Con Man: Complete Series Box Set: A Bad Boy Romance (40 page)

“You know that’s really hard for me,” I started to argue despite the weakness of my point, then stopped. My eyes narrowed. “Wait, what’s the worst case scenario?”

“That he hits on you and you like it.” She gave me a devious grin and winked. “He’s a notorious womanizer, Gabs. But hey, if you’re curious… what’s the harm?”

“Curious?” I stared at her. “Are you…saying I…?”

She grinned for a moment and then went back to the ritual of her weekly manicure, ignoring the fact that I was still gaping at her.

Curious…
that made me think about things I didn’t need to think about.

That made me think about Flynn.

Made me think about
me
and
Flynn.

The two of us. Together. Naked. Those long-fingered, elegant hands of his running over me. My mouth went dry just picturing it.

“No.” I lied through my teeth. “I’m not curious. Not about Flynn McCreary.”

* * *

K
endra’s words
echoed in my head Monday morning as I walked into the address printed on Flynn’s business card. The warehouse space was divided into a chic boutique of pale fashionable clothes and an art gallery featuring sketches of designer handbags.

The bored receptionist pointed up the stairs when I told her who I was here to see. The photography studio stretched out the entire second floor with windows the entire length of the street view.

“Mr. McCreary?”

“I detect a little accent, Tennessee. Does that mean you’re nervous?”

I gave him the finger and he laughed. “I’ve already got that pose. Come on. I’ve got other things in mind.”

Fighting the urge to fidget, I lowered my hand and stood there, feeling lost in the vast space. He crossed over to me and cupped the offending hand in both of his, using it to draw me towards the far corner where the windows were covered, creating a darkened—or darker—area.

There, a white pedestal waited in front of what looked like a giant white screen. A backdrop, I remembered. Dozens of lights aimed at the spot from what I guessed were strategic places.

“Please, let me make you more comfortable.”

“I’d be more comfortable knowing what the hell I’m doing here,” I said bluntly.

Without answering my question, he gently pulled both my hands onto the pedestal and began massaging them. The deep rub of his thumbs in the center of my palms released a pressure I hadn’t realized was trapped there. The heat of the friction and the slow, deliberate circles soon uncoiled something else. Heat flared in my stomach, quickly traveling south until it pooled between my legs.

I swallowed. Tensing, I tried to pull away as heat rushed to my face.

He didn’t release my hands, keeping a light hold on them. “No, no. You can relax. You have to be relaxed for this job.”

“What job?” I asked, as much to keep my attention from how good his hands felt around mine as anything else.

He answered without looking at me even as he released my hands. “A new jewelry line called Delicate. I can’t have you cupping an eggshell if you’re so tense.”

He went over to the long table and picked up an egg, two egg shells, and a diamond tennis bracelet. Flynn then walked up behind me and reached around either side of me. He clasped the dazzling bracelet around my left wrist and carefully placed two broken halves of an eggshell in my fingertips. It seemed a bit strange, but he was the artist.

“Alright, put your other hand flat here. It’ll help you stay steady and it’ll add to the background. Your skin is perfect, almost translucent.”

I tried to ignore the tickle of his breath on my neck as he leaned in closer and posed my right hand. He then smoothed the large diamonds along my wrist and the slight caress sent shivers up my arm. I steeled myself not to move and prayed goosebumps wouldn’t give me away.

Don’t screw this job up too, Gabs
.
Just because you haven’t gotten any in a while...

He stepped back and picked up his camera. A few rapid-fire shots and he put it down. This time he ran his fingers down my arm in order to gently rearrange the angle of my wrist. His dark brown hair brushed my cheek and I decided to look out the window and pretend I was writing a scene, something that had nothing to do with attractive men and how good they smelled.

“You’ve got a soft touch, Ms. Baine. I think I may be jealous of an eggshell.”

“The bracelet is part of my payment, right?” I asked. I’d just blurted it out, not really expecting an answer. I was finding it increasingly difficult to think around him.

He chuckled and added finely shredded pale blue tissue paper to one of the empty eggshell halves. He leaned over to delicately place a pair of diamond earrings on top of the paper and his fashionably unbuttoned shirt fell open. I couldn’t help seeing his chiseled chest and that made me wonder what a fashion photographer did to work out. My mind betrayed me and immediately imagined him doing push-ups over me. Dammit. I really needed to get laid.

“Relax a little. You’re doing beautifully, Gabriella.”

I liked the way my name sounded in that deep voice of his.

A few more rapid-fire shots and he removed all the props from my hands.

“Tedious work but, trust me, I’ll make your hands look good.”

“Good, otherwise I won’t be able to show my face around town,” I quipped as I began to stretch my fingers. My breath caught when Flynn took my hand between his and began to help. I kept talking to prevent me from thinking about the way his fingers were manipulating mine. “Does this mean I can’t do high-fives anymore? I mean, now that you’re going to make me a famous hand model?”

Flynn caught my eyes, his warm hands still caressing mine. “How about I get us something to drink?”

I shrugged, trying to be noncommittal, and he smiled at me as he walked away. I ignored the stab of disappointment and began to pace around, desperate to cool down the molten feeling in my muscles before he came back. He moved with a lean, powerful grace that had me itching to touch him.

He’s a notorious womanizer…

Kendra’s voice echoed in my ear and I had to swallow back a groan.

All I could think about was his hard body leaning into mine at the club the other night. Today, his dark brown hair was slicked back and his face was smooth. He smelled faintly of that amazing aftershave and it made the urge to rub my cheek along his jaw line even harder to resist.

I shook my head and distracted myself with a long white table of portfolio folders. Reaching for the nearest one, I flipped it open.

“Oh, you might not want to do that,” Flynn said from behind me.

“Do what?” I asked as I flipped open the first portfolio.

He smirked as he gestured to the table. “That.”

Confused, I looked down. As my brain registered what my eyes were seeing, my mouth fell open.

M
y cheeks turned red once
I realized his warning had been more of a tease than anything else.

The portfolio was filled with black and white photographs of nude models. I flipped through a few, trying to cool my embarrassment. I wasn’t some prude or naïve little girl to be freaked out over a couple of nude photographs, although…wow. This wasn’t some nude portrait hanging in an art gallery. These were
hot
.

Flynn edged closer, so close I could feel his body heat.

“You like what you see?” Flynn’s tone was half-mocking, half-seducing. “Want to take a few in the dark room for further study?”

“Don’t be a child,” I snapped.

“Oooh, there’s that Southern drawl,” he said.

He was teasing me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the photographs. They were not gratuitous, models posed for exploitation or just to please the lustful eye. They were beautiful studies of the female form, beautiful and sensual. One photograph conveyed such a sense of vulnerability I ached for her. Another such ferociousness that I wished it could be imprinted in my mind to banish any lingering insecurities. The angle said as much about the photographer as the nude pose revealed about the model. Despite myself, I was fascinated.

“Here, let me help.” He dabbed my chin with a paper napkin. “You got a little drool there.”

I slapped his hand away, but without any real malice. My cheeks were burning, but not from the pictures anymore. “You must be the photographer’s twelve year-old son.”

“Ouch.” Flynn smiled as he put his hand over his heart.

I collected myself, determined to show him that I could be more mature about this than he was. “So you take nude photos on the side. Just for fun or are you getting ready for a gallery show?”

He snorted in derision as he tugged the portfolio from me and flipped it open, bending over to study it closely. I could only see his face in profile, but it was clear that he was looking at his work with a far more critical eye than I thought they deserved. Even the more erotic ones that left me blushing were incredibly lovely.

“Why do you take them?” I asked again.

He looked over at me, a grin tugging up the corner of his lips. “Why the hell not?”

He flipped the portfolio closed and shrugged before cutting to go around me.

There was an abruptness to his movements that made me realize that somehow, I’d put a wall between us. Or he had. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“How do you find models to pose nude?” I asked suddenly. Then I grimaced, realizing how naïve that sounded.

He gave a short mirthless laugh, but his expression changed when he realized I was serious. He jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “It pays better.”

I knew I’d hate myself for asking, but now I was curious. “How much is better?”

“How much is on the books for your hand modeling gig today, three hundred?” He cocked up a brow as he waited for me to nod. Then he angled his head toward the portfolio full of nudes. “Model for a nude? It can bring in three thousand or more.”

Shit
. “That’s…” I cleared my throat. “That’s a lot of money.”

I turned to look out the windows so he couldn’t read on my face what was going on in my head. With Kendra not getting paid for a couple weeks and my current job not paying me much of anything, it was hard not to think about it. I told myself that I was already doing the hand model gig because I needed the cash, but the idea of ten times that amount kept running through my head.

Apparently, he didn’t need to see my face to know what I was thinking.

“Tempting, huh?” The sly arrogance came back into his voice. “Or maybe now that you have the taste for modeling, you can’t get enough?”

He came around, putting himself between me and the window, grinning at me. The attitude was confusing. Insulting. How could the sensitivity I’d seen in those images come from somebody so deliberately crass, someone almost cruel?

It had to be an act, but I couldn’t see why. He was talented and didn’t need to act like an ass. The biggest problem, however, was his words sounded like a challenge and I had never been able to turn down a dare. I wanted to strip off all my clothes and make him blush.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.

“Go away.” I turned back to stare out the window. He chuckled and I could hear him moving around behind me.

“You didn’t answer. You know, it can be a bit of a rush—”

Spinning on my heel, I glared at him.

Flash
—

Lights went off. He snapped another one as I folded my arms over my chest and leveled a glare on him.

He let out a low whistle. “Damn. You could burn someone with those nutmeg brown eyes, babe.” He straightened and gave me a once over. “I’ll pay you the three thousand if you show me what you’ve got.”

Three thousand…

For a second, all I could do was stare at him.

Then, as the shock faded and the urge to tell him to kiss my ass faded, reason kicked in. Three thousand. That would keep us level until Kendra started seeing payments from her modeling contract. It would tide us over between my meager checks.

I thought of the beautiful images I’d seen in the portfolio and swallowed. My face heated and my heart started to pound.

It wasn’t like he was asking me to sleep with him.

They are just pictures.

“Well?” His mouth curled up in a smile. Then he shrugged. “Didn’t think so.”

Jerk
.

I curled my lip at him and leaned against the nearby table, steadying myself as I took off my boot. If he thought I was too shy and backward to do this, then I’d show him a thing or two.

Once I had my boot in hand, I threw it at him.

He dodged the boot, flashed me a blue-eyed dare and took more pictures. I could tell by the look on his face that he was enjoying himself. I didn’t know if I wanted him to or not. I tossed the other boot over my shoulder, refusing to cringe as I heard it clatter across the table. I never claimed to have good aim.

He smirked from behind the lens. “That all you got, Tennessee?”

“Maybe that’s all you deserve,” I retorted. “Maybe I should have put one of those boots where the sun don’t shine.” I let my drawl come out on the last bit.

“What about all these buttons?” he asked. “Bet you could be cruel with those.”

I stilled as he came towards me, unsure of what to expect. My entire body tensed as he fingered each of the small pearl buttons on my blouse before pushing back my hair and then standing back to snap another picture. I felt my face burning and couldn’t deny that a not-so-small part of it was arousal.

He didn’t think I could pull it off. How many women could do a slow strip tease in broad daylight, much less a sunlight-filled studio? I was willing to bet his skinny models simpered and giggled, more worried about flirting with him than anything else. Hell with that.

I walked towards him, seeing the scene unfold as though I were writing it. As I moved, I undid two buttons at the bottom of my shirt. He crouched down, angling the lens up and I stopped, slowly and deliberately popping the button on my jeans, exposing the pale skin of my stomach.

“So good,” he muttered. “I love close-ups.”

He reached out and photographed his own hand sliding up my inner thigh. It suddenly became hard to breathe as his touch burned through my jeans. He set the camera aside and, without coming out of his crouch, gripped my waistband and gave it a bit of a tug.

“Any chance you’ll take these off?”

I realized the up-close of me trying to wriggle free of my skinny jeans wasn’t going to do anything for his pictures or my ego so I backed away and regrouped.

I wasn’t rail thin like a traditional model. I had curves, hips, boobs…I could play to my strengths, but those strengths didn’t involve wiggling and shimmying out of my jeans right in front of that camera.

I turned back and pulled open the top buttons of my shirt. With the middle two buttons still holding, I slipped one arm out of my shirt and then the other, clutching the remaining fabric to my almost fully exposed chest. The clutching only amplified my cleavage and I watched as his gaze zoomed in, right on target.

“Yes, great.” Flynn took a half dozen rapid-fire shots, then lowered the camera, silent for a moment as if he was trying to figure something out. “Lay down,” he finally said. When I didn’t immediately move, he added, “Trust me.”

My heart was racing, but I knew it would be foolish to stop at this point. After all, he was a professional photographer and I had seen his work. None of those women had looked coerced or bothered by what they were doing. And, if I was going to be completely honest with myself, I knew if I backed down now, he’d have won. I was competitive enough to hate that idea.

I lifted my chin and walked over to the pile of cushions and blankets he’d motioned to. They were the same ones that the other models had been on, but as I stretched out, I began to feel self-conscious.

That feeling only grew as he joined me and without a word, stood on the cushions, one foot on either side of my knees. Picture after picture, he changed the angle of the camera, bending down low, then straightening.

After a couple minutes, he put the camera down and dropped to his knees over me. His face was flushed. His eyes burned. He probably just got really into his work.

I tried to pretend it was because of me, though.

Why should I be the only one affected?

I caught my breath as he reached down and unzipped my jeans, then took hold of the waistband. His gaze lingered on my face a moment, giving me the chance to protest.

When I didn’t, he drew the jeans down, leaving me in a pair of simple lace panties.

Why hadn’t I put on something sexier?

I looked up to find his eyes lingering on the dip of my waist, the flare of my hip, roaming over me with a heat that left me feeling lightheaded. As he sat back on his heels, I levered myself up and let my shirt fall completely away.

Sitting there in a bra that matched my panties, I stared at him. My pulse raced so hard, it was a wonder he didn’t hear it.

He snapped a picture, then reached up and pushed my hair back over my shoulders, snapped several more, pausing here and there to adjust the angle of my chin or to mutter a command. “Look toward the wall…now at me. Smile…no, not like that. Think about the first time you were kissed…that bad, huh? Okay, think about
me
kissing you…perfect…”

He lowered the camera while I was still breathing heavy from the thought of kissing him and he came closer, reached up and hooked his finger under my bra strap. After a moment, he slowly pulled it down.

My nipples were already tight, but at the feel of his skin against mine, I gasped. With the strap of my bra hanging down my shoulder, he eased back and lifted the camera.

“Take the bra off now. Slowly…”

Goosebumps broke out across my skin as I did it.

I wasn’t even thinking now.

Thought had left the building so long ago, it was insane.

I slid the straps over my shoulders, keeping one arm over my breasts as I tossed the bra off to the side.

“Good…perfect…look down…now, up at me.”

I did.

He lifted his eyes from behind his camera and stared.

Waited.

Without him saying a word, I knew what he wanted. He began snapping pictures as I slowly lowered my arm, revealing myself to him and his camera. I thought I saw his fingers tighten on the camera, but he didn’t say anything. My nipples drew tighter still, throbbing and aching and I couldn’t understand it, but I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.

“Will you lay back?” he asked.

There wasn’t even a hint of professionalism in his tone now—his voice was ragged, rough and for some reason, that made it easier to lie back, bracing my weight on my elbows.

“Bring up your knee.”

I did and when he next had me roll onto my side, I did that as well, following him with my eyes as he came around to crouch next to the bed. “Pull your hair forward. Have it curling around your nipples. I want the contrast of auburn against your skin.”

My breath came out in a low, shaky sound as I did just that and I had to bite my inner cheek to keep from gasping as I smoothed my hair down.

“No. Here…”

He came closer.

I froze as he reached out.

His eyes held mine for the longest moment and then he started to stroke, smoothing my hair so my left nipple played peekaboo. He remained there a minute, adjusting the sheets, then me, his fingers lingering on my skin.

He snapped two or three shots and then lowered the camera. “Panties.”

Slowly, I rolled to my back and slid them off, trying not to think of the ways I was exposing myself. I tossed them aside and put my legs back down.

The camera stopped and lowered. He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, his eyes roving over my body. Heat burned there, the kind of heat that somehow managed to banish any insecurities I should have had.

A thrill began to surge inside me and I wanted to stretch out before him, exhilarate in the headiness this was giving me. He moved closer. Firm hands took mine, guiding me. I stayed calm, or at least appeared calm as he posed me, arranging me how he wanted.

I twisted this way and that at his command as the camera fired away. I lost all sense of time and any inhibitions I’d had melted away under his careful instruction.

The sunlight moved across the warm studio and I lost all track of time. He took a few last photographs and took a step back as he set down his camera.

His eyes were sparkling as he spoke, “Now how about some fun?”