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Authors: Debbi Rawlins

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BOOK: Hot Spot
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He understood the limited window of opportunity and quickly complied. She was all business as she prodded him into place, instructing him to turn his head one way and then the other, to angle his shoulders in different positions. For the next five minutes she focused and clicked—it felt like a hundred times. And then she stopped, lowered the camera and frowned.

“This isn’t working.”

Anger ignited in his gut but he kept it at bay because she looked genuinely disappointed. “Why not?”

“You’re too stiff.”

“I’ve done exactly what you’ve told me to do.”

She nodded absently as if she weren’t really listening, an experience foreign to him. He didn’t like being ignored. “Let’s go back to candid shots,” she said finally. “Forget that I’m here. Just do whatever you’d do if you were by yourself.”

“Right.”

“Work with me here, would you?” She cocked her head to look past him. “We’re gonna lose the sun in about five minutes.”

“Hmm…usually comes up about this time.”

“Very funny,” she said, and clicked. “Perfect. Keep up the wisecracks. Think about the last joke you heard, about your date last weekend. Think about getting laid.”

That startled a laugh out of him.

She kept clicking. “Not the response I expected, but good. Keep going.”

Jack shook his head. She was something all right. Not like the women he’d met in the past few years. The ones who were either absurdly star struck or slyly using him to chase fame themselves.

No questioning Madison’s ambition, and that was okay, admirable actually. She was up-front about what she wanted. Her interest in him was clearly business, which allowed him to relax. Not that he agreed with the direction in which she wanted to take this photo shoot, but he understood it was her job to try. It was his to set boundaries.

“I’m losing you,” she said impatiently before snapping a couple more shots and then lowering the camera. “When I think about getting laid, I’m sure I look a
whole lot more excited than deciding what to get for dinner.”

He smiled. “Give me an example.”

“What?”

“Go ahead. Show me how I’m supposed to look.”

“We’re wasting time.” She raised the camera to eye level again, but couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at her mouth.

“I’m serious. Show me how
you’d
look.”

“Hell, I’m not going for disbelief.” She sighed and brought the camera down. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve lost the sun.”

He watched her turn around and tinker with the tripod, and wondered what she’d meant by disbelief. He sometimes overheard the women at the studio complaining about how difficult it was to meet a decent guy in the city. Although someone as attractive and smart and ambitious as Madison shouldn’t have a problem.

She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous nor did she possess any particular feature that would earn her a spot in front of the camera, but she had a casual sexiness that appealed to him. Serious, intelligent eyes, which sparkled when that wide, generous mouth curved into a smile, was a big draw for him. Long legs didn’t hurt. He had a thing for them, and she fit well into that category, too.

“Look, I’m sorry if I ruined your shot,” he said before he knew what he was going to say.

She turned and studied him for a moment and then quickly focused the camera and clicked twice. “That works.”

“What? Me looking humble?”

“You humble?” She chuckled. “Right.”

“Hey, I resent that.”

She focused and clicked again. And again as she stepped closer. “Now we’re talking.”

He had to laugh. “Does anything faze you?”

“Not much.” She looped the camera strap around her neck and let the camera rest over her breasts.

Whether from stimulation from the camera or the cool air, her nipples strained against her T-shirt, a set of pearls that captivated his attention and sent heat to his groin. He quickly looked away.

“How about we try over here again?” She gestured toward the white stone bench, and he readily complied, giving her his back as he moved in that direction.

In fact, he welcomed the distraction. It was going to be a long day, and the last thing they needed was an inappropriate look making them both uncomfortable.

“Right here would be good,” she said, suddenly so close behind him he could smell her citrus-scented shampoo.

Unable to resist, he inhaled deeply, and then when he turned, she was right there. Inches away, her minty breath warm on his chin.

“Sorry,” she muttered, and quickly moved back, except her breast brushed his arm. “I didn’t mean to crowd you.”

“No problem.” He lied. His slacks felt uncomfortably tight.

He didn’t dare look down.

5

J
ACK WATCHED HER STUDY
the trellis of small pink roses that flanked the left side of the bench. He didn’t think it was a matter of trying to avoid him. Fortunately she seemed oblivious to the contact and genuinely interested in rearranging one of the vines so that a spray of roses cascaded over the bench.

He took a couple of deep breaths. Told himself how ridiculous it was to have reacted, and everything started to settle down.

Except her nipple had responded to the pressure of his arm, and it required all his effort not to stare at the persistent nub.

“There.” She gingerly released the vine, and stepped back. “Perfect.”

“Okay.”

She looked over at him almost as if she’d forgotten he was there. “I’m trying to set a certain mood, get a certain look.” She frowned. “What would you do if you were planning a romantic date?”

“Romantic?”

“Yes, romantic. You know, out of the ordinary, something that bares your soul to someone special who you want to impress.” She briefly closed her eyes and gave
her head an emphatic shake. “No, not impress. She’s someone you care about…you’ve never felt this way about a woman before. You want to show her how you feel with every detail that you’ve planned for this date.”

“Romantic.” He sighed. Not exactly his style. “Right.”

“Stretch your imagination a little,” she said flatly, which made him smile.

“Help me out here.”

She squinted at him. “The longer you fool around, the longer this is gonna take.”

“Who’s fooling around? I usually take a woman to dinner and the theater. I’m a boring date. Now you know. Okay?”

She grinned. “You are a boring date. But so am I, so don’t be insulted.” She sobered, straightened and briefly closed her eyes. “Together we can do this. Okay. Imagine that you’ve planned a sunrise picnic. Up here.” She gestured toward the roses and bush of fragrant yellow flowers he didn’t recognize.

“You’ve brought candles and champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, soft romantic music and—What?”

“Nothing. Go on.”

“You look highly amused.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m just listening. You’re really very good at this.”

“Obviously that isn’t your idea of a romantic date. That’s fine.” She stepped back, eyed him for a moment. “Forget the romantic part. Let’s go back to you getting laid.”

He laughed.

“Consider the picnic foreplay.” She raised the camera again and focused. “You’ve been waiting for this moment for a month. Come on, let your imagination run with it. You’re expecting to have the best sex of your life.”

He started laughing and she glared at him over the camera.

“Not exactly what I was looking for,” she said dryly.

“You don’t see the humor in this?”

She blew out a puff of air. “Let’s try this again. No laughing.”

“No, ma’am.”

“I’m serious, Logan.”

“Me, too. Look. Not even a smile.”

She shook her head in admonishment, but her lips curved slightly. “Ready?”

He sighed. This was absurd. What a waste of a Saturday. He could have been golfing in Myrtle Beach. Hell, a trip to the dentist would’ve been more productive. Certainly easier.

She repositioned the camera and when the strap around her neck went up, so did her T-shirt, exposing a strip of pale skin above the waistband of her jeans. Something gold and dangly caught his eye. A ring with some kind of charm gleamed from her navel.

His gaze traveled up to the hem of her T-shirt. Another three inches and it would ride the swell of her breasts. His gut tightened. He wanted to see more.

“Great.”

He heard her voice, heard the camera click. Neither of which hampered his wildly inappropriate thoughts.

“Okay,” she said, moving back and taking one shot
after another. “Whatever you’re thinking, keep thinking it. This is awesome stuff.”

Her permission was mere formality. His imagination had already taken over, and he wondered what it would feel like to tongue her navel, tease it and her piercing with his teeth. He wondered if she had any more, in more-intimate places.

The hell of it was that he didn’t go in for that kind of thing, and Madison hadn’t seemed the type who would, either. The incongruity was what fascinated him most.

That was a lie. His gaze lowered to her thighs, to that narrow place where they didn’t meet.

Her long lean legs interested him far more. Her generous derriere sparked more than a little interest, as well. As slender as she was, her backside was nice and round and entirely too tempting.

His hands reflexively fisted and he imagined his arms wrapped around her, his hands kneading firm flesh while her naked breasts pressed against his bare chest. He’d lift her easily so that her legs could wrap around his waist.

He bet she’d be incredible. Totally open and uninhibited. Eager to please and be pleased.

His groin tightened.

He tried to stop. He had to look away or end up embarrassing the hell out of himself.

 

M
ADISON TOOK SEVERAL
dozen shots in rapid succession. This was great stuff. Fabulous. He was finally getting in the spirit of the shoot. The thought had no sooner formed in her head when he tensed and twisted away from her.

“Work with me here,” she said, and snapped a couple more she knew she wouldn’t use, but unwilling to interrupt the flow while waiting for him to relax.

He briefly closed his eyes and with what seemed to be an inordinate amount of effort, gave her his attention again.

“That’s it. Look at the camera,” she said. “Love it. Make it your best friend. Tell it your secrets.”

Letting out a grunt, he hunched his shoulders and rested his elbows on his bent knees.

“Okay,” she said, lowering the camera. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

A pained look creased his face. “I think I need that coffee now.”

“Now?”

“Uh, yeah.” He didn’t make a move to get up.

“All right.” She hesitated. “I’ll run downstairs for a clean cup.”

“Thanks.”

Setting down her camera, she slid him another look. He kept his gaze averted, his body still bent over, kind of the way she ended up last Saturday after eating too many cocktail wienies.

Heck, she didn’t get it. One minute he was cooperative and looking as if he were about to pull an all-nighter with the blond supermodel du jour. And now, he looked as if he were about to expire.

She got to the elevator, pressed the down button. This was crazy. They were wasting time. “I have a better idea,” she said turning back to him. “Let’s move to—”

He’d just gotten to his feet.

Her breath caught in her throat and she tried unsuc
cessfully to swallow, tried not to stare at the unmistakable bulge straining against his fly.

Focusing on his face didn’t help.

Awareness smoldered in his darkened hazel eyes, holding her gaze, possessing it for one incredible moment before he glanced away. “You were saying?”

His voice was even, composed, unlike the tornado going through her insides. Her mouth had gone dry, and words stuck in her throat. Even though she knew his arousal had nothing to do with her. Hell, she’d provoked him into creating the sexy private images in his head. God knew which model or actress had stirred that kind of raw desire.

Damn, she should have gotten a shot of that last look.

Madison replied, “I think we’ve gotten enough shots up here. Why don’t we move to the Haiku Suite and have coffee there?”

“Fine.”

“All right then.” She headed back toward her equipment and gathered her bag and camera, willing her hands to quit shaking. Nothing horribly noticeable, but enough of a tremor to make her clumsy and she nearly knocked over the tripod.

Thankfully he grabbed it and proceeded to carry the tripod toward the elevator. The fact he carried it as if it were a shield nearly sent her into a fit of nervous giggles.

She took a couple of deep breaths. The really cleansing kind she’d learned from Talia that went straight to the diaphragm. The exercise calmed her somewhat. As long as she kept her thoughts on business. Unfortunately, that included Jack Logan.

 

B
Y THE TIME THEY GOT
to the suite it was only eight-thirty and Jack was already thinking about calling it quits for the day. It was all his fault things were going badly. What the hell was he thinking fantasizing about her? Picturing her naked. Wondering if she was a Brazilian wax kind of woman, or if she went au naturel.

Damn it.

He concentrated on the suite’s interesting decor. An Asian theme with silk upholstered walls, black lacquer furniture and very expensive-looking Oriental rugs. He hadn’t seen this particular suite before, not at the opening and not with Madison earlier in the week.

Hopefully this change of venue didn’t mean anything. He ducked his head into the bedroom and spotted the notorious armoire. Or should he say toy chest. Piper had referred to it that way at the opening, and since it was her hotel, she should know. Each room had one for the more adventurous guests, along with a selection of adult videos. Not his thing. But he wasn’t a prude about it, either. He just hoped Madison didn’t have any unpleasant surprises planned.

“Something wrong?” She set down her equipment and closed the door behind her, her concerned gaze narrowed on him.

He rolled his right shoulder trying to release the tension building around his neck. “We didn’t see this suite the other day.”

“No, but my first choice is booked. This isn’t bad, though, huh? Really more masculine.” She glanced around with an analytical eye, and his gaze headed straight for her rounded backside.

“I’ll call room service for some coffee,” he muttered and focused on finding a phone.

“No, wait.” She moistened her lips. “It won’t take me but a minute to run downstairs.”

“Seems like a waste of time.”

She grimaced. “The thing is, I didn’t make arrangements for any type of billing. And since we aren’t registered guests…”

“I’ll take care of it.” Ignoring her protests, he found a phone and quickly arranged for a pot of their strongest brew. He’d probably regret the caffeine, although he’d developed some immunity thanks to the nasty habit of downing an entire pot each morning while prepping for his show.

Madison gave him a wry look.

He shrugged. “Celebrity does have its privileges. I didn’t make the rules.”

“I’m not being critical.” She smiled. “Envious maybe.”

“Yeah, well, it’s definitely a trade-off.”

“Guess there’s a lot of schlock that goes with the job, huh?”

He smiled back. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Still wouldn’t mind giving it a shot.” She shrugged and carefully set her camera next to a vase of fresh flowers. “I’d like to take a roll or two of film in here, and then some in the bedroom.”

“Why?”

“It’s part of the suite.”

“Funny.”

“Come on.” She grinned. “Loosen up.”

“Remember our deal.”

“Deal?” She faked a perplexed frown, and then tried to hide a smile as she opened the silk drapes, letting in the sunlight. She turned around to study the effect on the room, and nearly caught him eyeing the way the soft denim clung to her rear.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you know what I’m talking about.”

Ignoring him, she trailed her hand lightly over the sleek black lacquer sofa table, all the more impressive bathed in sunlight. “Oh, my, can you imagine staying here for real? Well, I guess you could. Us peons only get to see a room like this in the movies.”

He let the remark slide even though he disliked the class reference. “It’s okay. But I’ve stayed in better places.”

“Where’s that?”

“Out in the open. Under the stars. Air so clean and pure you’re not sure how to breathe it.”

“Whoa. Obviously you’re the outdoor type, but I didn’t know you were that gung-ho.”

“I’m not talking about recreational camping. Being in the field is the real rush. Hot sand under your body while you sleep. But you only close your eyes for a few minutes at a time.” He walked to the entertainment center, found a remote and stepped back to turn on the television—a flat-panel LCD much like the one he had in his own bedroom. After flipping through a couple of channels, he found CNN and then muted the sound.

“Sleeping only a few minutes at a time doesn’t sound like fun.” She stared at the screen, grimacing at the graphic coverage of yet another bombing in the Middle East.

“Ever work out in the field, Madison?”

“Does Times Square count?”

He smiled, but kept his somber gaze on the action on the screen. “If you get the chance, take an assignment abroad. The experience will be unforgettable. You owe that to yourself.”

“Um, I’m not really that kind of photographer. Anyway, I’m not big on sleeping outdoors.”

“Trust me. You wouldn’t care about how hard the ground is or how good a lobster tail drowned in butter might sound. It won’t matter how far away you are from civilization. Adrenaline takes over. It simmers in your veins. You have no concept of time. Days, weeks, months, it doesn’t matter.”

The curious way she studied him effectively shut him up. He’d said too much. His attention went back to the television, and a second before he switched off the remote she snapped a picture.

He jerked back. “What are you doing?”

“That was incredible. That was—” She slowly shook her head, her expression almost reverent. “You’re gonna love that shot. It’s totally you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

She blinked. “Granted, but I listened to what you just said, and that picture captured it. The passion in your words, in your voice. It was truth.” She cocked her head to the side. “You obviously miss being out there—getting the story. Why aren’t you out there more?”

“More?” He laughed. “I haven’t done any field reporting since I accepted the anchor seat.” Of course the network brass would disagree. Except their idea of field reporting was doing the morning show live from a movie set.

“Why not?”

He hesitated. “It’s not feasible.” Was she really that naive? “Shouldn’t we get started?”

“Right.” She looked as if she wanted to say something more but wisely turned away. “Let’s see…the couch. Or maybe…” She moved back slowly, while studying the room. “Over here.” She gestured for him to sit on a fabulous green suede chair.

BOOK: Hot Spot
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