Test Shot (22 page)

Unless he already had.

He glanced away and shut his eyes. A nerve ticked along the underside of his jaw, the same place she’d kissed him that first night they’d spent exploring each other in her living room. “You know better than to ask that, Layla.”

Shame burned through her. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“You keep apologizing, and it doesn’t change anything. We’re both where we are. We both got ourselves here.”

“That doesn’t let me off the hook.”

“I’m the one on the hook.” He almost smiled. She almost fell for it. “Did he tell you to ask me to lunch?” he asked when she didn’t respond.

For a moment, she had no idea who
he
was. When she figured it out, her shame tripled. God, what was happening to her?

“No. He doesn’t even know you’re here today. I didn’t plan to ask. I just couldn’t stop myself.”

“Why?”

“I miss you, Sawyer.” There, she’d said it. Admitted the awful, inexcusable truth. She was getting married, and somehow, some way, she’d already started to fall for the man they’d invited into their bed.

She’d believed, maybe wrongly, that those feelings were mutual. What they’d shared last week—that couldn’t have been merely desire, could it? But if it was something deeper, why had he walked away?
How
had he walked away?

And even if there was more between them than sex, what difference did it make? This arrangement wasn’t meant to be permanent, and she was already skating very close to emotionally betraying her fiancé. If she hadn’t crossed that line already. She wasn’t a cheater. Nor could she even consider the possibility of leaving Aidan.

But what if he pushes you to it?

Sawyer slanted her a look, and heat curled in her belly. “You aren’t going to call him first. If we do this, it’s just ours.”

She started to protest. Then she nodded and prayed she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life. “I won’t call.”

It was just lunch. Just an hour spent with a…friend. Aidan would understand. Hell, he’d encouraged this whole thing.

“I have to get back to the shoot. But when it’s over, I’ll come get you. It might not be until two o’clock or so.”

Nodding, she gave him some sort of acceptable answer. Once he’d gone, she dropped her head into her hands.

She was on a collision course with trouble, and she couldn’t seem to get out of her own way. As crazy as the last two weeks had been, she hadn’t felt this alive in forever.

Might as well make it worth your while, since Aidan will probably kill you if he realizes how you feel about Sawyer.

Groaning, she got back to her pile of paperwork. She was
not
going to think about Sawyer and Kiana lip-locking, probably at this very moment. Nor was she going to worry about Aidan. One lunch wouldn’t alter the course of her life.

She hoped.

As promised, he returned just before two. She’d been so consumed with thoughts of him that his knock startled her. Wordlessly, he entered her office and quickly shut the door.

Wouldn’t want to get caught consorting with the enemy agent.

She turned from the window and dropped her hands to her side. She’d rotated her engagement ring around her finger so much lately her skin had chafed.

“Shoot’s all done?”

“Yes,” he replied, without any of his usual cheer. Had something gone wrong?

“Does Leon want you for the job?”

“So he says.”

“That’s wonderful.” She smiled and forced any thoughts of his mouth on Kiana from her head. Jealousy had no place between them. “So you’ve decided to sign with Con, then?”

“Still thinking.”

“About what?”

“About what it’s worth to me to make some green,” he said, raking his fingers through his already tousled hair. Had Kiana been running her hands through it?

Duh. Of course she had.

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” Catching herself fiddling with her ring again, she blew out a breath. “What do you want to do, after you stop modeling? Have you thought about it?”

He jerked his shoulder. “Some.”

Wow, he really did not want to talk to her. Though it was understandable, it still hurt. “Come up with any conclusions?”

He hesitated, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. They were weathered blue today, so faded that streaks of white creased the thighs. “I’d like to teach math, I think.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s part of this scenario I have in my head. Probably won’t ever happen.”

“Tell me,” she said quietly, fighting every instinct to cross the room and frame his gorgeous face in her hands. She wanted to touch him so badly her fingers twitched.

“It’s kind of stupid.”

“I doubt that.”

Another shrug. “I always imagined the perfect setup with, you know, the wife, the kids, the job teaching math in an elementary school. Probably sounds deathly boring, huh?”

She shook her head. That tight, hot feeling had returned to her throat, and this time it had nothing to do with nausea. Not from a physical cause, at any rate.

There had to be something wrong with her. Didn’t people who had affairs usually seek out those who lived on the edge? Not her. She was completely, totally infatuated with a guy who craved home and family.

The same things you want.

“When I was growing up, I used to dream about having that security,” he continued, voice soft. “Just finding my place and being happy in it.”

“Yeah.” All of a sudden, her own chair seemed way too far away, so she sank into the chair across from her desk.

“You okay?” He knelt at her side before she realized he’d moved. “You’re awfully pale.”

“I’m just overtired. And hungry.” Rather than describe her past week of sleepless nights and meals where she’d barely picked at her food, she gave him her brightest smile. “Your future sounds too much like the one I always envisioned. Well, subbing a job in advertising for teaching math. Guess it was a little too
Twilight Zone
for me. I had a moment.”

He leaned back on his heels. “I know all about those. I’ve had about a dozen since I met you.”

When she didn’t respond, he sighed and held out a hand. “Let’s go get lunch, Layla.”

She gripped his hand and got to her feet, steadied by his touch. “Where are we going?”

“Someplace we can relax.” He jingled his keys. “Feeling adventurous?”

She couldn’t help smiling as she met his eyes. The light was back in them. For now. “Adventure’s my middle name.”

“I can’t believe you brought me on a picnic,” Layla said, propping her head on her hand. She’d stretched out on her side in the grass, without concern for her clothes or sitting in a ladylike position. She hadn’t even complained about getting dirty.

Sawyer shrugged and dug for more chips at the bottom of the bag. He’d sprawled out facing her in the shade, then spread his denim shirt beneath their picnic lunch of a ham-and-cheese sandwich, barbecue chips, and grape soda. Apparently her appetite had returned, though she ate about half as much as he did. All that was left of the meal was the giant brownie he’d seen her eyeing at the deli. He’d bought it the minute she turned away. Anything to make her smile.

Sap.

“Seemed like a nice day for one. And Hyde Park’s just far enough away from Hot Shots that we won’t be spotted.”

She tugged self-consciously at her flowing skirt, then held out a hand for more chips. “I can’t fault your reasoning. Though I’m not sure we’ve done anything that warrants hiding out.”

“Yet.”

She smiled and toyed with the wrapper on her soda. “So what do you think of the agency?”

“Aw, man. You’re giving me a sales spiel at lunch?”

“No. I’m just curious.”

He crunched more chips. “The setup so far seems similar to what I’ve dealt with in the past. Leon’s really professional, and Con’s a decent guy. The shoots so far have been fine too. Nothing extreme.”

“And you like the other models.”

“You mean Kiana?”

“Not necessarily. You’ve talked to some of the others too.” She shrugged. “But yeah, Kiana as well. You have great chemistry.”

“She’s a nice girl.” He cleared his throat and wondered if this line of conversation would inject a sour note into what had been an easy, pleasant lunch so far. Too easy. “She, ah, invited me to that Hot Shots dinner thing on Saturday.”

Her expression gave nothing away. “Good. I’m glad you’re going.”

“You are too, right?”

“Yeah.” She flipped back her braid and drank more soda. “I’m sure we’ll see you there.”

And there it was, the elusive “we” that had thus far been missing from their conversation. He brushed a hand over his jeans. “I’ve heard the Fontaine Room is a great place. I love fondue.”

“Me too. Their chocolate version is to die for.”

At his dubious look, she laughed. “Seriously. It’s delicious. Aidan and I always get some to go, and it reheats really well.”

“Aidan doesn’t really seem like the fondue kind of guy.” She stared at the grass, and he wished he’d never spoken. He could imagine way too many uses for chocolate fondue, and none of them involved toast points.

“I’ve been told the event’s a lot of fun,” she said, apparently deciding not to touch his Aidan comment. “Manda says they open up a separate room for dancing. Plus they have a section they call the toy box. You know, gotta make it fit the Hot Shots theme.”

“Of course. Dancing, fondue, and sex toys sounds like my kind of night.”

“Will you still be able to teach math if you sign with us?”

He glanced over at her topic change. She traced one of the buttons on his shirt on the grass, clearly preoccupied. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I guess it depends what kind of jobs I take.”

“So that’s why you’re reluctant to sign.”

He cocked a brow at her anxious expression. She cared. That wasn’t fake. Despite her “again” speech, he had serious doubts the level of her feelings approached his, but still. At least there was some amount of…affection between them. Talk about cold comfort.

“One of the reasons, yes.”

“Talk to Con. I bet he could still get you jobs that would make good money but not compromise any possible—”

“It’s probably a pipe dream,” he interrupted. “Stupid to be focused on something that may never happen when my bush is full of birds right now.”

She didn’t smile. “There’s nothing stupid about having a goal and working toward it. You just need to believe you can get there. I believe you can.”

“I’m single, Layla. No wife. No kids. I don’t even have a fucking degree.” He knew he sounded like a petulant brat and didn’t really care. “My ass is firmly planted in New York for the foreseeable future. No restored farmhouses are in the cards.”

Her eyes softened as if he’d mentioned he loved puppies and little girls in baby bonnets. “Restored farmhouse?”

“Yeah.” He bit off the reply. “My mom’s neighbor has been talking for years about selling. I used to think she hadn’t yet because it was supposed to be mine.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“And maybe not.”

She didn’t gripe at him, just pursed her lips. “If you’re worried that Hot Shots won’t support your ambitions down the line, walk.”

“Layla, you’re not getting it. It’s a dream. Not reality. I sucked at school.”

“Bad grades?”

“No. My grades were fine. I just couldn’t concentrate.”

“Thinking about your mom and sister back home?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

“So if you made some cash, then you wouldn’t have to worry.”

“It’s probably not going to happen. Besides, who but me would bypass a career in show business—well, kinda—for something as banal as teaching?”

“It makes sense to me.” She sipped more soda. God, he wanted to lick the purple off her lips. Just suck on them until they were puckered and swollen. “Tell Con your situation. I bet he can get you jobs that’ll up your profile and not screw you over later. The guy’s made schmoozing into its own language.”

“What about you? What could you get me?”

“I don’t have the experience or contacts Con does.” She tilted her head, and a lock of hair skimmed her cheek.

It took all his control not to brush it away. Not to lay her back on the dewy, freshly cut grass and bury himself inside her, right here where anyone could watch.

“No, but you have more heart.” With effort, he dragged his attention from her to the bicyclist who cut between two lunching couples and set off a flurry of complaints in his wake. “I’d go with heart every time, especially when I don’t know who to trust.”

“You’d trust me?” Surprise lined her voice.

“For some reason, I don’t seem to have much choice.”

Once the errant bicyclist disappeared from view, Sawyer unearthed the brownie from the paper bag and smiled at her gasp. It probably wasn’t fair to use chocolate as a distraction, but in this case, he figured it was more than justified. He lifted it to his mouth.

Her sexy mouth curved into a pout. “Hey, I saw that brownie first. Aren’t you going to share?”

“Depends.” He kept on eating, making a show of it. Closing his eyes, smacking his lips. “What do you have to offer in trade?”

“Nothing. You ate all my chips, remember?”

He laughed. “True enough, Neb. So unless you come up with something else, guess I’ll keep this big, moist, chocolaty brownie all to myself.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would. It’s really good. There’s peanut butter in the center.”

“I love peanut butter.” She swallowed, her gaze centered on the hunk of chocolate in his hand. “Do you take IOUs?”

“Nope,” he replied cheerfully.

“But we’re not near the deli, and I need to get back to work soon.”

“So give me something else.”

“Like what?”

Sawyer cocked his head and licked stray crumbs off his thumb. “You.”

With a frown, she glanced around them. “In a public park?”

“No one’s close.” He’d chosen this spot under a huge, protective oak for that very reason. The closest couple sat a good distance away, and no one was looking at them.

Not that he would’ve cared if they were. Something about this woman made him forget his boundaries as if they’d never existed.