Red-Hot Nights: Daring in the Dark

Something dark and sexy underlay the note of droll amusement in his voice that sent a wave of desire washing through her. Attention was good for starters, but she definitely wanted more.

“Would you photograph me while we’re waiting on the lights to come on? Not for Elliott this time but for me?”

“I’M NOT FOR HIRE,” HE SAID. Agreeing to photograph Tawny would be a combined act of madness and desperation.

“Oh.” Her disappointment wasn’t feigned.

Who was he kidding? He might as well get real with himself. Photographing her would be a sweet torture. Making love to her with his camera was a dismal substitute for actually touching and tasting her but far safer. And when it came down to it, he was incapable of denying her anything. He’d give her the moon if it was his to offer.

“But I will do it for free.”

She shook her head, freeing a few strands of hair that promptly clung to her cheek. She brushed them back. “No. I insist on paying.”

“Trust me. I’m a selfish bastard. You’re much less likely to cry in front of a camera. It isn’t gratis as much as self-preservation.”

“I only cry when I’m really angry, so you’re safe unless you make me mad.” She smiled. “I’m beginning to think you’re not a selfish bastard at all but that’s the image you like to project.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Then we’ll barter. I’ll plan a party for you one day.”

“Absolutely.” Right. He had one friend. Elliott. And he wasn’t feeling like throwing a party for him at the moment.

“Or I could set something up more private, for you and your lady if you decided to approach her,” she said, as if she’d read his mind.

“You did offer to help me with my sad love life, didn’t you?”

“I could set up something very nice and romantic. You really should approach her. You’ve got so much to offer a woman.”

“I’ve already agreed to photograph you. Blatant lies aren’t necessary,” Simon said. He laughed to cover his pounding heart.

Tawny smiled and caught him totally off guard when she tossed a small pillow at him and it bounced off of his chest.

“Maybe you need a little dose of your own hard-line truth. Whoever this wonder woman is would be damn lucky to have you. I think you’re hiding a very nice guy behind your aloofness. You’re smart, occasionally very funny, talented, sexy and I give you high marks in the kissing department.”

He didn’t know what the hell to say. “Okay.”

“At least think about it,” she said. “Decide what kind of evening you’d like to have with your own true love. I bet if you ask her, she’ll say yes, and I can take care of the rest.”

She faced him from the other end of the couch like a luscious piece of fruit just out of reach. Well, unfortunately, closer to his reach than was comfortable. And he didn’t have to think about it too hard. He’d want it similar to this. Candlelight. A bottle of wine. Her. Him. Soft, seductive music. He’d sit in a chair and she’d stand just out of reach and slowly peel her clothes off until she was splendidly naked. She’d come closer, close enough for him to touch the velvet of her skin, cup the fullness of her breasts, cull the dew of her desire, inhale the scent of her skin and arousal…. He jerked himself back from the precipice of lust he’d almost plunged over headfirst. “I promise I’ll think about it.”

“Just let me know when.”

“Sure.” He levered himself off the couch and crossed to his equipment stored by her door. “Now that we have an agreement, what’s your favorite room? Your favorite place? Where do you spend most of your time?”

He pulled out his camera and began setting up the lens. He relaxed into the rote task, pleased to focus on something tangible, something other than his feelings for Tawny.

She hesitated. “The couch is my favorite spot.”

He wasn’t buying it. She’d thought about it too long for him to believe her.

He looked at her across the candlelit room. She sat perched on her knees, bracing her arms on the sofa back, watching him.

“Come on, Tawny. What happened to honesty in the dark and all that? Let’s try this again. What’s your favorite place in your flat?”

Her chin rose a notch. Ah, that was his girl. “The tub. It’s an old claw-foot. Great for soaking.”

Click. Instant photo in his head. Her, hair piled atop her head, steam rising, skin glistening. He swallowed.

“What’s your next favorite place?” No way she missed the hoarseness in his voice, but bloody hell, he was only human.

“The bedroom.” Only marginally safer than the bathroom, with her big sleigh bed, but at least naked wasn’t a given. “And my least favorite room is the kitchen. I don’t like to cook and neither the kitchen nor this room has windows. They feel claustrophobic.”

“Then let’s photograph you in the bedroom.” He strove for a professional tone. She’d hit on the perfect solution to his problem. Photographing her, he became a professional engaged in a shoot instead of Simon Thackeray besotted with Tawny Edwards.

“I definitely want to change clothes. I’m hot and sticky.”

“Fine. Take your time. I’ll finish setting up my equipment.”

“It won’t take me long.” She picked up a candle and hesitated. “Would you, uh, mind just walking me to the bedroom until I light the candles?” That’s right, he’d blown them out earlier. “I hate walking into a dark room.”

She had major issues with the dark. But then again, he had major issues with getting too close in relationships. He knew that. Particularly after one of his girlfriends had flung the accusation at him on her way out the door. Everyone had their own neuroses to bear. “Sure. I’ll lead the way so you don’t have to walk into the dark room.”

“Thank you, Simon.”

Her soft voice with it’s honeyed Southern drawl slid beneath his skin. Ridiculous, really, that she looked at him as if he’d just agreed to slay dragons on her behalf. Even more ridiculous how good it made him feel.

“You’re welcome, Tawny.”

A fat candle in hand, he led the way, aware of her close behind him. Unfortunately for him, he now knew how delicious her mouth tasted, how her curves fit against his body as if she’d been tailor-made for him. Just before he reached her room, she placed her hand lightly on his back. Her touch hummed through him.

“Wait a minute. Let’s stop by the bathroom. A nice cold washcloth would be heavenly right now. I bet you could use one, too.”

How about a nice icy shower? But he’d get by with a cool cloth. “Sure.”

He stepped through the dark doorway to his left, the candle illuminating a rectangular room with a small, high window. A claw-foot tub with a circular shower curtain pushed to one side sat beneath the window. The mirror over the sink reflected his light and brightened the bathroom.

Simon sucked in a deep breath as her hip and breast brushed his side, her fingers slid along his back as she squeezed past him in the confines.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“No problem.”

She placed her votive on a small shelf next to the sink. Thick, fluffy towels and washcloths sat neatly folded in an open cabinet. She plucked two cloths from the stack and held them under the cold-water tap.

Simon waited beside the sink, next to the door. She squeezed excess water from the cloth and passed one to him.

He ran it over his heated face and watched Tawny do the same. She slid the cloth over her neck, rolling her head to one side and then the other. A half moan, half sigh escaped her. “How good does this feel?” she asked, her voice low, husky, intimate.

“It’s somewhere past good.” Icy droplets trickled down his throat, raising gooseflesh. It wouldn’t surprise him to hear the water sizzle on his skin. She definitely had him hot and bothered. The cloth might be cooling him down, but she was heating him right back up.

“Here. Let me wet it again.” She took his cloth and held it under the cold faucet. She held it out to him dripping wet.