Body of Work (21 page)

The testosterone and trust combo had never worked out for her, yet here she was at Iron Works, about to toss them into the figurative blender. And once again, she was justifying her impending stupidity in the name of love.

She stopped in front of the building and took a fortifying breath, finger-checking her barrettes while she exhaled. Nervous habit, it’s not as if she wanted to look her best. She’d chosen the drabbest, ugliest thing she owned, a shapeless plaid dress that made her look frumpy and flat-chested. Anything to lessen her appeal. Though, when she’d modeled it for Brian earlier, it certainly hadn’t turned
him
off.

Brian. She sighed, one of those over-the-moon sighs that hopelessly in love women made. He needed her help. And help the man she’d utterly fallen for? Call that a no-brainer. She’d signed up on the spot, even though helping involved making friendlier than she’d like with his horrible, creepy boss. Once Brian’s job was secure, she’d tackle her own. Work on building her photography business strictly in the blinds-open areas.

That’s how it had to be if she wanted a shot at the fairytale. Yes, the logical part of her knew Brian wasn’t Lance, but every time she considered simply talking to Brian, telling him about the very confidential side of her work, Lance’s reaction, his deceit, choked her speechless. So she’d quit. Without those jobs, there’d be a lot less income, but she’d have nothing to hide. No more worries, rational or otherwise, about what
could
happen if Brian knew her secrets. The secrets were her past. If they could get through this Trevor mess, happily ever after with Brian might be her future.

The massive man who made her heart flutter and her body sing smiled when she stepped through the heavy door. Not the full-face grin she’d fallen for months ago and now had the pleasure of seeing at intimately close range, but enough to give her strength for the chore ahead. Though her instinct was to smile back, she schooled her face into a more appropriate expression. He’d fucked her and sent her packing last night, or so his boss believed. For now, that’s how they had to play it.

She raised her eyebrows in question. A subtle head tilt toward the offices told her what she needed to know. Trevor was here. As expected, since she’d called him this morning to arrange a meeting.

“Hey.” Brian’s voice halted her just shy of Trevor’s door. “I’ll be right here.”

Thank god. She nodded, raised her fist and knocked, shuddering when he called her in. This was a business meeting with a potential client. With any luck, Trevor would see her in the grandma dress and have second thoughts about wanting that date. If not, she was really going to need Brian as backup.

As soon as the office door closed behind her, Cassie’s mouth kicked into sales mode. “Thanks for the opportunity to pitch my work. I brought samples of promotional shots and the resulting media for a variety of businesses—”

“Whoa, slow down. Save something for our dinner meeting.”

And there went the bottom of her stomach.

“I’ve done my research, had a good look at your work online. It’s safe to say the Iron Works job is yours, Cassie.” Trevor raised his index finger when she opened her mouth to jump in. “I’m not much of a desk-pusher, I’m only here because you called. We’ll discuss details over dinner. Are you free tomorrow night?”

“I’m busy tomorrow. Any other night will be fine.” No way was she giving up time with Brian to do this ugly deed, even it was going to get her a nice, legit project.

Trevor leaned back in his chair, a smile so slick it couldn’t possibly be genuine sliding across his thin lips. “It’ll be better than fine. Our dinner date is going to change your life.”

Good god, the conceit. She forced a smile and focused on thoughts of the future—the exposure she’d get from the Iron Works job, the money it’d bring in, the freedom to be with Brian, publicly, after she’d given Trevor what he wanted…only that last bit curled her stomach so badly, she almost lost the veggie pita she’d had for lunch. She and Brian had danced around what Trevor might’ve meant when he’d told Brian he “wanted a crack at her”. The possibilities were nauseating. Surely Trevor wouldn’t expect her to sleep with him. And if it came to that—having sex with Trevor to secure Brian’s career—would she do it?

“You know what, let’s make it Saturday. The best chefs always work weekends. I’ll make a reservation and pick you up at five thirty.”

“Saturday, sure.” Merely shaking his hand made her skin crawl. “Where are we going, so I know what to wear?” Also so she could call ahead to ensure they had a well-lit, non-cozy table.

“Don’t worry about dress code. Whatever you choose, I’m sure to be the envy of every man in the place.”

Sweet words she refused to acknowledge, given the source. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

* * * * *

She’d had to juggle appointments to free up her Wednesday evening. Now, thanks to her current client’s
third
pee break, Cassie was officially behind schedule. Brian would be here to pick her up any minute. She couldn’t exactly push the pregnant lady out the door, but if she and Brian were going to be late to his parents’ for dinner, it should be for more exciting reasons.

“Cassie, I’m here.” Brian’s deep voice filtered down the basement stairs.

“Oh crap,” she muttered, skirting the seating area to catch him before he descended. “I’m finishing up with a client, shouldn’t be too long.”

“Is it okay if I come down?”

“Um, no…hang on a few.” This wasn’t an explicit shoot, but Debra had been dressed in her bra and pants for the last hands-on-the-belly shot. Movement caught Cassie’s eye. Debra had exited the washroom, shirt on, face flushed and eyes wide. “Don’t worry, he’ll wait upstairs until we’re done.”

“We’re done now.” Debra’s head shook like a bobble-head doll in the hands of a rowdy two-year-old.

“There’s no rush to finish the shoot, honestly. Let’s take a look at the images we’ve got and figure out what we still need.”

“Whatever we’ve got will have to do. My water broke. It’s baby time.”

“Oh my god, Deb, that’s wonderful…” Oh no. In conversation, Debra had told her she had a few more weeks to go. “You’re early. You need to get to the hospital.” Cassie darted for the cordless phone on her desk. “Who do I call—Richard? An ambulance? Somebody else, or should I take you?”

“Relax, you’re stressing more than I am.” Debra laughed, hands sliding over her big belly. “This is baby number three, which practically makes me an expert at this labor gig. I texted Richard from the bathroom, he’s on his way over. Pretty sure the baby’ll keep cooking until we get to the hospital.”

How could Debra be so calm about the impending delivery? Thinking about what it entailed had Cassie’s gut—and lady parts—clenching.

Debra bent half over, clutched her belly and moaned. “Not another one…”

“Lie down before you fall down.”

“No way,” Debra said, breathing through the end of a contraction while eyeing the white sofa. “I’m not getting baby juice all over your fancy couch.”

“It’s leather, the baby juice will wipe off. Come on.” No amount of tugging on Debra’s arm budged her. “Geez. You’re strong for a woman in a delicate condition.”

“Delicate?” Debra snorted. “Honey, I’m toting an extra fifty pounds. Nothing delicate about that. You wait—one day you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

Kids were part of her happily ever after dream, but seeing Debra in this state made Cassie’s ovaries shrink in on themselves, with no sign of baby lust. “What are you doing now?”

“Going upstairs to wait for Richard.” Debra turned on the second step. “Unless you want to photograph the birth on your prop bed?”

“I think the hospital is a better choice than my studio, but if you want me to go with you to take pictures, I will.” Even though it’d mean canceling on Brian—he’d understand.

“Honey, you’re an amazing photographer, but I really don’t need pictures of
that
.”

Oh thank god. “If you’re not going to rest while you wait for Richard, at least let me help you.”

“If this,” Debra’s hands did a sweep of her body, “falls on you, you’ll be flattened. You’re worse than a nattering mother, you know that? Stand back and let me climb the damn stairs.”

“Not without help.” Cassie eyed the stairwell. Had to be done. “Brian, we could use you down here.”

He was on the landing before Debra could haul herself up another step. And good god, he looked delicious. Cassie had teased him about wanting to see this, and there he stood, wearing a tan kilt, black boots and t-shirt, putting her imagination to shame.

“On second thought, maybe I should watch some of your next photo shoot while I wait.” Debra turned her head toward Cassie and mouthed,
Holy shit
.

“Brian’s not here to pose for me,” Cassie said as he carefully sidestepped Debra and took the position behind her, for safety. “Though I wouldn’t mind if he did.”

“You’re the new boyfriend?” In spinning to get a better look, Debra wobbled and nearly lost her balance.

Good thing Brian was right there to steady her. “I am.” His hands stayed on Debra’s lower back and arm, gently supporting her as she resumed climbing. “The newest and the last, if I have my way.”

This time Debra’s laugh was more of a girlish giggle. Cassie didn’t blame her for falling victim to Brian’s looks and charm, especially today. As they reached the back door, Richard appeared on the stoop, grinning ear to ear at the sight of his wife. The absolute adoration Richard had for Debra, even in her much-enlarged state, struck Cassie straight through to her core. Another example of enduring true love she’d had the good fortune to document in images over the years. Her eyes left the blissful couple and settled on Brian. Maybe it was her turn for a happily ever after. God, she wanted that.

They followed the repeat-parents-to-be out. Cassie waved as Richard helped Debra into the passenger seat of a minivan. “Call me when you have news.”

“Will do.” Debra stuck out her hand, raised in a thumbs-up.

“Pretty sure that was about you,” Cassie said as the van drove away. Now that she had him alone, looking the way he did, all bets at getting back on schedule were off. “You’re wearing a kilt.” Not the traditional tartan kind, but jaw-droppingly sexy, nonetheless. “I didn’t know they came in plain colors like that.”

“They do. They’re utility kilts. I have a couple others like this, plus the old-school clan colors for special occasions.”

Sparks skittered up her arm when Brian closed his fingers around hers and led her back inside the house. “I’m going to need to see those.”

“That means you’ll be joining me for more family stuff then, because that’s usually when I haul them out.”

The suggestion sent a thrill through her body. He wanted her with him at family events, had stated his desire to be her last-ever boyfriend. Things felt so good right now. So hopeful. The sexy photo business was over. All she needed to do was get through one evening with Trevor. She could do that. Look at the prize waiting for her once she did.

Ack, waiting. She dropped his fingers and started for the stairs. “Sorry, that client-going-into-labor thing threw me off schedule. I’ll be ready to go in a couple of minutes.”

“No rush. For you, I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

His eyes told her he meant the words in a bigger way. How soon was too soon to tell him how
she
felt? Once his horrible boss had signed Brian’s new contract and she’d informed all her private clients about her decision, she’d have nothing to hide. That’s when she’d tell him. Until then, she’d keep on showing him, every chance she got.

“You okay?” He stepped closer to stroke a finger over her cheek. “Worried about your client having her baby?”

“No—I mean, yes. But no.” Cue airhead moment. “Yes, I’m okay. No, I wasn’t thinking about Debra. I was thinking about you and…us.”

“I like the sound of the second part.”

“So do I.” She bit her lip as her cheeks warmed. “Want to come down with me while I put things away and shut off the lights?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great.” No point in being nervous, there was nothing down there he shouldn’t see. No nude photos hanging on the walls. No kinky props lying around—those were tucked away in a cupboard. When they reached the bottom, she did a wide one-arm sweep of the basement. “So, this is my studio, such as it is, currently.”

“Nice. A lot bigger than I expected. Is it okay if I look around?”

“Sure.” She patted him on his kilted butt and left him to it. She’d used two cameras for Debra’s pregnant-mama sitting, so she set about removing memory cards and lenses, packing the pieces away in protective cases. His arms closed around her waist, making her jump a little—and tingle a lot. Good call, inviting him down here.

“I realize that I have no frame of reference, but I’m impressed. This is where you take most of the pictures, in front of this big white cove thing?”

“A lot of them. With the correct lighting,” she tipped her head at one of several umbrellas, “I can virtually eliminate shadows, or control them.”

His beard rasped her neck, his breath on her skin raising her nipples inside her sleeveless blouse. “Keep talking. I like hearing about your work.”

Oh yes. Proof of how much he liked it was lined up against the crack of her ass. She rolled her hips against the hard ridge, making him curse softly into her ear. “I—” She whimpered as his hand pulled up the front of her skirt and slipped inside her panties. “I have backdrops I can roll down if the shot calls for it, but—” Oh god, two talented fingers had her clit in a ready-to-come sandwich.