Impulsive (41 page)

"Good. We'll go with the uniform first. Corey will show you
where to change, and get Emma started on you. Don't dally."

Inside the dressing room, Jess let out a breath. "Is he
always so brusque?"

Corey grinned. "According to him, it's part of his charm. Let
me introduce you to the real magician of the group. This is Emma, the lady who
does our makeup, styles our hair, and helps keep our clothes in order. Emma,
this is Jess."

Emma was a tad more congenial. "Glad to meet you, Jess. Now,
strip down to your undies, tie this cape around your neck, and we'll get
started."

Twenty minutes later, Jess couldn't believe the change, as she
contemplated her reflection in the mirror. "I love what you did with my
hair, but are you sure we didn't overdo it on the makeup?"

Corey, who was steaming the wrinkles out of Jess's clothes,
laughed. "Emma knows best, Jess. Trust her. You have to apply more
cosmetics than you would normally, or you'll end up looking like a ghost."

"I don't want to look like a streetwalker, either," Jess
protested weakly. "I don't want Ty to be disappointed."

"He won't be, and neither will you when you see the final results,"
Corey promised. "Now, shimmy into this top without mussing yourself."

Before Jess could object any further, she found herself back in
that big, bare room, standing in front of several blazing hot lights. She wore
nothing but her Knights' jersey, which ended at mid-thigh, red satin panties,
and a pair of flesh-colored, stick-on supports beneath her bare breasts,
designed to push them up and together without benefit of a bra.

Corey was off to one side, in the shadows, and Blane was
attempting to arrange Jess's stiff limbs in just the right pose to suit him.
"Loosen up," he commanded in exasperation. "That's a camera, not
a gun. This is why I rarely work with amateurs. They're so awkward and
timid."

By the time he was done contorting her, from her chin to her toes,
Jess felt like a department store mannequin with a charley horse—not at all
natural or relaxed. "This is ridiculous!" she muttered, trying not to
move her mouth, lest Blane come back to readjust it. "I just want some
pretty pictures of myself for Ty. This isn't for some magazine, for heaven's
sake."

"I don't take pretty pictures," Blane said from behind
his camera. "I take great photos, or none at all. Now smile. Show me some
teeth. I said a smile, dammit. I'm not a dentist, I'm a photographer. Relax
your shoulders. No, not that much. Now, think money. No? All right, how about
mink? Diamonds?"

Corey stepped forward. "Let me try, Blane. I know Jess, and
what she likes. Fifty dollars says I can get a real smile out of her the first
time out."

"I'll pay it, gladly," he muttered.

"Okay, Jess. Think of Josh. You've been teaching him to kick,
and he's just landed his first team goal." She pointed toward the camera.
"Picture it. There's the ball, sailing into the soccer net, with Josh's
footprint all over it, and you're bursting with pride. Show me how much."

Jess, completely pulled in by Corey's soft-touch coaching, reacted
automatically. A smile wreathed her face, her eyes going bright and wide as she
exclaimed aloud, "Way to go, Josh!" Deserting the pose Blane had
chosen, she cocked one knee forward, thrust out her chest, and gave the camera
a double thumbs-up.

Blane snapped the shutter. "Now we're onto something,"
he declared with satisfaction.

After they took a couple more, just for insurance, Jess changed
into her caftan, the one she'd been wearing when Ty proposed to her. The nurses
had cut it down the front, to bare her chest for defibrillation; but Claudia
had carefully stitched it again, and the seam didn't even show. Jess was
thankful that the caftan had been at Ty's on the day her apartment had been
vandalized, or it would have been irreparable. Likewise, with her smiley-face
swimsuit. Her black dress, the one Ty liked so well on her, had been at the dry
cleaner's. She'd picked it up just prior to heading home Friday.

Blane could not understand why Jess, via Corey, had requested a
big beanbag chair as one of the props, but he honored her wishes anyway. He
shot a picture of Jess sitting in it, surrounded by softly glowing candles, her
caftan draped in silky folds as she gazed dreamily at the ring on her left
hand. For the photo of Jess in the black dress, Blane had her twirl round and
round, as if dancing. He caught her on a turn, half-facing the camera, looking
carefree and happy, her skirts flaring out around her long legs.

Next came an outfit Corey had picked up for her, so Ty wouldn't
accidentally catch a glimpse of it ahead of time. Feeling more than a little
silly, Jess wriggled into it and asked, "What do you think, Corey? Would I
pass muster as a biker chick?"

Corey grinned. "If Ty's got a penchant for leather and lace,
this is just the ticket, girl. He'll flip out. Are you going to model it for
him when you get him all to yourself tonight?"

"I'll never tell. But if you hear things going bump in the
dark, pay no attention. It'll be us, doing the bunny hop."

The outfit in question was constructed of black leather accented
with silver chains. It consisted of a front-zip, sleeveless vest, combined with
a pair of extremely short shorts, knee-high boots, and elbow-length gloves.
Under it, Jess was wearing a slinky satin teddy, in a shade called champagne
blush, decorated with tiny mauve ribbons and touches of lace.

Blane photographed her first with only the leather ensemble
showing. He posed her sidesaddle on a big black-and-chrome Harley he'd borrowed
for the shoot. Into the swing of it by now, Jess had no trouble portraying a
brazen babe, decked out for her hard-riding guy. All she had to do was follow
Corey's very innovative and suggestive promptings, and imagine Ty as that man.
To her surprise, she was actually starting to enjoy herself.

There followed shots with the teddy half-exposed—then in the teddy
alone. For this last set, Blane posed her amid a pile of satin pillows, with
Jess half-reclined on them. "Think sex, Jess," Corey told her.
"Hot, steamy sex. You're ready and waiting for him. Ty is fresh out of the
shower, naked as a jaybird, and walking toward you. Envision him, Jess.
Anticipate what is about to happen between you."

Unconsciously, Jess licked her lips. They were still dewy, her
face flushed, her eyes gleaming with a come-hither glow, as Blane snapped the
photo. Only after he'd caught the shot, did he exclaim huskily, "Damn if
I'm not getting hard just listening to you, Corey! Do you have to be so
graphic?"

Corey laughed. "Hey! Don't knock it! It's working, isn't
it?" Jess slanted an anxious glance toward the photographer, and Corey
chuckled anew. "Don't worry, Jess. Blane isn't going to go ape and jump
your bones. He's gay, and proud of it."

The final few shots were of Jess alternately sitting and lying on
a beach lounger in her smiley-face bikini. Blane changed the background to a
sand-and-surf scene, adjusted the lighting to give her skin a slightly tanned
appearance, and directed Corey to wet Jess down with water from a sprinkling
can to give the effect that she'd just emerged from a pool. "I want
languid here," he directed. "Slow and easy, sunbathed and
sensual."

"Feel the warm tropical breeze," Corey added softly,
"wafting over you like a lover's caress. You're dreaming of him, Jess.
Erotic daydreams of the night before."

Back in the privacy of the dressing room at last, Jess heaved a
sigh. "Wow! That's some imagination you have, Corey! You should be writing
romance novels."

"Thanks for the suggestion. A couple of babies under my belt,
and I might not be in shape to model anymore. Besides, I'd want to stay home
and be a mommy then."

Jess stripped out of her suit and headed for the bathroom.
"Boy, am I glad there's a shower in here. With luck, I can wash all this
sweat, makeup, and hairspray off and look halfway normal by the time we meet
the guys. If I can remember how I had my hair before Emma rearranged it."

"Not to worry. If Ty notices the difference, we'll tell him
she did your hair while you were waiting for me. You know, Jess, these photos
are going to turn out terrific. Much better than those glamour shots in all the
malls these days."

"I hope so, but I still think it's a bit egotistical to give
Ty pictures of myself for his birthday."

"Not at all," Corey assured her. "Besides, Blane is
going to enlarge that snapshot of you and Ty and Josh at the zoo. Your first
family photo. Ty will love the idea."

"And Blane is positive he can have them processed by this
evening?" Jess fretted.

"He promised to have them hand-delivered to us at Windows on
the World. I've already reserved a table for four for dinner at eight."
After a short pause, she asked, "Are you certain you wouldn't rather dine
alone with Ty? Gabe and I can duck out, if you'd prefer."

Rain, snow, sleet—they had it all for Sunday's game, enduring four
endless quarters of foul November weather, only to go into overtime and lose to
the Jets. By the time they dragged their muddy, frozen tails back to the hotel
and showered off most of the muck, Ty and Jess were looking forward to a stint
in the sauna. Gabe joined them, as did Corey, whose teeth were still chattering
from sitting in the stands the whole while. Dressed in men's and ladies' terry
cloth wraps provided by the hotel, the foursome trooped into the sauna,
fortunate enough to have it all to themselves.

"At least you guys got to run around and work up some
heat," Corey complained. "We spectators nearly froze in place, like
so many popsicles."

"Oh, stop whining," Gabe told her, giving her a swat on
the rear. "You didn't take the battering we did out there on the field,
slipping and sliding and getting knocked on our butts."

"No kidding," Jess said, rubbing at her aching posterior
through the thick toweling. "I still can't believe I did that. Ran
straight for the ball, and wham! Flat on my backside!"

Ty had to laugh. "You did kind of resemble Charlie Brown with
that move, and unlike Lucy, I didn't even have to snatch the ball away. You
slipped before you even got to it."

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you, hotshot," she retorted.
"You spent more than your allotted time sucking up slushy mud pies."

"And I've got the bruises to prove it," he groaned.
"Sacked three times! I'm definitely going to have a word with the front
line about throwing better blocks and tackles."

"Ah, but doesn't this feel glorious?" Corey nearly
purred. "All this blessed heat, soaking into our bones. I thought my toes
would never be warm again."

"With me, it was my nose," Jess put in. "I had the
biggest urge to hide it in Ty's armpit, until I took a good look at his filthy,
sweaty self. I figured frostbite was preferable to asphyxiation."

"You could have borrowed his new jock strap," Corey said
with a wide smile, "and worn it as a nose warmer."

"Uh, uh." Ty shook his head. "I was wearing it. By
the end of the third quarter, that was the only warm part of my body—especially
thinking about these hot photos." Ty and Jess shared an intimate look.

"Speaking of hot, isn't it getting a little too steamy in
here?" Gabe asked.

Ty peered around. "Yeah. It's weird, like being caught in a warm
fog. Maybe the vents aren't working the way they should."

"Why don't you go investigate?" Jess suggested lazily,
too tired to move at the moment. "And while you're at it, turn the heat
down a notch. I was cold before, but now I'm starting to roast."

"Would you grab me a bottle of spring water from out there,
too?" Corey asked. "I forgot to get one on the way in."

"Sure. Save my spot. I'll be right back."

The problem was, in order to come back, he had to leave first, and
when he pushed on the door, it wouldn't budge. He pushed harder, but the door
remained in place.

"Hey, Gabe. Come over here and help me, will you? Can heat
warp a steel door? It won't open."

Gabe climbed off his perch. "Don't you just love these wimpy
quarterbacks?" he quipped. "All brain and no brawn."

But when he applied his muscle to the task, along with Ty's, the
door stayed shut. "What the devil is wrong with this thing?" He
inspected it more closely. "No inside knob. Just that pull bar on the
outside. And no lock, that I can tell."

"There'd better not be," Ty grumbled. "I believe
there's a law against having a lock on a sauna, and if there isn't, there
should be. It's probably just jammed, like I said."

They rammed their combined weight against it several more times,
with no appreciable result. "This is nuts." Ty swiped at the foggy
window set in the upper half of the door panel, and peered out. The adjacent
room was empty. "Any other time, there'd be people standing in line to use
this thing, or stacked three deep in the whirlpool. Where are they now, when we
need them?"