Bared Read online

  She blew a strand of hair from her face. “‘Come on,’ he says,” she muttered, and used her free hand to yank at the jean shorts that couldn’t possibly be yanked at because there simply wasn’t enough material. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  Coming. Such an innocent word, really, so why it put a picture in his brain of her sprawled out and naked beneath him, coming, he had no idea.

  He shook his head and strove to find something else to think about. “I thought you’ve been running and taking yoga,” he said. Emma vexed and puzzled him, so he felt like vexing and puzzling her back.

  “Running?”

  Apparently the twins did have at least one thing in common—a healthy dislike of strenuous exercise. “You know, jogging? To keep fit?”

  “Oh. Yes.”

  He glanced at her in time to see her worry her lower lip, and bit back his own grim smile. He really had no idea why he loved torturing her, but he wasn’t nearly done. “Because I have to tell you, Amber, you need to get a refund on that private trainer you hired.”

  When the wind whipped up her hair and blew it across her face, she irritatedly shoved the hair away. “She’s, um, been on vacation.”

  “You mean ‘he?’ He’s been on vacation?”

  Dismayed, she just looked at him.

  The cost of her clothing—$150.

  The price of her makeup and hair—$200.

  The look on her face—priceless.

  “Yes,” he said. “You remember Harris. The trainer you use four times a week.”

  “Clearly,” she said, and she managed a laugh. “I shouldn’t walk and talk at the same time.”

  He couldn’t help it, he laughed, too. Poor baby, being so torn between having to lie and needing to keep the cover—God only knows why.

  And damned if he wasn’t attracted to her innocence even as the continued lie bugged the hell out of him.

  Somehow it combined, in some weird way, to work as a powerful aphrodisiac. It was sick, he knew, being turned on by her under the circumstances and he knew he had to ignore it.

  And her.

  At least, the best he could. Luckily, they reached the top. He admired the view and took a deep breath, but when he turned to her, he let the breath out with a laugh.

  Bent, hands on her knees, she huffed and puffed for air. “Don’t say a word.”

  “Word.”

  She laughed. “Why do you do that? Why are you so…”

  “So…?”

  “So tough? Hard to crack?”

  He just looked at her and her open expression shuttered.

  “You know, there’s something I’d really like to tell you,” she said. “But it’s complicated.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t tell you.”

  “That doesn’t make much sense, Amber.” He emphasized her name, and she winced a little.

  “I know.”

  Above them, the clouds were moving like a speeding train. He didn’t want to have to bail back to the cars and sit and wait out another storm. “What are the chances you’re going to tell me the thing that you can’t tell me?”

  “Small,” she said apologetically. Her eyes were filled with conflict. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

  “Tell me, anyway.”

  “I have a better idea. Let’s just do this.”

  Fine. “Wait here.” He went to the edge where he wanted her to stand during the shoot. In spite of the whipping wind, Stone had set up already, and with the lighting perfect, they were ready.

  “Now’s better than later,” Stone said, checking his light meter. “I don’t think we have a later.”

  Rafe glanced upward, watched the clouds rumbling. Yep, they were losing time quickly. He looked back at Emma. She was bent over again, and he took a moment to take in the nice view of the hot shorts riding up her—

  “Now, that’s the shot that would sell millions,” Stone said in appreciation. “She should bottle that ass and—” He broke off when Rafe growled. “What?”

  “She’s our model.”

  “Right. I think I know that.” Stone eyed him. “Don’t look now, man, but you’re doing it again.” He waggled a knowing eyebrow. “Just like last week. You’re acting like you’re interested in her beyond how she looks through your lens.”

  “And you’re doing it again.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Talking too much.”

  Stone just laughed. “So…when are you going to tell her we know she’s not Amber?”

  Stone took another look at Emma. She straightened and swiped at her brow, then grimaced and checked her arm, presumably to see if she’d smeared her makeup. She had, he could see from here, and she sent a sweet smile of apology to Jen, who rushed over with her bag.

  Amber never would have apologized, nor would she have wiped her face on her forearm. Because, at all times, Amber was intensely aware of her makeup and how she looked.

  Clearly, Emma wasn’t.

  He waited until she’d been repaired, waited until she stood alone near the edge of the rock formation. Near the edge and yet far back. Apparently she was trying to look and trying not to look at the same time, while casually glancing around her to see if anyone was watching her.

  As well as being unused to a lot of makeup, Emma didn’t like heights.

  And she obviously didn’t like being so exposed. Her hair was still whipping around her face, and through the halter top he could see her nipples puckering against the material…just before she crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself.

  For the oddest reason, that got him, and he moved to her side, blocking her from view of the others. “Cold?”

  She shrugged.

  Not a complainer, he’d give her that. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Startled, she glanced at him as if not sure what he was referring to. When she saw him looking out to the desert beyond them, she relaxed a little.

  “I never would have imagined, but it is. The Joshua trees look like tall, skinny old men.”

  “You should see them in winter. Once in a great while it snows. Then they look like tall, skinny old women.”

  She laughed and the sound tugged at the corners of his mouth until he found himself smiling back at her.

  Their gazes and the humor connected them, and then their smiles slowly faded but they didn’t stop looking at each other. He could see the pulse at the base of her neck kick into gear and he knew how she felt because his own had started cooking, too.

  He’d been around beautiful women for years now, and somehow, at some part, he’d grown immune. Not that he’d stopped seeing them or acted like a monk, because he surely hadn’t. But it seemed that the more time went by, the less he felt moved by any particular woman.

  It was all tied up with his need to stop doing this kind of photography, to settle down and find one woman, the one who could excite him for the rest of his life.

  Which meant he had to finish this shoot. “Ready?”

  “Here,” Stone said, pointing to her mark. Next to it was an ancient-looking rock formation—three large rocks, one on top of another so that they stood just slightly below the height of her shoulders. “Lean on them,” he instructed her. “Toss your head back, with your hair over one shoulder so we can see the line of your spine.”

  And her ass. Rafe could see that thought flash through her mind and he contained his grin at her look of dismay. Maybe she’d tell him right now. His smile vanished because he couldn’t believe how much he wanted that, wanted her to confess to him.

  Instead she stepped onto her mark, put her hands on the rocks and arched her back, just a little, and with the beautiful and eerie desert as her background, and with her long brunette hair flowing over one shoulder, she looked back at him.

  Her skin looked positively luminous, the red halter only emphasizing her willowy yet curvy form. Her legs were so long that they exceeded the legal limit, and capping them off with hiking boots had been a stroke of genius. She loo