Forbidden Fantasies Bundle(55)

Happily hazy from the wine, she joined him. Ignoring the lump of the lens under her skull, the rocks digging into her back through the blanket, she noticed instead the way the sunlight came through the aspen leaves, how the breeze lifted her hair from her forehead, cooling the sweat on her face and how close Rick lay beside her. Their arms almost touched and their chests rose and fell in time. The intimacy was as cozy and warm as a hot bath.

“So what do you think of outdoor photography?” he asked, turning his face toward her on its canvas pillow.

She turned to him, too, liking his warm breath on her face. “It’s different than studio work. Quieter. Messier. In some ways faster, in others slower. You could wait all day and never get a decent shot.”

“Timing is everything. True.”

“Or you could sleep in and miss it altogether.”

“But when you get that shot it’s worth it all.” He gave a sleepy smile of pure pleasure. He’d shown himself to be infinitely patient when he showed her what to do. She imagined he’d put up with a lot from the woman he loved. He’d give her the benefit of the doubt, lavish all the attention she could stand. Lucky woman.

“The best part is you don’t have to please anyone but yourself,” he continued. “You take the shots you want the way you want them.”

“Not like with portraits, huh?” she said. “Pleasing the client is the whole point of a studio.”

“Outdoor work isn’t so invasive. I’ll never get used to staring into people’s hearts like that. Seeing their sadness, their fear, their hopes.” He shuddered in pretend agony.

“But that’s why they come to us—so we can see them as they really are—and capture them on film. That’s what I love.”

“Yeah. I get that about you.”

“Feeling how you feel, Rick, it seems odd that you’d want this job. I thought that from the first day.”

“I’m learning…like I said. I wanted to learn from you.” There was that flicker in his face again, like he was hiding something from her. His green eyes went opaque, like a light doused, and his emotions shut down like blinds dropped hard.

“Do I make you nervous? Asking questions?”

“Not really. You make me think.”

But it was more than that, she could tell. Energy changed between them, shifted, like the clouds easing by overhead, the leaves shivering in the whispering breeze. She had to push. She had to have more. “So what do I make you think about?”

“About who I am, what I’m doing, I guess.”

And what are you doing? What do you want to do?

She wanted to get naked. Still. Would it ever stop?

“Cumulus…with an undercoat of nimbus,” he murmured, looking past her. He’d made it sound like a sex act.

She turned to see a pile of clouds as fluffy as mashed potatoes with dark streaks beneath.

“Rain’s on the way. Maybe by tonight.”

“So, you’re a meteorologist, too?” she said.

“I have to know my palette—sunlight and cloud cover.”

“You do know clouds, that’s for sure. That shot of the gold-blasted ones in your portfolio made me melt.”

“Don’t say melt,” he said, pushing up on his elbow to look down at her. “I’ve seen you do that.”

Arousal surged through her. “You made me do that.” For an instant, she thought he might kiss her. Instead, he pushed her hair away from her cheek.

The breeze blew across her face and she realized she smelled faintly of dirt. “No bees will chase me now. I smell like the creek.”

“No you don’t.” He dipped his nose into her hair and breathed in. “You smell like you always do.”

“Were you smelling my hair when we took those shots of Verde Valley?”

He chuckled. “You got me. I couldn’t resist. I can’t tell if it’s your shampoo or your hair or your perfume or just your skin. You just smell…great.”

“I like how you smell, too. And I love your eyes. They’re the exact color of the moss up here, did you know that?”

“I didn’t.”

“But they change color, too. From moss to emerald to olive-green.”

“Your eyes are so blue they almost hurt to look at.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah.” He studied her. “That pillow didn’t come close to the color.” He slid his gaze away and it seemed to snag on her arm. “Mosquito bites,” he said frowning, counting down her arm with a gentle finger. “Two…three…four.”

“They’re all over.” She held up her other arm for his count, his tickling finger, which she wanted to keep counting down her body.