Her lips parted as she stared up at him, her chest rising and falling. Her cheeks were slightly redder than they’d been before. Was it possible she was as affected by him as he was by her?
As if she couldn’t help herself, she closed the distance between them, so that their chests brushed, and he thought belatedly that he should step back. Get away. But before he could, she made a small gasping sound as the hard shaft in his pants brushed her stomach.
But she didn’t step back. She didn’t move at all. He could reach out a hand and brush his fingers along the tops of her full breasts. He could bend down and take that gorgeous mouth, find out if she tasted as good as she looked.
He didn’t even make a conscious effort to do it, and he hadn’t realized that he had bent down, intent on pressing his lips to hers, until she inhaled sharply and stepped back, taking her scent with her, along with her warm eyes and those sweetly parted lips.
Her brown eyes flickered, her head dipped, so he couldn’t see what those expressive eyes held.
Great, so now he’d sexually harassed the photographer. Before he got himself in further trouble, before he said or did something worse, he clamped his lips shut, shot her his best impassive expression, and nodded curtly.
Then he turned around, pushed the door open with an aggressive shove, and resisted all his instinct to catch one last glimpse of the enchanting Lissa Kingsman.
Chapter Two
Lissa finished editing the images of Grant and then fired them off in an email to Sal at the Willow Park Daily.
It was Monday, the day after the shoot at Gamers, and Lissa was in her photography studio on Main Street. She loved her little place in a strip mall that also had a grocery, a liquor store, and a gift shop.
Her finger hovered over the button of her mouse and she bit her lip, staring at her raw images folder. Just one peek. Her assistant was off getting lunch for them, so no one would know.
With a sharp intake of breath, she opened the folder and scrolled to the one image she’d managed to take—okay, steal—of Ethan Talley. He’d said no pictures and she’d honored that…kind of. She hadn’t sent this picture to Sal to use, and Lissa now felt like a total creep, but she’d wanted a little something of the man who’d intrigued her.
In the picture, he was staring out the window. She’d snapped it when he wasn’t paying attention, when he thought she was taking pictures of Grant, but she’d clicked the shutter when she dropped the camera to her side. He was in profile, the sun highlighting his face, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
He’d been about to kiss her in the foyer at the Gamers office. And for a moment, she’d been about to let him. Something about his cold glare, his pained expression, his all black suit made her want to see what he’d be like warmed up. Hell, even with a smile.
She pressed a hand to her chest, her breath catching when she realized she hadn’t seem him smile once.
Back when he was E-Rad, his smile was ever-present on his handsome face. She was sure he was rarely recognized, if ever. If it wasn’t for his voice, which she knew so well, he probably wouldn’t have seemed familiar at all.
There was a chasm, a whole lifetime, it seemed, between E-Rad and Ethan Talley.
She leaned closer, narrowing her eyes on the scars creeping up his neck. “What happened to you, Ethan?”
Would a kiss from her have brought a smile to his face? She wasn’t so sure she had magical powers like that. Plus, she still wanted to find a way to get him to commit to her project. Getting involved romantically with him, while it sounded insanely hot, was unethical. Kissing him—and maybe more—was not the way to get him to agree to let her take his picture. She had principles, after all.
The bell over the front door chimed, and Lissa slid the image to a password-protected folder then closed out all of her windows.
Her assistant, Daniel Huang, dropped a Chipotle bag on her desk. “Here’s your burrito bowl, Master.”
She snatched it up and pulled out the container. “I told you not to call me that.”
Daniel grinned and sank down onto a chair beside her, propping his feet on her desk. She pointed at the soles of his Vans. “And I told you not to do that!”
He just shrugged and stuffed a taco in his mouth.
Her assistant was cheeky. But he was very organized—unlike her—and was excellent at making little children laugh so their parents were thrilled with their portraits, so she kept him around. He was a student at the local university but only took classes part-time. The rest of the time, he was hers to torture. “Thanks for getting lunch.”
“No problem, I was hungry for guac. So did you manage to score pictures of that guy at the magazine?”