get used to it, Hester,’ he repeated to reassure her.
But he was the one facing the grim reality of his impetuous decision. No sex. No touching. Just a measly two kisses—what did he think he was, twelve? And did he really think he was in ‘complete control’ of the situation? Because somehow, something had changed. It had only been a few hours and he was already seeing Hester in a new light. Was he so shallow it was all about the make-over? Or, worse, was it a case of wanting what was off limits—as if he were some spoilt child?
But as he stood next to her his temperature rose. He never sweated through photo sessions; he was too used to them. But she was close enough for him to catch her scent and she seemed to be glowing and it wasn’t just the make-up. His fingers itched to touch and see if her skin was as silky soft as it looked.
‘Can we try it with you looking at each other?’ The photographer sounded frazzled. ‘Um…yes, like that.’
Alek gazed at her upturned face. He couldn’t think for the life of him why he’d thought her anything less than stunning. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was striking. Her golden eyes with those incredible lashes? Her lush pouting lips? That infuriating serenity and stillness of her very self? He couldn’t resist putting a careful hand on her waist and drawing her a little closer. He heard the slight catch in her breath but she didn’t frown.
‘Better,’ the photographer muttered. ‘Do you think you might be able to smile?’
Alek glanced up from his appallingly lustful stare at her lips to her eyes and amusement flashed between them. He chuckled the same split second she did. And there it was—that soft, enchanting smile he’d not seen enough of. A hot, raw tsunami swept through him at the sight. He wanted more of it.
‘Yes!’
Now the photographer sounded far too ecstatic for Alek’s liking.
‘We’ll get changed for the next few shots.’ He wanted to be alone with her. He wanted to make her smile again and he didn’t want witnesses.
‘Good idea.’ Hester bit her lip and walked from the room.
Alek automatically followed her into the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. ‘What colour are—?’
‘Oh!’ She started and then stared bug-eyed at his chest.
Her eyes grew so round he almost preened as he shrugged his shirt all the way off.
‘Is there a problem?’ He couldn’t help teasing her. But he was beginning to realise the real problem was all his.
No sex for a year?
‘I n-need to get changed,’ she stammered.
‘So get changed.’ With exaggerated civility he bowed and then turned his back to her and unlocked the wardrobe for a fresh shirt.
‘This is your bedroom?’ she choked. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise when we put all the clothes…’
‘I don’t mind, Hester.’
But it was obvious she minded very much. All that efficient poise of hers had vanished and he couldn’t help enjoying the moment. It was because of him.
‘Let me know when it’s safe to turn around again,’ he offered with a self-mocking smile. He’d prove his ‘gentleman’ credentials—to himself as much as to her.
The following silence was appallingly long. He waited, his new shirt buttoned up all the damn way, for what felt like decades for her to give him the all-clear.
‘Um…’ She finally coughed. ‘Would you mind helping me with the zip?’
Oh, was that the problem? ‘Sure.’ Smothering a laugh, he turned, only to freeze at the sight of her smooth bare back. A gorgeous expanse of creamy skin was edged by the curling sweep of her voluminous golden brown hair—inviting him closer, to touch. Instead he carefully took the dress in the tips of his fingers so as not to inadvertently touch her skin. To prove his restraint to himself. Slowly he pulled the zip up, hiding her from his hungry eyes again. The desire to lean closer, to touch where he had no permission, almost overwhelmed him. By the time
