“When will the pictures be ready?” she asked, proud that she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.
“The proofs should be done within a week. I’ll call you when they’re finished.” He rested his hands on his Levi’s-clad hips, and Mallory pretended her peripheral vision wasn’t working. Pretended she didn’t notice how his splayed fingers seemed to point toward his groin. Pretended it wasn’t obvious how great he looked in those jeans, which, based on the fascinating fade patterns, were old favorites. Of course, she’d also seen him wearing a suit and tie and he’d looked mighty fine in that, too. She suppressed a feminine sigh of pure appreciation. He was just that sort of guy-looked great no matter what he wore. Actually, as she well knew, he looked great wearing nothing at all.
“Earth to Mallory…you okay?”
She blinked. “Uh, yeah. Fine.” She took two jerky steps back, toward the dressing room where she’d left her clothes. “I’d better get dressed.” With that she turned and walked swiftly across the room.
After emerging five minutes later, feeling much more in control now that she was fully clothed, her sexy lingerie folded in her shopping bag, she made her way to the front of the studio. Adam stood behind the counter, writing on a pad next to the phone. When her heels clicked on the ceramic-tile floor, he looked up. Their gazes met and Mallory’s footsteps nearly faltered.
Whoa. He packed a powerful wallop with a mere look. But then, he always had. Probably because of those gorgeous blue eyes that could change from teasing to intense in a heartbeat. The way he used to look at her, as if he could see into her soul…she gave herself a mental shake. It was better she not think about it. Adam was her past-and that’s where he needed to stay.
He stepped from behind the counter. They met in the middle of the floor and he walked with her to the door. “It was great seeing you again, Mallory.” He shot her a wicked, teasing smile and waggled his brows. “Especially seeing so much of you.”
Heat rushed into Mallory’s face. She nearly said that if she’d had the slightest inkling that he would have been taking her pictures, she would have chosen a different photography studio, but the words died in her throat. Not only did they sound unintentionally insulting, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that they might not be true.
“It was great seeing you, too, Adam.” She imitated his brow waggle. “Even if you saw more of me than I saw of you.”
Mischief, along with an unmistakable flash of interest, glittered in his eyes. “Perhaps on this particular occasion. Still, it’s a problem that could have been solved like that.” He snapped his fingers.
This time heat whooshed downward, warming Mallory all the way to her toes. “Not a good idea when one is taking pictures, I imagine,” she said, matching his teasing tone. “I think that’s called double exposure.”
He laughed. “I’m sorry we didn’t have much of a chance to catch up.”
“Me, too. I would have loved to hear all about this big career change you’ve made.”
“And I’d have loved to hear how your real-estate business is going and about this guy you had these pictures done for. He’s a lucky man.”
“Thank you.”
“Maybe when you pick up your proofs you’d like to grab a cup of coffee together?”
A perfectly casual invitation that absolutely should not have revved her heartbeat the way it did. He was an old friend, for goodness sake. Nothing more. They’d had coffee together dozens of times. Obviously spending an hour in the afternoon wearing sexy lingerie had had a strange effect on her libido. To refuse would make it seem as if she placed too much importance on an offhand invite. “That sounds nice, Adam.”
“Great. I’ll call you when the proofs are ready.” He smiled and opened the door for her.
“Talk to you soon,” she said, then stepped out onto the sidewalk. She actually welcomed the blast of inferno-like July heat that engulfed her because it gave her something on which to blame her discomfort. Walking quickly to her car, she slid behind the wheel. She’d driven three blocks before her breathing returned to normal-a fact she refused to examine too closely for fear of discovering the reason.
Her life was finally exactly the way she wanted it. Stable. Secure. No more moving around the country, no more living in apartments. Her career was in high gear, and she’d recently achieved a milestone goal and bought her first house. She had a steady boyfriend who had a steady job-yup, everything was perfect and…steady.
Okay, maybe things weren’t perfect with Greg, but she’d kissed enough frogs to know that he had prince potential. He provided the stability she’d always craved, and she was willing to work on the things that needed some polishing-like their sex life. Hey, not every guy could be like Adam Clayton in bed. Actually, she’d finally forced herself to admit that no guy would ever be like Adam Clayton in bed.
The last thing she wanted, or needed, was someone to rock the steady little boat she’d worked so hard for. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. Nine years ago, Adam had capsized her. She wasn’t about to give him the chance to do it again.
2
One week later, Saturday, 12:00 p.m.
WITH THE SUNSHINE SENDING shimmering shafts of gold through the front window of Picture This, Adam stared at the contact sheets from his photo session with Mallory Altman and blew out a long, slow breath.
She looked…incredible. Soft and feminine. Wicked, yet somehow innocent. Tempting and enticing and aroused and so damn sexy he found himself shifting uncomfortably to relieve the strangulation occurring behind the fly of his jeans.
He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Hey, show him a guy who wouldn’t be turned on by these pictures, and he’d show you a dead guy. He’d told her that her boyfriend was a lucky man, but what he should have said was her boyfriend was the luckiest damn guy in New York. And for a brief, magical time nine years ago, Adam had been that lucky guy.
Damn, seeing her again had felt like a punch in the heart. Stunned amazement followed by that mind-boggling rush of pleasure. The appointment book had read M. Allory-or at least that’s what he’d thought it said, as Nick’s handwriting was atrocious. One look at her, at her smile, at those brown eyes that had always reminded him of warm, melting chocolate, and the years had slipped away, inundating him with a flood of memories…memories that had haunted him all week and that threatened to take over now.
Forcibly pushing them aside, his gaze riveted on one particular photo of her. She was lying on her side on the bed, her dark hair spread across her shoulders in a disheveled fall of loose, shiny curls. With her head propped up on one hand, her other arm rested along the sinuous indent of her waist and the curve of her hip. One stocking-clad knee was bent, her moist lips slightly parted and her eyes stared directly into the camera. She looked like a succulent silk-clad morsel waiting to be plucked from an hors d’oeuvres platter. Actually, daring someone to pluck her from that platter.
A memory crystallized in his mind, of Mallory, lying in a similar position on top of his sleeping bag in the tent they’d pitched the weekend they’d gone camping upstate. Three glorious, lazy days spent almost exclusively in that tent, exploring each other, touching, talking, learning-each caress, each new bit of knowledge about her making him fall deeper in love. He could see her as if it were yesterday, her hair a dark, glossy tumble of curls. Wearing nothing but a playful, wicked grin. See anything you like? she’d asked in a smoky voice. He certainly had-and had delighted in showing her each and every thing.
He blinked away the lingering thought and again studied the photo. Her pose highlighted every gorgeous feminine curve and her eyes seemed to say I am everything you could ever want and I’ll make all your fantasies come true. Definitely words any man would love to hear. Words the man in her life had no doubt heard.