Picture Perfect (8 page)

Devin positioned himself behind a camera, becoming all business. “Okay, put part of your hair over your shoulder and lean onto the side.”

I did as he said. “Do you want sexy or sweet or what?”

He blinked, seeming surprised by my question. “Um, sexy.”

Mussing my hair, I set my gaze to smoldering and dug my nails into the leather, a huntress waiting to pounce.

Devin’s brows rose, but he didn’t say anything. Moving behind his camera, he directed me to look at different points, changing my position slightly after a few shots. By the time the bulbs died down, my vision was spotted with neon green dots that flared to red and yellow every time I blinked.

The whole time, Devin never dropped his serious facade. He scrutinized the shot, rubbing his thumb along the stubble of his chin with pressed lips. Not once did I feel like he was checking me out or that I was a piece of ass. It was refreshing, liberating even.

Mind made up, he twirled his finger and said, “Lay on your back.”

“Keep it sexy?” I asked, readjusting my body.

He curtly nodded, piddling with something on his camera.

I kept my chin close to my chest, draping my arm across the back of the armrest,
with a strand of hair dangling flirtatiously from my fingers. I let one leg hang off the couch and pulled the other toward my hips.

Devin paused. “You done this before?”

I shrugged, which was hard to do since my neck was squished against the edge of the couch. “I was one of the models for The Fox Hunt
’
s brochure.”

“Huh.” Devin seemed unimpressed, which irked me a little. Then again, he was probably used to working with models, so my small stint as a cover model wouldn’t make as much of an impression.

He had me change positions one more time, sitting upright with my legs spread and my hands running through my hair before asking me to change clothes. I glanced at the clock as I grabbed my bag and made for the changing room. Forty minutes had already flown by. It seemed ten degrees cooler offstage.

Relieved to find a lock on the door, I quickly changed and retouched my makeup. When I returned to the floor wearing black l
eggings and a long, baggy petal-pink sweater, Devin surprised me by handing me a chilled bottle of water.

“Sorry,” he said, twisting the cap off his own and taking a swig. “I should have warned you it could get toasty under the lights.”

“S’kay,” I said, taking a breath after sucking down several gulps of water and relishing the goose bumps it brought. “I’m used to it. The stage gets hotter than this.” The Foxes jokingly called it the “Hellwalk: Every Girl’s Favorite Sauna.”

“You ready to wrap this up?” Devin asked after we’d downed our waters.

I nodded, eager to get home where I didn’t feel so anxious. Settling my nerves, I walked back onto the stage to discover it had been reset with a simple white box. At first it threw me off because I didn’t know what to do with it.

“Start by sitting on it, with your back to me,” Devin said, smiling slightly.

His smile summoned a heady wave of desire from deep in my gut. Composing myself, I turned around.

“Not that much. There, that’s right. Now turn and look at me over your shoulder.”

I did as he said, anticipating the flash of the cameras in the ensuing silence, but nothing happened.

“Something’s still not right.” Devin took his shoes off, then walked across the stage toward me. He examined me for a moment until at last tugging the neckline of my sweater down, baring my shoulder and the curve of my breast. His fingers lingered near my shoulder longer than they should, sending chills racing across my skin with a thrill of pleasure.

We looked at each other, neither breathing, caught in a moment neither of us was prepared for.

Looking away sharply, Devin cleared his throat. “That’s better,” he said, his voice rough with emotions I didn’t want to think about.

While he resumed his station behind his camera, I tried to rein in my galloping heart.

“Ready in three, two, one.”

A series of white flashes consumed me, doing little to draw my attention from the imprint he’d left on me. My mind looped between that and the memory of his naked body, so perfect and strong on such a seemingly artistic man.

Sultry was easy to pull off after that, though I was apparently stiffer according to Devin. He had to reposition me a few times, though he never touched me again, instead using gestures and showing me what he wanted me to do. By the time ten rolled around, I had worked my body up into a bundle of knots. Not bothering to change, I pulled on my boots and tugged on my jacket.

“You said you have Sundays off?” Devin asked as he killed the power to the cameras and lights. “Do you think you could meet me here, around noon? I thought we’d do some outdoor shots. It’s supposed to be nice.”

I nodded, struggling to find my voice and trying hard not to think about him nude.

His brows furrowed. “Is something the matter?”

You.

I choked out a fake laugh. “Just nervous, I guess.”

His expression relaxed, his eyes softening as the smile reached them. “You shouldn’t be. You’re perfect.”

I stared at him, struck speechless for the second time tonight.

Hot. Damn.

“Perfect for the camera, I mean,” he added, shifting his weight. A light blush crept to his face, making his rugged looks turn boyishly cute.

And making me want him all the more.

The vibration of my phone came like a bucket of ice-cold water to my face, jolting me back to reality.

“Er, um, my ride’s here. Have a good night, and thank you for the job,” I said, each word sounding thin and a little breathless.

“Have a good night,” he said quietly.

The sexy timbre of his voice sunk down into my skin, exciting and scaring the hell out of me all at once.

Rocketing out of the building, I couldn’t have been more relieved to find Tammara’s little Honda Civic waiting for me out front.

CHAPTER 9

Devin

I COULDN’T SLEEP THAT NIGHT.

Angel was everywhere. Her scent, like roses and cinnamon, clung to my pores, which only served to sustain the image of my muse in my mind. Before I went to sleep, I laid in bed for a solid thirty minutes, meditating and trying to push her out of my head, which I finally succeeded in doing. But she was there in my dreams; we both were, doing things to each other I’d only fantasized about with Darcy.

I woke up with a start at six a.m. to the obnoxious sound of my alarm clock. Breathing heavy, I rubbed the sweat from my face and leapt out of bed, supercharged from the erotic dream. After a cold shower, I was dressed and out the door within fifteen minutes.

I munched on a blueberry bagel while driving to school, alert with that edginess that comes when you’ve had five hours of sleep. The sky was beginning to lighten as I let myself into the art building, and after a quick stop by the student lounge for a cup of coffee, I let myself into the computer lab. Typing in my student user ID and password, I logged onto the server that housed our gallery and pulled up the images from last night’s shoot.

Even without any touch-ups, the woman was amazing on film. Her eyes, her lips, her body language… she knew how to court a camera.

I set to work doing some mild touch-up tweaks on the photos, throwin
g out ones that felt off to me. I added layers of effects and altered the color to warm sepia tones and cooler black and white. God, she looked gorgeous in black and white, a modern day Marilyn. A part of me that had felt dead for a long time began to stir, hungry for the creative passion Angel’s photos injected me with. There was no critical voice in my head, no one to slow me down. It was me, my shots, and a craving for beauty I had all but given up for good.

I was about halfway through the gallery when my cell phone buzzed.

“Hello?” I said, lifting it to my ear.

“Hey, where are you? I swung by your place but didn’t see your car there,”
said Erik. “We were supposed to carpool today, remember?” The Metallica CD he kept in his car rocked out in the background, meaning he must be on the road.

I grimaced, smacking my forehead. “Shit. That’s right. I forgot. Sorry to have you drive all the way over to my place, but I’m actually at school already.”

Silence. “You… you are? Really?”

“Really.” I kept glancing at my gallery, itching to get back to work.

“But it’s seven thirty,” Erik said, still sounding stunned.

“Yeah, I had some photos I wanted to go over this morning before presenting them to Stark later,” I said absently, clicking away.

“Oh. Um, cool. That’s great.” He sounded like he meant it, maybe even borderline relieved. “Can I see them?”

“Sure. I’m in the photo lab. Let me know when you get here.”

It wasn’t until we got off the phone I realized I hadn’t craved any alcohol this morning. Awestruck, I decided to figure out what that meant at another time, anxious to get as much work done as possible before my appointment with Stark at nine.

Erik knocked on the lab door fifteen minutes later. I had to get up to let him in since only art majors had access to this building’s lab.

“Haven’t seen you in here in a while,” he said with a big smile. He looked like a proud dad.

I was too distracted by all I’d accomplished this morning to pay him much attention. It was addicting, my work-a-holic-streak shooting energy through my caffeine-laced veins.

Erik came up behind me and whistled. “Holy. Hell. Is that The Fox Hunt Angel?”

My fist tightened, forcing me to click the mouse a little harder. “Yeah, that’s her.”

“This is the girl you said you hired as your private model? Wow.” He ran a hand over his face, eyes still glued to the computer screen. He didn’t seem able to take them off, which sent two conflicting emotions of pride and irritation warring inside me. “You lucky son of a bitch. When are you going to get her to do some nude shots?”

I nearly choked on my coffee, sending a few drops splattering onto my white polo. “Dammit.” I swatted them away while Erik hid a smirk.

“Can’t say it’s crossed my mind,” I lied, each word tight as I remembered my dream. The feel of her lotion-softened skin, the softness of her hair as I tangled my hands in it, the moan of ecstasy as I plunged into her -

Dammit. Not. Now.

Erik either brushed my behavior off or didn’t notice anything, though knowing him it was probably the first. “You gonna put these in the exhibition? You should.”

“I’ll probably enter some of them,” I said, jumping on the chance to switch back to a more professional topic. And by that, I meant a distraction from the feel of Angel’s writhing body beneath mine. “But solo shots alone won’t get me noticed. I need something more, like a couple.”

It was something I hated to admit, bringing on that soul-sucking blackness that haunted me as I thought of some overpriced asshole holding her hand or kissing her.

“Why don’t you do it?”

I blinked, finally looking at Erik. “Say what?”

“Come on, look at you.” He made hand gestures to acco
mpany his spiel. “You’re a good-looking guy with some modeling under his belt. Why don’t you just save yourself some money and just do the part yourself?”

I digested this. He had a point. Not that money was ever an issue thanks to my trust fund, but the thought had never crossed my mind. Modeling was more something I’d done because Mom had wanted me to, and I’d just assume to keep that part of my life buried under a heavy coating of apathy.

But if it meant getting an excuse to touch my muse…

“I’ll think about it,” I said, trying hard to be un
biased about this and weigh the situation from a professional’s point of view.

Erik glanced a
t his watch. “It’s almost eight. I’ve gotta get going to meet my study group at the library. I’ll be so fucking glad when this project’s over. See you at warm-ups. We’re going to rock the house at State tonight.”

I fist-pounded with him, putting on a confident mask until he left, then my face fell. Hockey was the last thing on my mind. The only urge I felt was to create, create, create, and it felt so. Damn. Good.

Less than a minute after Erik left and I’d settled in again to work, my cell phone buzzed once more. Annoyed, I checked the caller ID and paled. The warm coffee in my stomach turned cold, freezing over as if I were entering my own personal Ice Age. Clicking
ignore
, I turned the vibrate function off and resolved that come hell or high water, I was getting through the rest of these damn pictures. That and trying to pretend that I couldn’t see myself in the photos with her, wrapped up in each other’s arms, lost to an emotion I didn’t dare name for fear it would tear me apart.

CHAPTER 10

Angel

I WAS RUNNING ON fumes by the time I got a break the next night.