Page 43 of Infinite

“Just put on the damn pants, Hale,” Becca says, showing more teeth than either of the mutts. “We need to get this fabulous day started.”

Translation: shut the hell up before I kill you in front of Tootles and the dogs.

I chuckle into my shoulder, trying to keep from full-out cackling. This little hellcat hasn’t changed one bit. “Why the linen? I thought you preferred me in little to nothing at all?”

Tootles gasps, throwing up his arms and growing flustered. “You didn’t tell me we were doing nudies. I think I’m going to need more light.” He whips out his phone. “Stefan? Did you leave yet? . . . What? . . . Go, back . . . that’s right. We need more light!”

Becca doesn’t bother correcting him, even though he appears close to losing his mind. She’s too busy grinning at me with a smile capable of roasting testes on an icy tundra. “Hale, I have a vision.”

“Does this vision involve dogs?” I ask, bending down to scratch the giant moppy head that rubs against me. “You plan to have me and Trusty on the cover?”

“Twinkles,” Tootles interrupts. “Precious, I need you to connect. This dog needs to feel like he belongs.”

Damn, he’s stressed.

Becca ignores me, bending down to pick up the prissy dog running in circles at her feet. “Her name is Anarchy,” she says.

“I would expect no less,” I say.

She laughs softly, her gaze lingering on the wooden floors. The sweater she’s wearing shouldn’t be doing anything for her. It’s light brown, almost gold, unlike the bright, bold colors she normally wears. But this one has a low neckline. Not too low, just enough to allow the eye to travel over the swell of her breasts. The color may not do anything for her skin, but it does bring attention to her pretty face and is more than enough to make me take notice. And those tight jeans she’s in? Y’all, Becca has always looked good in jeans.

She pouts her lips, pressing the dog to her and speaking a sexy whisper that should be out-lawed in at least twenty states. “What’s wrong, Hale?” she asks, cuddling the dog closer so its white fur rubs against her long, bare neck. “Don’t you like dogs?”

“Sure.” Sorry. What was the question? Damn, it’s hot in here.

Tootles shakes out his hands. “Which bedroom gets the most light?”

I shrug. “They’re all pretty bright. Feel free to look around.”

And he does, taking off in a sprint up the stairs. “Yes, Stefan,” he says into the phone. “We need nudies.”

I’m barely aware of him rushing around upstairs and barely notice when he races down to check the other suite. Becca has my full attention, although she’s too busy pretending not to notice. She’s not wearing much makeup and the clothes she’s in make her look younger, softer, not like the PR princess ready to fling her tiara at anything that messes with her.

Tootles returns, appearing less anxious and more determined. “I think his suite works best. There’s more room to work. More light. We can get him naked and tuck the sheet around him at the waist. White works best and, bonus, there are already white sheets on the bed. I’m thinking, more romance, less color. Shades of gray or likely straight up black and bold whites.”

He hurries to me. But I’m not all that focused on him. I’m still stuck on Becca and “naked.” I don’t know what this photo shoot is all about, but so far, I’m all in.

Tootles presses his hands on his hips, eyeing me up and down. “I’m thinking your hands tucked behind your head like so.” He threads his fingers and demonstrates for me, thinking I’m not that bright and that the action may be too complex for me. Tootles doesn’t have a lot of faith in me. I almost laugh, waiting,just waiting,to prove him wrong.

“I want you to look away from the camera,” he instructs. “You’re awake. Your focus is on the window. Toward the light and the future.”

“Infinite,” Becca says. “That’s the title. Infinite possibilities. Infinite future.”

“Love it,” Tootles agrees.

Becca strokes the dog, sighing as if everything is falling exactly where it needs to. I don’t pay much attention to her actions, but I should. Every mild gesture and expression draws me to her beauty, reminding me how stunning she is no matter how much time has passed.

“I know we haven’t started yet, y’all,” she says. “But if we’re going in that direction, I think it should be the last shot for the Vogue spread.”

“Vogue?” I ask. “What happened to Forbes? Newsweek? Time?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” Becca tells me, using that same sinfully delicious purr. “I have all the major outlets covered.”

Tootles jumps in place, clapping. “Becca forbade me from telling you—”

“Tootles,” she warns.

“But I’m going to, anyway. This woman, right here, has used up every favor she has. You’re going to be everywhere, Hale. Every mag has an exclusive, releasing back to back. To give you an idea of all the awesomeness, you have Forbes in the winter issue followed by Vogue at the end of the year.” More jumping, more clapping. Tootles is beside himself. “It’s why I’m here. IknowVogue.”

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