“You want me to torture another poor client?”
“No. I have a better idea. Practice on me.”
“On you?” He swallowed hard.
“Exactly. Just like learning CPR on a doll. I’ll pretend to be a client and you take a boudoir shot of me.”
“A shot of you? I don’t think so. Maybe I’ll just watch you more closely.”
She shook her head. “We learn best by doing.”
“You expect me to take a picture of you…dressed like…” He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He pulled at his collar.
“We can be professional about this, Rick.”
“Like I said. Not a good idea.” He folded his arms. No way.
“It’s not your girlfriend, is it? She trusts you to work here, right? Surrounded by nearly naked women? I mean she knows about your job…?”
“It’s not that. It’s…”
She was enjoying seeing him squirm a little. After all, he had lied to her. “What? What is it?”
He swallowed again, then seemed to think it through, take on the challenge and leveled his gaze at her. “Okay. You win. If you can handle it, so can I.”
“Great. Let’s start with my outfit.” She took a deep breath and let out the words in a slow tease. “How do you see me, Rick? In leather? Velvet? Silk? Something see-through perhaps?”
His eyes went bright and his words were low and serious. “You’d look great in all of it and I think you know that.”
Warmth shot through her at his tone. He felt the tug of lust, too, thank goodness, because she needed his resistance to collapse fast. She had only so much boldness in her.
She maintained her professionalism for the moment. “Generally, Rick, you’ll want to offer direct guidance to the client, but for now, let’s say I’ve already decided what to wear. Because I have. I’m going for an exotic temptress look, so how about you set up studio two for me?”
“If you say so.” He sighed. “Any particular backdrop or props?”
“Surprise me.”
“Somehow, I think that’s impossible.” What are you up to? he asked her with his eyes, but she only winked and hip-swayed away, pretending a calm she didn’t feel. Her heart tripped like a hummingbird’s wings.
In the dressing room, she grabbed the leopard-patterned bikini top with a matching skirted bottom she’d decided on. It had a wide woven band that would de-emphasize her little tummy bulge. Trembling, she changed into the outfit. No shoes or stockings. They’d have all Rick’s clothes to deal with as it was. She looked at herself in the mirror, hoping for the best.
She looked…exposed. And too obvious.
She hated how fast sexy turned into slutty in her mind. But there was no help for it. To make herself feel better, she threw on a purple silk cape, hooking the gold-braid clasp and letting the hood bunch at her neck. The cloth whispered across her arms and brushed her thighs in a luxurious way. In the cape, she looked regal and sultry. Plus, now Rick could adjust the fabric around her body.
She looked better. Well, except for her flushed face, feverish eyes and the way she was shaking. How could she draw Rick into her fantasy, when she looked downright scared?
Light flashed off her locket where it lay over the cape and she opened it, turning the photograph inside so she could take some courage from it. In the picture, she looked a little nervous, but still very sexy. Seeing the photo again made her breathe more deeply, feel more calm.
Samantha looked from the locket to the mirror and realized she looked great. She would be great. With a swish of her cape, she strode off to make something wonderful happen for herself.
When she entered studio two, Rick turned, holding a blue velvet pillow in one big hand, the digital camera around his neck. At the sight of her, something powerful seemed to pass through him. “You look…wow,” he said, his eyes raking over her. “I picked this to match your eyes.” He lifted the blue pillow.
“You noticed my eyes?”
“Sure.” He shrugged as if it were only one of many things he’d cataloged about her. He gestured at the set. “Look okay?”
He’d placed the tiger-striped chaise at an angle, with the wire arch behind, twined with swaths of faux leopard fabric that happened to match her bra. There were two other pillows—one purple, one black resting against the head of the chaise.
“It looks perfect,” she said.
“So do you.” His voice sounded thick with hunger and that made desire pool in her abdomen.
“So how do you want me?” she said.
He stared at her. “You don’t really want me to answer that.”