Bared Read online

  “Just me.” Rafe had stopped taking pictures and had come close. “You’re cold,” he said, and when she shivered—not because she was cold, but because he spoke near her ear and it sent a wave of something hot and hungry down her spine—he glided his hands up and down her arms. “I have everything I need, let’s go.”

  But he was still touching her. His hands were on her arms. His body had leaned in, so that she felt the hard rock at her back and his hard body at her side. He’d done it in a gesture meant to warm, but it was doing something else entirely.

  “Rafe—”

  “You’ve got goose bumps bigger than the snowflakes.” He pulled his sweater over his head, leaving him in a plain dark blue T-shirt, and offered the sweater to her. “Here.”

  She stared at it. “This would make interesting pages. Hero offers sweater to the woman who’s not who she said she was.”

  “Is work always on your mind?”

  “Yes,” she said honestly, while he tugged his sweater over her head. The inside still held his body heat, his scent and she hugged her arms to herself to keep it close. The arms of the sweater went past the tips of her fingers and when he pulled the body of it down her torso, his fingers brushed her sides, her hips, her thighs where the bottom of the sweater hit.

  Yes, work always had been on her mind.

  Up until now, that is.

  But she didn’t say that, didn’t feel like exposing herself to him any further. By the time he stepped back just a little, his hands still on her waist, her body tingled from head to toe and it had nothing, nothing at all, to do with the weather.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  His fingers squeezed just a little, making her realize something else. He was touching her for the first time, not as her photographer, but as a man.

  And yet she was smart enough to know this wasn’t reality. Reality was home with her laptop frantically trying to get her pages done. Reality was being yelled at by a shortsighted studio executive who wanted bland, stupid characters.

  She had to admit, though, that the scenery out here was damn inspiring. She should reassess that whole home-office thing—

  “What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.

  “That if I had my laptop right this minute I could do my pages in a third of the time I usually take.”

  He blinked, then slowly shook his head. Finally, he let out a little laugh and scratched his head. “You’re still thinking about work.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  He just looked at her for a moment, and her heart took yet another leap.

  She wasn’t even sure the poor organ could take it. “Rafe—” She let out a laugh that sounded nervous even to her ears. “If you’re waiting for the kiss you told me Amber gave you every time you worked together—”

  “I made that up.”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted to shake you up.”

  Now her laugh sounded just plain shaky. “Well, you did that, all right. You shook me up so much I couldn’t think of anything else.”

  “I didn’t think I would be sorry for telling you that lie, but I am.”

  “I’m…not holding a grudge.”

  “I’m glad—”

  Then, in a move that shocked her, he invaded her space—he had quite a habit of doing that and, she had to admit, she liked it. He spread both hands wide on her back, pulled her close, stared down into her eyes and covered her mouth with his.

  Hot, wet and deliciously deep for one beat, he pulled away all too quickly, then stepped back so that his hands fell away from her. “There. Now we’re even.”

  “Right.” With little to no encouragement, she would have asked him for another. Hell, she might even have begged.

  But he’d already turned away.

  Interlude over.

  Which was a good thing. Back to that reality she’d so conveniently forgotten about.

  For both of them.

  8

  RAFE AND STONE SAT in Rafe’s backyard, at the patio table, looking at the proofs they’d spread out in front of them. January through April.

  January and February with Amber were good, taken before she’d gone off to who-knows-where with who-knows-whom. They would fit into the calendar as planned.

  Then there was March. Emma in Kauai in that sheer white number, her lush body surrounded by lush forest in a way that would make a grown man drool.

  Rafe sure as hell was drooling.

  Then there was April, and the desert shots. In that so-called hiking outfit she’d defined the word sexy. He looked at the very last shot he’d taken that day, where there’d been just a hint of a come-hither smile. He’d caught her just before she’d opened her mouth to nab a snowflake on her tongue.

  Her innocent senusualness had driven him to dream about her all week. It was hard to concentrate on getting his new life in order, including finding some nice women to date, when all he could think of was Emma.

  Not that she wasn’t nice, but she was not what he was looking for. First of all, she was in the business. The Hollywood business.

  He knew it was wrong of him to judge her on that alone, but the fact remained that he knew what it did to a person. And he wanted out.

  Then there were her little workaholic tendencies. Admirable that she worked so hard, but damn it, he’d worked hard for so many years. Now that he planned on cutting back, he wanted a woman he could actually see on a regular basis. Wanted someone who could and would give her all to both her job and a relationship.

  Thinking that he might be judging her unfairly, he’d actually tried to contact her to talk. She hadn’t been available and hadn’t returned his call.

  Not exactly a good sign.

  “What do you think?” Stone asked.

  “Not bad.”

  Stone laughed softly. “Not bad, my ass. Those shots in Kauai, and especially those in the desert—they’re the best ones I’ve seen you do, and I’ve seen you do plenty.”

  “The ones of Amber aren’t bad, either.”

  “Nope, but Emma is better.” Stone grinned. “You don’t think Amber would be pissed to see these side by side? She’s going to know, too, though don’t count on her admitting it.”

  Amber would know; she had an eye for such things.

  “Are we set for the next shot?” Stone asked. “Local, right?”

  “Poolside.” Rafe looked around him. “Right here, as a matter of fact.”

  Stone nodded. “I could use a week off from traveling.”

  So could Rafe. The cat that had been asleep in his lap lifted its head and looked around sleepily. Her brown-gray fur stuck up in spots and was missing in others. “Meow.”

  Stone’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe you kept that mangy thing.”

  “She kept me.” Rafe looked down at the cat.

  The cat stared back at Rafe, then jumped down and padded over to a set of two bowls by the steps leading inside. One had water, the other was empty. She looked back at him balefully.

  “I just fed you, Puddles.”

  “Puddles?” Stone repeated.

  Stone shrugged. “She’s the color of one.”

  “A mud puddle, maybe.”

  The cat batted at the empty bowl.

  Rafe sighed and looked at Stone. “She’s a bottomless pit, I swear.”

  Stone grimaced. “She needs a bath.”

  “She’s not exactly fond of water.”

  “She’s not exactly the cute little puppy you’d planned on, either,” Stone noted.

  He grinned helplessly. “I keep showing her the door and she keeps refusing to get out.”

  “It’s a cat,” Stone said. “You put your foot to its butt and push.”

  He’d thought about it, especially that first night when she’d demanded to go out at three in the morning. He’d just fallen asleep when she’d started in again, from the outside this time, wanting back in. They’d had a little discussion that night, and ever since, she’