“OK, let’s give that dragon some face time.”
Eric turned his back to the camera.
Karen clicked away.
Mina died a little inside. Why had Eric had to ask her to the coffee shop on that day – the one where she’d had to run out on him after five minutes? Would there have been a second date if things had gone differently? She chewed the inside of her lip, casting a cursory glance at the tattoo magazine because she was afraid Eric would feel her hungry stare on his back. It had probably been for the best that she’d had to leave. How could she possibly keep a guy – especially a hot one like Eric – interested when she devoted ninety-five percent of her time to caring for Jess and working at the bank? She spent what little free time she had tending the dozens of potted plants she’d cultivated in her apartment. Not exactly man-catching material. She might as well face it – she was boring.
“That should do,” Karen finally said, lowering her camera and smiling down at the screen like it was her first-born child. “Unless…” A thoughtful expression played across her face.
Eric arched an eyebrow. “Unless?”
Karen surprised Mina by glancing back at her, and Eric followed her gaze. A flush heated Mina’s cheeks as his blue eyes locked with hers. He’d caught her looking. Karen was talking to her, but she couldn’t spare her a glance. Her world was rapidly dwindling to include only herself, Eric and the silent connection between them.
“I was thinking – I could probably get some really incredible shots if you two were willing to pose together.”
If she’d been eating or drinking, Mina would have choked. “Together? Eric and me?”
Karen nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. You both have gorgeous tattoos. Don’t you think it’d be cool?”
Mina shrugged, intensely aware of Eric’s gaze on her. A part of her wanted to skip onto the set and sidle right up to him. Another part wanted to sink into the chair and never reappear again. “Did the owner of Hot Ink ask for shots like that?”
Karen shook her head slowly. “No, but if they turn out anything like what I’m picturing, I think he’ll be glad I took them. So if it’s all right with you two…” She looked directly at Eric.
“It’s fine with me,” he said.
Mina swallowed the knot of anxiety that had formed in her throat. “OK.” What else could she have said after he’d agreed?
Karen beamed. “Fantastic.” She picked up the length of red silk and tossed it to Mina.
She managed to catch it, if just barely, and promptly turned the same color as the fabric. The thought of posing with a shirtless Eric, barely covered by the thin silk…it was downright naughty. Decadent. And embarrassing.
Eric politely turned away, facing the background. The black and grey dragon leered at Mina from between his shoulder blades. Feeling as if she were moving in slow motion, she pulled her shirt over her head and quickly clutched the silk to her chest. It didn’t do nearly enough to hide her nipples, which hardened as the material glided over them. She let the fabric bunch and drape, hopefully obscuring her femininity at least a little.
A few moments later, she was standing in front of the paper background with barely two feet of space separating her and Eric.
“Scoot a little closer to him, Mina.” Karen gave directions without a hint of empathy for Mina’s shyness. “Put your shoulder against his chest.”
Mina’s entire being flooded with warmth as her skin met his and a shiver raced down her spine despite the heat. She prayed that he hadn’t felt it. His chest was as smooth, firm and hot as a rock left out beneath the sun. She willed the tension out of her muscles, forcing herself to relax against him at Karen’s insistence.
“Try to look natural,” she instructed.
Mina suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Look natural while leaning against the shirtless guy who’d constantly been making his way into her daydreams over the past couple weeks? Not likely. She was no actress.
“Eric, rest your hand on her hip.”
Mina’s skin pebbled as he obeyed, settling a hand on the denim of her jeans, and her nipples shrunk to what had to be an all-time record of tininess beneath her flamboyant red excuse for modesty. She clung to it helplessly, feeling as if she’d been swept out to sea by a riptide of hopeless longing. They were so close, she could feel his breath on her neck. If he knew how much that fact affected her, he’d probably think she was an idiot. In reality, she was a twenty-four year old with the responsibilities of a forty year old and hardly any more romantic experience than a teenager. It was a devastating combination, especially when she considered that she might have had a chance at feeling him touch her this way outside of a photo shoot if things had been different.