Modern Girl's Guide to One-Night Stands (18 page)

Now that he was in her portfolio, Simon’s professional curiosity took over and he started to explore her webpage. Most of her photographs were of landscapes and nature scenes, but there were a few other series of portraits. She had a way of capturing not only the beauty of the subjects but also their personality, and even though he knew little of the actual mechanics of photography, he thought her use of light and shadows was intriguing. Several of the images would have made great centerpieces for marketing material.

Before he knew it, Simon had left several comments on her website, complimenting various photos using the “contact the artist” button at the bottom of the page. Just as he finished a quick note about a particularly striking shot of an elderly woman in a wheelchair, a chat box popped up.

Julia: Simon?

A blinking cursor next to his name taunted him as he debated how he should respond. It never occurred to him when he registered to leave a comment that it would open a chat with her. He wasn’t even sure she wanted to talk, especially after her cool email.

After he didn’t respond, another message popped up.

Julia: I appreciate the feedback. I’m glad you enjoyed my work. Thank you for stopping by my site.

Chat ended.

He fingered the mouse, telling himself to just drop it, but instead he hit the green “contact the artist” button again.

Simon: You have a good eye. Have you ever thought about doing commercial work?

The cursor blinked achingly slowly, and he thought she’d logged off. He was just about to give up and go back to bed when she responded.

Julia: I’m not sure I’d do well in the commercial world. I couldn’t spend my days taking photos in a studio.

Simon: A lot of ads use nature photography. I can think of a half dozen clients that could benefit from your work.

Julia: That’s a thought, but I don’t think it’s for me. My best work comes when the mood strikes me. I’ve never done well with commissions. Something usually just catches my eye and I go for it. But that can lead to some interesting situations. One time I got locked on a roof of a building downtown for hours before someone found me.

Some of the angles on the shots were odd and Simon could imagine her climbing trees and standing on fence posts to get just the right shot. The image of her, waist-deep in the frigid water, flashed in his mind, bringing a smile to his lips.

But that thought just opened the floodgates. Images of that weekend flashed through his mind unbidden. Julia silhouetted against the full moon. Her skin glistening in the low lamplight as she pleasured herself. White teeth biting her lip as she came around his cock.

Fuck.
Just thinking about her made him hard. Simon shifted uncomfortably in the chair and tried to think of something else.

Simon: How are the stitches?

Julia: Fine. I have an appointment to get them taken out in a few days. It’s healing nicely, but I’ll have another ugly scar.

While he’d been enjoying their casual chat, Simon wanted to try his apology again. He really needed to make things right with her. He’d screwed up big time and not just with Julia. She was Megan's best friend, and he would be seeing her again. He didn’t want this to cause problems with Megan.

Simon: Good to hear. Julia, I’m sorry I left without talking with you. I was the world biggest asshole. I admit it. How are you?

Her response took longer this time. He thought she’d logged off. He wouldn’t blame her if she did, and he started formulating a backup plan. Did FTD have a “Sorry I Left After Sex Without Saying Goodbye” bouquet?

Julia: Don’t worry about it. I need to get to bed. Goodnight, Simon. It was nice talking with you.

Chat ended.

The little green box at the bottom of her page turned red.

Even over the internet he could tell she was still extremely pissed, and normally he wouldn’t let it bother him. But a few nights later Simon found himself on her website again, sending her another message.

Simon: How’s your work going? Any new photos?

Blink. Blink. Blink. The cursor taunted him until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He opened up his email and started sorting through the spam.

His father had sent a short message with a guest list for the Fourth of July party and reminded him to invite only his largest client. Matt’s wife, Beth, asked about hotels they could stay at by the lake so they wouldn’t have to drive home after the party. Matt and Beth were expecting their first child. Simon had been happy for them, but he couldn’t help but feel a slight ping of jealousy. They’d all worked their asses off for the last seven years, but Matt had still found time to build a life for himself. Simon felt like he was in a perpetual holding pattern, waiting for everything else to fall into place before he could begin his.

He shot back a reply insisting they stay at the house and closed his email. A flashing notice caught his eye and he realized that Julia had replied.

Julia: I’ve just finished processing the moon shots. I think I’m going to do an extra-large print of the one with the crane for my gallery show. I can’t believe how good it turned out.

Simon: Do you have it posted on your site?

Julia: Not for public viewing. Give me a minute and I’ll add you to my private album. Let me know what you think.

After a few seconds, Simon received an invitation to join a private site. He entered his information and the photograph filled his screen. It was stunning. The crane’s shadow was perfectly framed in the center of the moon’s light rippling on the water’s surface. The photo was dark, with pops of green and yellow highlights.

There were other photos in the album titled Lake House. Even though she’d only asked him about the one photo, Simon found himself browsing the others and making note of the ones he liked.

Again, the photos were mainly nature shots—the lake, wildlife, foliage. It was odd to view the familiar setting through her eyes. He loved the lake, but seeing it like this made it seem exotic. And while her nature studies were creative, it was the portraits that caught his attention.

There were several of his sister, sitting on the deck, hair pulled in a messy bun, mulling over a stack of papers. A few shots of Peter and his sister on the boat, the day of Julia’s accident. If he hadn’t known them, he would have assumed they were lovers. They were enjoying the sun with full glasses of wine. Touching and laughing. The images were like snapshot into a secret world between them he wasn’t aware of, and Simon had the urge to call up Peter and ask him what the fuck he was doing with his sister.

He put that thought aside for now and continued through the album. There were a few of Roger, the caretaker, leaning against his beat-up Ford, sweat gathered on his brow and light smudges of dirt across his nose. In his left hand he held pruners. Roger had probably been tending his mother’s roses. After all these years, it was the one thing in the garden he still did himself. Julia had captured the man perfectly in just a few photos. They were great, and he was beginning to think she had some kind of magical skill that caused her camera to steal the essence of her subjects.

Then he came to the photos she’d taken of him at the boathouse. He looked distant and brooding against the backdrop of the lake. His features were hidden in the shadows as the bright moon blazed behind him. Where the other photos had captured a lightness in the subjects, Simon’s felt heavy and dark, and he wondered if that was how other people saw him.

The message screen popped up.

Julia: Well?

He’d almost forgotten she was waiting on him. With one last look at his photo, Simon closed the album and shot her back a response.

Simon: I love it. I agree. It would look fantastic blown up into a large print.

She asked him about a few of the other photos—not the one of him—and then the subject moved to her plans while she was at the lake. Over the next hour they chatted about the area surrounding the house. He suggested some spots he'd always loved and she was nearly giddy when he told her about the abandoned estate to the south of the house. During their chat, he encouraged her to do more portraits, because they were his favorites.

Julia: I’ve never thought my portraits were as strong as my nature photography.

Simon: They’re great. The snapshots are wonderful but I especially like the candid pieces, and your nudes are fantastic. Are they for sale? If so, I call dibs on
In the Dark
.

Art wasn’t his thing, but Simon wanted the one of her. He clicked back to that image and admired the way the light played off the swell of her breast. The photo wasn’t sensual, not like the others. No, this one was coy and playful. A promise of something more. Just like her. He wanted to ask her what she’d been thinking when the shot was taken, but she responded before he could figure out a way to ask without it sounding creepy.

Julia: Figures. Flash a boob and men will pay big bucks. Sorry, but that one’s not for sale.

He was surprised how much the thought of her naked form on someone else’s wall bothered him. To be honest, he wasn’t thrilled it was up on her public site. Maybe if he talked her into selling it, she'd have to take it down.

Simon: Please tell me it’s not sold? I really want to buy it.

Julia: No. I haven’t sold it. It belongs to the model.

He actually laughed aloud at her response. Did she think he couldn’t tell it was her in the photo? Sure, her face was covered by her hair and most of her body was hidden in the shadows, but there was no mistaking that body. The lovely sprinkle of freckles across her breast was a dead giveaway. Not to mention the legs and ass. He'd always considered himself a tit guy, but her round, firm ass made him salivate.

Simon: Are you sure? I bet if you ask the model and told her it was going to a family friend, she might change her mind. I’m willing to negotiate price.

Julia: I’m sure. If you want a nude, I have a few others. Have you looked at the series?

Simon: That’s the only one I want.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Julia: What is it about that one in particular?

If he only knew. He was drawn to her like a moth to flame. It wasn’t just the sex, no matter how fantastic that was. He’d had great sex before. It was something about her. She was addictive. Even now, he felt like a junkie' his hands itched to trace her skin. Simon could almost see her, sitting in front of her computer. Gnawing on that bottom lip, waiting for him to respond.

Simon: Honestly, I don’t know, Julia. There’s something special about that one. It reaches me in a way the others don’t. I understand if you’re not willing to let me have it. Especially after everything that’s happened between us. Just know, I think it’s special.

He wasn’t talking about the photograph anymore and by her silence, he was pretty sure she knew it too.

Simon: It’s getting late. Thank you for sharing your work. If you want, you can email me when you have something new posted. Goodnight.

He didn’t wait for her to respond. Simon logged out of the chat screen and shut down his laptop.

Chapter Eleven

Modern Girl Tip #13: Keep It Casual—A one-night stand is not the appropriate time to dump all your personal issues. Keep the conversation light; don’t divulge your life story.

Julia wasn’t sure when it happened, but sometime over the last few days she’d forgiven Simon. Just a few days ago she would have been happy never to have seen him again. And now they were staying up late into the night, talking about her work.

That’s why instead of sleeping, Julia was lying in bed obsessing about their last chat. Simon’s interest in her nude and his cryptic comments made her uncomfortable.

There was no way he could know that photo was of her. She’d been extremely careful picking out the lighting and pose to conceal her identity. You couldn’t see her face at all in the shot. She’d even taken great care to conceal her tattoo, not that many people even knew she had one.

Putting the nude on her splash page had been a risk, but it was one of her favorites. She’d thought the photo, which really did highlight her skills with a camera, would entice people to take a look at the rest of her work. So far, no one, not even Luke, had noticed it was a self-portrait.