Page 46 of Infinite

Tootles bends to look at me, appearing depressed. “Do you really think readers want Hale, their hero, in bed with a one-night stand when we’re using a title like Infinite?”

“Yeah. Do you?” Hale asks.

Again, I blush. This time with anger. I may have to kill them and find a remote place to bury the bodies. “What does forever have to do with short nails scraping down Hale’s bare back?” I ask.

“Passion,” Tootles says like it’s obvious.

“What he said,” Hale agrees.

“Becca,” Tootles says. “There’s a horrible theory that when people marry their initial passion dies.”

“Horrible theory,” Hale reiterates.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Tootles says.

“Nope, not even close,” Hale adds. “I say kill that awful theory.”

“Agreed,” Tootles says.

“Don’t you let that passion die,” Hale presses.

Tootles grins. “Not on my watch,” he assures him. “Now, about the nails. Let’s go a little shorter. We don’t want them long. Just long enough to tease her husband.”

“In bed,” Hale agrees. “Hey,” Hale interrupts when the stylist reaches for a straightener. “Don’t touch her hair. I like it how it is.”

The way he speaks, as well as how he eyes me, gives me tremendous pause. His irises shimmer, reflecting the heat streaming through my body.

“Excellent point. We don’t want the images to appear overly posed,” Tootles explains to the stylist, oblivious to the escalating tension spreading between me and Hale. “Same with the makeup. She shouldn’t look like she has any on.”

The make-up artist nods. “I’ll just touch her up a little so the sheets don’t wash her out.”

“Lovely,” Tootles confirms. “Hale and Becca will be the ultimate couple if it kills me.”

My shoulders slump. It may very well kill me.

“Props,” Tootles says, clapping to get everyone’s attention. “I need a ring.”

“A ring?” Hale and I say at once.

“Becca isn’t a one-night stand,” Tootles patiently reminds him. “There has to be a ring.” He shoves his hands on his hips. “Am I the only one committed to this campaign?”

“No,” Hale replies.

Nice. He can still talk. Good for him.

The dogs look expectantly up at Hale when he places his hands in the pockets of his robe. I used to own a lot of jewelry, mostly rings. But when I left my daddy and the life I’d experienced with him behind, the jewelry stayed with him. I’ve accumulated a few nice pieces throughout the years, mostly earrings and necklaces. I don’t wear anything on my hands. I don’t need any more memories of my time with my father or that stupid engagement ring I wore for show. That charade I had with Denver is over, regardless of what his daddy thinks, and so is a life that includes my father.

Fumbling of drawers ensues as Tootles looks through the accessories the team brought. “I need pretty. But not too sparkly,” he says, his idea getting the best of him. “We want the focus to be on the commitment, not the jewels.”

“I have something,” Hale offers, the way he says it drawing everyone’s attention.

Hale pays us no mind and disappears into the bedroom. I’m not certain what he’s up to. The only ring he ever wore was his high school football ring. But that’s not something I’ve seen in years and not something I imagine would fit with this shoot.

“Miss Shields,” the make-up artist says. “I need to finish up.”

“Yes, of course,” I say, momentarily forgetting where I am and what’s at stake.

The soft makeup brush passes along my skin. I stare at my reflection. The blush is mild and I’m not certain it will do much in front of the camera, but my lashes are dark and long, which will be more than enough.

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