Then he kissed her. They didn’t even pretend that they didn’t want to. She came into his arms willingly and tilted her head back to greet his descending mouth.
Their breath almost crystallized in the cold air as they came together. His mouth was hot when it opened over hers and still tasted of the brandy that had laced their cappuccino.
Her hands slipped inside his coat, which had remained open, and traveled up the length of his back, idly exploring the hard muscles that rippled under the soft flannel shirt.
“I’m going to give you just ten or fifteen minutes to stop doing that,” he said against her lips, not removing the pressure of his.
“No, I’m going to stop now,” she said as she pulled away from him. Their kisses were becoming embarrassingly impassioned and there were other tourists on the lookout platform.
“Damn!” He cursed under his breath.
She laughed. “What was the worst situation you’ve ever been in when you were working?” She resorted to casual conversation, for his hands were sensuously stroking the fur collar that reached up under her chin.
“Whew, that’s a tough question. Vietnam was hell. Felt like it. Smelled like it. Cambodia was hideous. I guess the worst situation, though, was El Salvador. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Everybody was shooting everybody else and asking whose side they were on later.”
“Reeves, why do you do it? Journalists get killed too, just like soldiers.” She quivered when she thought of him bloody and wounded.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a compulsion that’s hard to explain. I have to be in the big, thick middle of it, or I might miss that best shot, the picture of the decade, like the soldiers raising the flag on Iwo Jima.”
She didn’t really understand his drive, but she shook her head ponderingly. “I know you’ve won prestigious awards for your work, but what’s your favorite picture—the one you like the best?”
“I haven’t taken it yet,” he said.
She should have known by the way he had her pinned against the rail with his own body and the low, tense pitch of his voice that his mind was no longer on the subject they were discussing.
“My favorite picture is going to be one of you. Naked.”
“Reeves!” she grated, and looked around hastily, hoping that none of the other tourists spoke English.
“Let’s see, how should I do it?” he asked with a feigned objectivity. One eyelid was lowered as he considered her clinically. “In a field of flowers? No, that’s too sweet, too innocent.”
“Thanks a lot! I—”
“Maybe lying on your back on a black satin sheet with your arms flung over your head,” he mused aloud.
“Reeves, will you please—”
“No, that’s too… too blatant. Not like you. Not your style. Let’s see.” He squinted harder as he stared at her and she felt herself flush all over. The topic was far too bold, and she shouldn’t be standing here letting him talk about her that way. Still, the prospect of posing for him was wickedly attractive and exciting.
“I know,” he said slowly. “You’ll be on a wide bed. I’ll shoot it through gauze so you’ll look kind of ethereal. You’ll be lying on your side facing the camera. Should you be draped or totally naked?” he mused aloud. “Totally naked, I think. One arm will be stretched out in front of you and the other is folded over your chest. Only one breast—”
“Reeves,” she groaned, and buried her face against his shirt front.
“Your hair will be tousled, as if you’d just awakened when someone came in the room. It’s your lover. And your eyes are wide and silently asking him if he’s going to make love to you. But you know the answer.” His voice had roughened and his face had lowered until it was inches from her own. “The answer is ‘Yes!’ Yes.”
His parted lips met hers hungrily as he drew her to him. His tongue penetrated the barrier of her lips and teeth and pillaged the inside of her mouth. Each honeyed crevice was robbed. An unsatisfied moan rumbled deep in his chest as he pulled her tighter against him. She gasped, and even his befuddled senses could tell it wasn’t a desire-inspired reaction. He pulled back quickly. “What is it?” he asked.
“Your camera,” she cried piteously.
He looked down to see that his camera hung directly in front of her breasts. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize.”
“Neither did I for a while.” She stood up on tiptoes to kiss him quickly on the lips. “Reeves, we must go.”
He looked off in the distance at the spectacular view of the Alpine mountain range. “I know,” he said regretfully. “I—” He broke off suddenly and cocked his head to listen. “What the hell is that?”