Uncovered

Dane shook his head. “Just lots of smooth skin. Maybe we should have these photos blown up.”

Clair staggered back against the door. Blow them up? Blow them up! As in, make them…bigger? Her throat closed and she couldn’t draw breath, couldn’t say a single word. She tried to get out a denial, to dissuade them from that horrendous plan, but all that emerged was an appalled squeak.

Harris glanced her way, did a double take, then rushed toward her. “Damn, Clair, you okay?” He caught her arms and physically forced her into a chair. Good thing too, because she was about ready to sink to the floor. Maybe through the floor if she got lucky.

Over his shoulder, Harris said to Alec, “I think she’s been in the heat too long this morning. You got a cold cloth or something?”

Alec was a man of action. Within seconds, he had a pad of paper towels, dripping with icy water from the rest room.

All three big men loomed around her, Harris trying to slap the wet towels against her face, Dane fanning her with a stack of papers, and Alec taking her pulse.

They’d seen her naked.

It wasn’t to be borne. Never in her life had she known such bone-deep humiliation, and it numbed her.

Harris reached for the top button of her blouse. “I’m going to loosen her clothes. She still looks too pale.”

That brought Clair around. She shot to her feet, staggered, got steadied by six big hands, and shoved away from them all. She waved a fist with credible intent. “Touch my clothes and I’ll brain you.”

Harris straightened. He still looked concerned. “You’re all right now?”

She wanted to die. “I, uh…you were right. It was just the heat. I’m fine.”

Dane cocked a brow. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

Clair stared at him, aghast that he’d come to such a conclusion.

Alec nodded. “Celia stayed light-headed when she was pregnant. Especially when she got too warm.”

Laughing, Harris said, “Clair’s not even dating, so unless you can get pregnant from a toilet seat, I don’t think that’s the problem.” He again tried to reach for her top button.

Clair swatted at him. “I’m not preg—”

“She dates,” Dane argued. “Okay, not much, but I know a few months back she was seeing some guy.”

Harris scowled. “She was?” He turned to Clair. “When were you dating? Who was he?”

Ohmigod. No way in hell was Clair going to talk about Kyle. Not with his photographic efforts spread out in all their lack of glory on Dane’s desk. She swallowed, found her voice, and rasped, “Enough. From all of you.”