Don't Tempt Me...

“It was a hobby until late in college.” She put a white satin ensemble on the rack. “I thought I’d be a psychologist or social worker, until I took this portrait-photography class on a lark and it was like lightning and thunder striking at the same time. It was a way to combine my curiosity about people with my interest in art. I was absolutely electrified by the idea. I never looked back.”

“I can see that.” I see you. He had an unnerving way of pulling her in tight. Nice, really, and it made her feel like they’d known each other longer than the couple of hours that had passed since he’d shown up at her counter. “Photography can take hold of you for sure,” he added.

“You love it, too, huh?”

“Half the time when I was freelancing, I’d forget to bill the magazine.” He smiled wistfully.

“It shows. Your work is remarkable. That vulture shot…”

“Yeah. I waited all day for that one.”

“All day? That would kill me.”

“That’s how it is with wildlife. You have to be patient. You have to know the animal’s habits and you have to be willing to wait.”

“That’s positively brutal. And unpredictable. I like to plan out a shot, get everything just so, full control.”

“But what about the surprise factor? You know the shot at Canyon de Chelly?”

“With the surreal blue sky and gold light?”

“Yeah. For that my batteries were almost drained and I had one frame, but the scene stopped me dead. That one ran in Arizona Highways.”

“I’m not surprised.”

He gave her an unguarded grin of pride. “I was lucky.”

“No. When you’re good, you make your luck.”

They looked at each other, connected by the shared love of taking pictures. She’d never dated a photographer before. Interesting….

You can’t date him. You hired him.

“So, how did you get into sex shots?” This question came out a little hard and startled her.

“Boudoir shots,” she corrected. “Or intimate photos. If you’re going to work with me you need to use the right vocabulary.”

“Sure. Do people ever ask for something more?”

“You mean like Joey? He was ready to strip, huh?” She started to laugh, but he interrupted her.

“I mean more graphic.” His eyes dug in, diamond-sharp with focus, and she felt stung.

“You mean, do I shoot porn?” Angry, she slid her locket back and forth hard on its chain. It was bad enough she got those awful calls, now her new employee was asking her the question. “Absolutely not. I believe the human body is beautiful. Sex, too. And I won’t exploit either one. I would think that you would already get that. And let me add that if that’s what you’re looking for, then—”

“Sorry. No. That’s not what I want. And I get it. I’m sorry I asked.”

He wore the strangest expression, as if she’d just passed some test she didn’t know she’d been given. He looked relieved.

So strange. He’d insulted her and he was relieved she’d snapped at him.

Worse, she was glad. She wanted him to like her. Part of her wanted to slip into a comfortable intimacy with this man. Part of her held back, sensing there was something he wasn’t telling her that she needed to know.

And the rest of her just plain wanted him.

4

RICK’S GUT CLENCHED at Samantha’s reaction to his question. Her cheeks were splotched with red, as if he’d slapped them with his words. He’d had to ask. It was his job. Now she was dragging that pendant along its chain so hard it seemed about to cut her pretty neck.

“You’re going to snap the links,” he said, catching her hand over the medallion. “I’m sorry, Samantha. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He released her hand, still feeling her warm fingers against his palm.

“It’s all right,” she said, releasing a breath, clearly trying to settle herself. “I just hate being misjudged. And if you’re going to work with me, you have to understand what I’m trying to do.”

“I do.” More or less. And her answer had relieved him. He wanted her to be exactly what she seemed to be. Which was no way for a cop to feel about a suspect, but what the hell.

“I want my clients to see past society’s rules about beauty and recognize what’s uniquely attractive about them.”

Like Misty in her party hat, he guessed. Bizarre, but Samantha’s eyes burned with conviction and he respected that. “You did that with Misty, right?”

“Exactly. When it all works, I get this…impression…almost a double image. Something extra shines at me through the lens. And I try to capture that on film.” She shot him a look of shy pride, then blushed. “You probably think that makes me crazy. I mentioned it to a girl in my portrait class over margaritas and she looked at me like I should check myself in somewhere.”

She blushed again, embarrassed by her confession.

“I’m glad you told me. I’m honored.” That sounded hokey as hell, but it was almost true. More double-life confusion.

He felt split in half—intrigued by this woman and also suspicious of her, sorting through every word for inconsistencies or clues to the case even as he flat out wanted her.

“Luckily, you’re my loyal assistant or I’d have to kill you. I mean, now that you know my secret.” She waggled her eyebrows, trying to act cool when she clearly felt exposed.

Which made him want to look out for her all the more.

Something about her got to him. Maybe the banked fire in her eyes, that wild desire that peeked out, a kid behind a curtain, daring herself to be brave.

Which wasn’t good. He had to keep personal reactions to a minimum, even as he built the illusion that they shared a bond, that she could trust him, tell him anything.

God, he hated undercover work.

“Bianca said the photograph you took of her saved her marriage,” he said, folding another damnable panty.

“She believes that, yeah.”

“Seems like if people love each other they don’t need tungsten lighting or lacy underwear.” He held up a package of garters. They looked plain painful.

“My photos can’t fix a dead love,” she said. “But sometimes people forget what they mean to each other. The picture reminded Darien.”

“If you say so.” He shook his head, unable to hide his skepticism completely.

“The most important thing was that Bianca saw herself in a new way,” she said, dragging that necklace back and forth again. It was a locket and he wondered what it held. “And whenever she doubts herself, she has the picture to remind her.”