Page 10 of Picture Perfect

I was not going to have that conversation in front of Greg. After the shoot, we could either hash it out on the sidewalk or I could invite Shane for coffee this time—for real coffee in a coffee shop—and we could discuss what had happened. Part of me wanted to know how he’d grappled with what had happened, because I’d felt terrible guilt and shame—in fact, it was lingering now and I wouldn’t have known that until this moment.

For now, though, I was going to be professional. I wasn’t going to air our dirty laundry in front of Greg. As I turned to face Shane for the first time in months—for the first time since I’d stormed out of his apartment—I forced myself to be cool and calm. Cold even. I had to shut off all emotion, or I’d never survive this shoot. Inside, I was a boiling cauldron, a raging volcano simmering, ready to erupt.

But I couldn’t let either of these men know it.

I took a deep breath as I pivoted my body, and I allowed my eyes to meet his. Ah, they were still the most beautiful shade of verdant green I’d ever seen in a man’s face. And his skin was darker now, no doubt thanks to the summer sun. His facial hair was gone, and I never would have guessed how much hotter it would make him look.

Dammit.

I was already feeling my cold outer shell thawing and I had to resolve to keep it that way. When I heard the pitch of the words that exited my mouth, I knew I was at least doing a good job acting icy. “Then I suppose thanks are in order.” I nodded, hoping the gesture alone would serve as my gratitude. More than ever, I realized I just had to get this over with and consider it another lesson learned. Next time Greg called me up for a shoot, I either had to turn him down or ask if I was modeling with someone else and, if so, what that person’s name was. For now, though, the ink was dry and I had to tough it out.

Acting was a huge part of modeling. I could do this.

Shane, with a matter-of-fact tone in his voice, said, “We look good together.” He sauntered over to the table and I backed away a bit. I’d have to be up close to him soon enough. His eyes were on the paper when he added, “I don’t know if Greg told you, but the modeling career has taken off for me…taken me in some incredible places.” He turned then, looking me directly in the eyes, and I realized then that I was still too close. I could feel a magnetic draw to him, but I kept my walls up. “Since there are lots of eyes on me right now, I thought I could get attention on you if we posed together again.”

Oh, thank you, Shane, for giving me that ammo. I needed a toehold to fight up and over this mountain, and he’d just provided it. “I don’t plan to model for the rest of my life. Once I finish grad school, I won’t be in front of a camera again.”

Shane, however, was unfazed. “But why, Ivy? You look so damn good.” He lowered his voice and, for a split second, I forgot Greg was there…even forgot I was angry with this man. “You’re beautiful. And someone like you the world loves to look at. It’d be a damn shame for you to give that up.”

But then I realized he was just a flatterer. He was getting under my skin—the last thing I needed today. I had to regain my composure—and fast. “I have a hell of lot more to offer the world with my brain. I’d much rather help students unlock their potential and view the world differently. Beauty fades, and I know I’m not going to look like this in thirty years. And thirty years from now, the photos I’m in won’t matter anymore—but the good I do in the classroom could persist for a lifetime…or more.” Oh. The dreamer in me had emerged—the young idealistic girl who’d wanted to teach from the moment it had entered her head as a kid. The vision had remained and, as an undergrad, I’d seen the potential, thanks to some inspirational professors instilling hope and passion inside me. That enthusiasm had long since faded, thanks to bills and deadlines and figuring out how to make it in life, but it was still in there. I’d had no idea. And it was that feeling that propelled me to do what was necessary to get through the day.

Shane shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

I refrained from frowning. Based on his reaction, he was playing calm and collected, too. Good. That would make things much easier. “So what first, Greg? What do you need?” He hadn’t told me any specific clothing to wear, so I’d just assumed it was an underwear shoot. I was wearing a lacy red Victoria’s Secret bra-and-panty set, something I’d owned for a while. I hadn’t bought anything new for Greg’s photo shoots in some time, but this was one I hadn’t worn for him, so it was good enough.

Probably a mistake, though, now that I knew who my partner would be.

“Let’s just say the photos of the two of you are now bestsellers. And the ones that only show the bottom half of your faces seem to sell better than any other photos I have. The black-and-white versions sell even better than the color ones.” Well, that explained his willingness to pay extra.

But I was more than happy to communicate my displeasure. “Then let’s get it over with.” Two hours with a hot but lying, cheating bastard and a money-grubbing photographer weren’t my idea of fun.

“All right. I want to start with a few shots up against the wall over there.” I glanced over to the corner he indicated and saw that he already had lights set up. As Shane and I moved over there, I felt grateful that I wasn’t being forced to think. Just do. That was good. Keep me in motion; keep barking orders, and I’ll do all right.

The shots he did there were pretty generic. My back pressed against the wall, Shane and I had to look like we were in various states of passion. Fortunately, there was no actual kissing and only a little bit of eye contact. There was a lot of his lips on my neck.

And I felt a twitch. Dammit.

But then, just as I felt my resolve start to waver, Greg announced that we were moving on and, at that point, it was shirts off. To make a statement, I walked over to the changing area and stepped behind the screen. Silly, yes, but feeling vulnerable once more, I wanted the few moments of privacy. That minute while I unbuttoned my blouse was the perfect opportunity for my brain to relive the shame and humility I’d felt when Shane had revealed his secret. Not good. I needed to be emotionless for this, not wracked with guilt and negativity.

I had to shut that part of myself off. If that shit showed on my face, this shoot would be a disaster. So the last few seconds before I entered the room partially exposed I used to psyche myself up, much like I imagined an MMA fighter would do before what he knew would be a particularly brutal fight. A couple of deep breaths, finding my resolve, putting on my game face, and I was good to go.

The two hours went quickly but not with ease. It began again with a lot of close shots against a white background where our bodies touched, often not even leaving an inch between us. Whether we were facing each other or Shane was behind me holding me possessively (with various poses of his hand on my jaw, my neck, my belly, my breast, and the waistband of my jeans), we were close. The worst part near the end of that first stretch was when Shane was pressed up behind me, his hand on my jaw, his chin pressing against my face. His other hand was wrapped around my waist and damn it all to hell if that didn’t make me start feeling a little warm.

His hard body once more felt like it was made for me.

What did it was feeling his breath against my skin. Its warmth made my muscles tighten. Not good. Not good at all.

Just as I was sensing my inner strength weaken, Greg had us switch positions again. He had us move to the area of the room where he had the queen-size bed. At first, the poses weren’t bad. He had me take off my jeans (and I considered making a statement and running over to the screen again, instead opting to get it over with), and then he had Shane lie on the bed. He was propped up on a couple of pillows and I straddled him, per Greg’s request. I was still doing okay keeping myself in check, once more in control. But as we shifted and adjusted, mostly with Shane’s hand in various places on my back, I felt myself grow heated again.

What the hell was it about this man that fueled my fire?

My emotions swirling once more, Greg then had me lie on my back. He had Shane flip over and cozy up next to me, his arm around my waist, and we were to act like we were kissing. Greg adjusted the tripod and even got on a ladder, looking for the right angle and then, like a Hollywood director, he barked, “Action!” If I hadn’t been struggling so hard, I might have laughed.

But this was no laughing matter.

And, again, the problem with Shane was he wasn’t about to fake his kissing. Instead, it was like on a first date—a small couple of feathery kisses followed by a tentative touch of the tongue to my lips. There was no way I couldn’t respond. The kisses never grew deep but they were real, and my body—my brain, even—couldn’t help but react.

Yes, I kissed him back.

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