Red (20 page)

She stared at him a moment, stunned silent. Then she shook her head. “Pardon me?”

“I need a photo assistant. I'm offering you the job, Red. But you have to really want it.” He reached across the table and caught her hand. Her heart leapt to her throat.

“You can't be afraid of me, Becky Lynn. Not if we're going to work together. Sometimes the hours will be long, sometimes we'll have to print all night. I can be a son of a bitch. I like getting my way. You're going to have to stand up for yourself. You're going to have to be able to tell me to go to hell.” He tightened his fingers over hers. “Do you think you can do that?”

She didn't know.
She sucked in a quick breath, the pulse hammering in her head. She lowered her gaze to their joined hands.
Could she do it?

“I'm not going to lie, you'd have a lot of responsibilities. As you did the other day, you would assist me during shoots. You'd also help me in the darkroom, scout locations, screen and book models, find props.

“It's a big job, and I can't pay you a lot. I'll match what Sallie's paying you. As I get more work, as my studio grows, you'll grow with me. There are perks, too. Like going on location, seeing the world, meeting interesting people.” He squeezed her hand. “What do you think?”

What did she think? she wondered, struggling for calm. She thought it sounded like the most exciting thing in the world. And the most frightening.

“Look, Becky Lynn, I don't know what happened in your past with some guy, but this offer is simple and straightforward. I need an assistant. You love the work, I can see that. You're good at it. We worked well together the other day.” He met her eyes. “Do you want the job, or not?”

Photography. Creating the beautiful images she had
always admired. She wanted to do it, more than she had ever wanted to do anything in her life.

Could she work with Jack?

He wouldn't hurt her, she realized suddenly. He wasn't like her father. He wasn't like Tommy or Ricky.

If she wanted to go forward, she had to leave the past behind. Going forward was why she had come to California.

She had to leave her past behind, she thought again. She would leave it behind, once and for all.

She drew a deep breath, excitement and trepidation creating an uneasy mixture inside her. She wanted to laugh, she wanted to hide. But most of all, she wanted to be Jack's photo assistant.

She looked him straight in the eye. “I can do it, Jack. I want the job.”

T
he next day, Becky Lynn gave her notice to Sallie. The other woman took her resignation quietly. She told her she had done a fine job and that there would always be a place for her at The Image Shop, or a good letter of recommendation if she ever needed one.

Becky Lynn gazed at the woman, a lump in her throat. Without Sallie Gallagher's kindness, she didn't know what would have happened to her or where she would be now. She wanted Sallie to be happy for her, she wanted her to be enthusiastic about her new opportunity, but she sensed that she wasn't. She sensed that Sallie didn't believe the job with Jack would last.

She wished she could change Sallie's mind, she wished she could say something to convince her.

She knew she couldn't.

Becky Lynn clasped her hands in front of her. “I'll stay as long as it takes for you to find someone to replace me. No matter how long.”

Sallie smiled. “I appreciate that, Becky Lynn, but if you'll just finish out the week, that will be satisfactory.” She shook her head, her expression bemused. “Although I already know the artists are going to be griping and complaining before the day's even over. You've spoiled us, Becky Lynn. We'll miss you.”

Sallie's words stayed with her for the rest of the day,
warming her. She had made a difference here; she had done a good job. She would make a difference in Jack's life, too.

She wanted to share her news, her excitement, with Marty, but the hairdresser had back-to-back appointments. Every time she saw the stylist, she wanted to blurt it out. Several times she almost did, but she didn't want to tell her friend in front of everyone else. She wanted Marty to know first.

When the end of the day finally came and she had the opportunity to tell Marty about her new job, it poured out of her in an excited rush. But instead of the happiness and approval she had expected, Marty frowned and shook her head.

“Don't do this, Becky Lynn. It's a mistake.”

Becky Lynn stared at her friend, surprised and hurt. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you're making a mistake.” Marty lit a cigarette, drew on it and blew out a long stream of smoke. “He's using you.”

“Why do you say that?” Becky Lynn frowned. “He's giving me a job, he's paying me.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “How does that constitute getting used?”

“You don't know him the way I do. You're not…wise to the ways of men like him.”

Becky Lynn drew in a ragged, hurt breath. “This is an opportunity to do something I love. This could turn into a career for me.” She took a step toward the other woman, her hand out. “We're friends. Please be happy for me.”

Marty ignored Becky Lynn's hand and turned away from her, crossing to an ashtray. “You'll fall in love with him, Becky Lynn. And he'll break your heart.” She glanced over her shoulder. “He's a real shit.”

Becky Lynn shook her head. “No, I won't. It's not like that. It's only about the work.”

Marty laughed. The sound was hard. “You don't understand. Everyone falls in love with him. They can't help it, it's his way.”

Not me. I could never trust that much. Never.

Becky Lynn took another step toward her friend, searching her expression. “Did you fall in love with him, Marty? Is that what this is all about?”

“Of course not.” Marty swung to face her, her cheeks bright with anger. “I'm not naive like you, Becky Lynn. I've been around.”

“I see.” Becky Lynn cleared her throat, realizing that Marty was asking her to choose. “Thanks for the warning, but I'm still taking the job.”

Marty crushed out her cigarette in the ashtray. “Well, good for you. Just don't come running to me when he breaks your heart.”

W
ithin two weeks, Jack knew, without a doubt, that hiring Becky Lynn had been the absolute right decision. Now, after having worked with her for eight months, he wondered how he had ever managed without her.

Her knowledge of photography had grown by leaps and bounds, her technical skills with it. She was like a sponge, soaking up all the information she could, always hungry for more. Every day she amazed him with some new fact she had learned, another skill she had mastered.

Jack smiled to himself and circled the empty studio, jiggling the shiny new keys in his hand. His business had grown more in the last few months than in the last two years. Tyler Creative had entrusted him with several more juicy accounts, those jobs had led to other jobs, until suddenly the word was out about Jack Gallagher—he was a comer. He had been able to quit his night job, and now supported himself, his studio and paid Becky Lynn's salary all with money earned from his photography.

Jack smiled and swept his gaze over the cavernous room.
His new studio.
Eighteen hundred square feet of photography and storage space, with several hundred more in the sleeping loft. He had more than tripled his space; he had been able to move out of Van Nuys and into Los Angeles.

Jack Gallagher was preparing to play with the big boys.

He crossed to the row of windows that faced downtown L.A., his footsteps echoing in the empty room. He wasn't sure what Becky Lynn had had to do with his growing success, but he couldn't help thinking she'd played a part in it. In the past months, she had done everything she could to help him succeed, working tirelessly and enthusiastically.

And she fed his ego, to a degree no one ever had before. She wholeheartedly believed in him and his talent, she believed without a doubt that he would make it to the top.

He squinted out at the day, the bright blue sky muddied by smog. At first, it had been awkward between them. She had jumped every time he had accidentally touched her; she had kept a safe distance between them whenever possible; she had avoided being alone with him.

But little by little, she had relaxed and opened up. He had discovered a woman who was warm, funny and loyal.

And passionate. About her beliefs, about her dreams. She hadn't shared those dreams with him, but he had sensed that they were there and that they ran deep.

What had happened to her? he wondered for what seemed like the millionth time since the first. What awful thing had caused her to run away from home? Who had hurt her so deeply that she feared men, feared being touched?

He turned away from the window. She wouldn't talk about it. The few times he had tried to get her to open up about her past, she had withdrawn from him. Each time, he had let the subject drop, but his desire to know had grown until he had become almost consumed by it.

He checked his watch, suddenly edgy. Where was she? Becky Lynn was so punctual he could set his watch by her.
Just as he could tell what she was thinking by the turn of her mouth, what she was feeling by the expression in her eyes.

He swore and swung back to the window. He had been noticing entirely too much about Becky Lynn lately. Things like the way she tipped her head when she laughed, the scent of her hair, the cadence of her voice first thing in the morning.

He scowled and shook his head. He had become almost obsessed with wondering what making love with her would be like. Not that he wanted to. It was simply curiosity, a matter of biology. She was a woman, and they had a relationship. In the past, those two things added together had always equaled sex.

Not this time. Sex with Becky Lynn would be a big mistake; making love with her was out of the question. She was his assistant and they had a terrific working relationship. He didn't want to damage that relationship, and having sex with her would. Because to Becky Lynn, sex would mean a lot more than it would to him. To her, it would be more than an act of biology or a way of satisfying curiosity.

Jack shook his head again and muttered an oath. He didn't want to have sex with Becky Lynn. He was only thinking about it so much because he didn't want to. Which didn't make a hell of a lot of sense, even to him.

“Jack!” Becky Lynn burst into the studio, out of breath, waving a copy of
Los Angeles
magazine. “You've got to see this!”

Jack smiled and started toward her, pleasure at seeing her moving through him. “Hey, kiddo, where's the fire?”

She skidded to a stop in front of him. “Right here.” She
handed him the magazine, struggling to even her breathing. “You're hot, Jack.”

He eyed her flushed cheeks. “How far did you run? You sound like you're about to have a heart attack.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “Six blocks, but never mind that. Look.” She snatched the magazine from him and flipped through the pages, ripping a couple in her haste. “Here.” She shoved the magazine back into his hands.

He lowered his eyes. The article's headline read: The West Coast's Twenty Up-And-Coming Photographers To Watch For.

His heart began to hammer, his palms to sweat. “What number?” he asked, not wanting to look. If he wasn't in the top ten, it didn't mean a hell of a lot. If he wasn't in the top ten, he might as well pack it up and call it a day.

“You're six, Jack.”

“Six?” he repeated, meeting her eyes.

She drew in another deep breath and nodded. “Uh-huh. You beat both Hampton Smith and Jay Patrick. They're eating your dust.”

It took a moment for her words to sink in. When they did, he dropped the magazine, gave a shout of satisfaction and swept her into his arms. He swung her around. “I did it! Hot damn, I made the top ten!”

She tipped her head back and laughed giddily. “I knew you would! I knew it.”

He set her on her feet, cupped her face in his palms and kissed her, full on the mouth and hard. When he let her go, she stumbled backward, her hand to her mouth, her expression stunned.

He laughed again. “Sorry, doll, but some things demand a kiss. And this is one of them. Number six!”

He sat on the floor and picked up the magazine, anxious now to read the entire article, to see who else had made the list and how they were ranked.

He looked up at Becky Lynn, she hadn't moved since he had kissed her. He grinned. “Remind me not to do that again, it's not good for productivity.”

She looked confused, and he patted the floor beside him. “Come on, let's check out the competition.”

“Go ahead,” she said, then cleared her throat. “I've already read the article.”

He gazed at her a moment, narrowing his eyes. “Did you know about this?”

She nodded, her cheeks bright with color. “They called the studio some time ago asking permission to run a couple of your prints.” She slipped her hands into her jeans' pockets. “They wouldn't tell me where on the list they'd placed you, only that you'd placed. I didn't tell you because of that and because I didn't want to ruin the surprise.”

“I can't believe you kept this from me.” He arched his eyebrows in mock outrage. “What else have you been keeping from me?”

Her flush deepened, and she looked away. “Nothing, of course. Read the article.”

While he read, she wandered around the studio. Jack was aware of her, of her uneasiness and of the fact that he had crossed a line between them when he'd kissed her.

She hadn't resisted his kiss, but he had caught her—and himself—totally off guard. He had liked the taste of her mouth, he realized. Had liked the feel of her full, soft lips, had liked the feel of her pencil-slim body pressed against his. It had been a nice fit.

He shook his head and dragged his attention back to the article. They had included two of his shots for Jon Noble, both shots that he had been particularly happy with. They called his work moody and intense. They said it was full of passion and a sense of rebellion.

Passion and rebellion, he thought. He liked that. His clients would like that. “This is good,” he said half to himself and half to Becky Lynn. “It'll be good for my career. Designers take note of this stuff. So do magazines. Everybody wants someone new and hot.”

She didn't reply, though he didn't expect her to. He flipped the page. Carlo's image stared back at him. Jack sucked in a quick, stunned breath, feeling as if he had been struck. The magazine had devoted two entire pages to Carlo Triani, number one from last year's list and a phenomenal success.

Pleasure at his own achievement dimmed, then soured. Last year, Carlo had been number one; this year, he was being lauded as a success story. Son of the great Giovanni, the article expounded, makes a name on his own, with extraordinary talent all his own.

Jack swore and sent the magazine sailing. It skidded over the wooden floor, crashing into the opposite wall, falling open to the spread on Carlo. Jack jumped to his feet and strode across the room, the urge to hit someone or something surging through him until he felt he might burst with it.

“Jack?” Becky Lynn made a sound of dismay and crossed to pick up the magazine. “What is it?” she asked, stooping for it. “What did the article…say…that—”

“Leave it.” He whirled to face her, anger and frustration clawing at him. “I don't want to see it.”

At his expression, she straightened and took a step backward, fear racing into her eyes. “I don't understand,” she said, her voice high and tight.

He flexed his fingers and breathed deeply through his nose, struggling to get a handle on his emotions. “Just go, Becky Lynn. Just leave me alone.”

She took another step backward as if preparing to do just that, then stopped. She shook her head and clasped her hands together. “No. I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong.”

He glared at her, and she glared back, undaunted. Mere months ago, she would have left, he realized. She would have turned on her heel and run. No more.

She scooped the magazine up and for long moments gazed at Carlo's image in confusion, then she looked at Jack. “Is this what upset you?”

He nodded, and Becky Lynn drew her eyebrows together. “But why? Who is this?”

Jack met her gaze. “He's my brother.”