THE SETUP WAS FINE, Rick realized, looking at the shot through the viewfinder. The fake-fur throw offered texture, the translucent lace backdrop gave an ethereal effect and the hair light made Mary Jane’s dark hair gleam golden. The combination of tungsten and a reflected fill-flash would give a warm white glow. The setup was great.
The costume was fine, too, if a little hokey—a short red robe with a deep vee trimmed with white lace, making Mary Jane look like a Valentine heart.
But the woman needed work. She looked morose and miserable, and her position was far too tense.
This was the hard part. The part where he had to position her and talk her into the right mood.
He went to crouch beside her, cupping the camera in a palm. “How about if you lean toward me and let your, uh, chest come forward.”
She shifted as he’d asked. Better.
“Now, move this thigh a few inches to the left.” He tapped the stocking-covered knee of that leg and she moved it. “Great. Now tuck one arm this way.” He demonstrated on his own body.
She hesitated, tried, but didn’t get it right.
“May I?” he asked.
She nodded permission and he moved her arm. It felt purposeful and professional, not at all like with Samantha, where merely placing a palm on her body had set him on fire.
“Do I look okay?” Mary Jane asked.
“Getting there.” He had to do something about her wooden smile. “Tell me who this photograph is for.”
“My husband Bo. For our anniversary. We’ve been married seven years.” But she looked wistful, not happy about it. Maybe Bo was bored or had the seven-year itch.
Rick hated being this close to personal pain. Sweat trickled down the sides of his face and along his ribs. “That’s a long time to be married. It’s good to, uh, remind yourselves why you got together.”
“You think so?” She sounded so hopeful.
“Sure.” Samantha would be working her romantic magic about now, so he decided to give it a try. “How about you close your eyes and think about a special time with Bo?” Let it not be sex. He couldn’t take that.
“A special time?” Mary Jane closed her eyes, frowned, then a smile spread. “I know. Our honeymoon at the Princess. Bo made the arrangements and he had roses for me and champagne and he’d made a heart of chocolates on the sheets. No drugstore sampler, either. Gourmet truffles.”
“Sounds great.” And explained her choice in lingerie. She’d dressed like a box of Valentine’s Day chocolates.
“It was.” She opened her eyes. “We ended up with melted chocolate all over everything.”
Click. He’d caught a great look—sweet and wicked.
She blinked. “Oh.”
“That was nice. Keep talking. Try to forget I’m here. Tell me more about how Bo treated you on your honeymoon.” But, please no sex.
He glanced up to see Samantha in the doorway. She shot him a thumbs-up and his heart swelled with unexpected pride.
“He was so sweet,” Mary Jane said. “He couldn’t take his eyes off me the whole weekend.” She gave a dreamy smile.
Click. He caught it. Not bad.
Wordlessly, Samantha moved to the tripod and began taking pictures with the Hasselblad, nodding at him after each one.
By the time they finished, Rick was worn out and dripping with sweat, but they’d snagged some nice frames. Samantha gestured for him to keep running things, so he loaded the digital images for Mary Jane to preview. He invoked the slide show and the first shot flared.
Mary Jane gasped. “That’s me?” She plain beamed at him.
“That’s you,” he said, pleased, too. They watched the show, while Mary Jane sighed and gasped and said wow and oh at each picture. He couldn’t help grinning.
When the last shot faded to black, she turned to him with tears in her eyes and hugged him hard. “You’re amazing.”
“Just doing my job,” he muttered, as mortified as hell, but happy, too. Samantha winked at him from behind Mary Jane.
They walked her out and, after the door closed, Samantha turned to him, leaning against the still-wobbly counter. He had to fix that thing.
“You did a great job, Rick. I hope you’re proud of yourself. It’s no small thing to turn a relationship around.”
“I just took a few pictures.”
“And they’ll remind Bo how he felt when he made a heart out of pricey chocolates just to please his bride.”
“You’re a romantic,” he said, liking that about her, even though he knew love wasn’t that simple.
“What about you? You want one woman for the rest of your life. What’s more romantic than that?”