Say It Sexy (16 page)

"I can't stop thinking about what happened in the sauna," he confessed.

Oh, God. Here it comes.
I fidgeted, searching for a way to escape.

"Gwen, look at me," he pleaded.

I did, albeit reluctantly. His brown hair hung in attractively disheveled waves. His lips dared a gentle smile at me.

"I'd like to do that more often. Is there any possibility you'd give me a chance to?"

Stunned, I blinked rapidly. "I—"

He frowned as I grappled with how to respond. “Why do you always get that look on your face? When I try to talk to you, you shy away. When I touch you, you practically have a heart attack. When I kiss you, you panic.”

“I’m easily flustered,” I said, trying to scrounge up a believable excuse. “I need to remain professional, Garrick. Our interactions, especially on set, need to remain professional. We’re vulnerable in the public sphere.”

The light in his face dimmed as though someone has snuffled out candle somewhere. “Can’t bear to be seen with me that much, huh?”

“That’s not what I meant,” I contradicted. “And it doesn’t matter. Why would you want to be seen with me anyway? I’m not a one-and-done type of girl. I don’t want to be just a picture on Google. Not for you, or for anyone. I thought I made that clear at the restaurant that night.”

“I know,” he assured me, sweeping my hands up to sandwich them between his. “I don’t want you to be that for me either.”

I drew in a breath to brace myself, needing the extra support to rally my confidence. “We’re clear, then.” He didn’t want me. “Whatever started, whatever happened… It’s over.” I gave a curt nod.

“Not for me.”

“What?”

“Gwen, we need you on set!” Alice called again, poking her head out from behind the trailer.

“I’ll be right there!” I called back to her with a sunny smile until she ducked out of sight again. For the second time, I tried to wriggle out of the cage he had created around me with his tempting body. “I can’t do this.”

“Why not?” he wanted to know, persistence latched onto every syllable.

No booze. No boys. No barbs in the tabloids.
“You wouldn’t understand,” I whispered.

“No, I won’t,” he agreed. I felt his hand on my chin and I found myself staring into his eyes, locked like swords in combat, the next moment. “Not unless you talk to me.”

“Gwen!” Alice yelled. “Lyle needs you now!”

I jerked my chin away. “Yes, I’m coming!” Alice’s voice had startled Garrick into a fully upright stance, allowing me enough space to make my getaway. He caught my hand and spun me around.

“Please let go,” I muttered, my gaze shifting left and right, anywhere but up into his face.

“At the shoot? Will you talk to me at the shoot?”

I stared back at him, my throat going dry. I had forgotten about the photo shoot scheduled for that afternoon. Lyle had told us that we’d stop filming early and let out around three to head into downtown. “Well,” I stammered. I couldn’t bear to tell Garrick no, to squash the hope in his face. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

He relinquished my hand and I hurried away to become someone else, unable to cope with standing in my own skin.

* * *

We arrived at the photography studio, a swanky place off Central, just after 3:30. Attendants bustled around the floor, preparing equipment and setting up makeup stations. The background, white and red draperies, spilled down to the floor. A step stool and several big blocks sat in the center. I had purposefully ridden with Erica in her rental to delay the inevitable conversation with Garrick still to come. She said nothing on the way, leaving me to my thoughts, and I had to wonder if she had overheard our conversation because I caught her flashing me a few looks of concern, and a few more of kindhearted encouragement.

Garrick’s words outside my trailer swarmed through my mind.

He wanted to kiss me again. He didn’t want me to be one of his Google girls. It thrilled me. It frightened me.

How was I going to keep my resolve to stay away from him after all that?

I tried to start by banishing him from my thoughts and focusing on the task ahead.

I had done what seemed to be a million photo-shoots for
Diamond Eyes
. Soaps were pretty big on those. I knew they’d block us for framing before slathering us in makeup and wardrobe. Alice and Lyle stood in the back, observing and chatting with each other quietly.

Our photographer, a woman in horn rimmed glasses and painter pants, roped Shane, Garrick, Tyler and me together. We took a few dozen group photos first, some with Erica and some without her. Because I got to step back into Lacey’s persona, I found it enjoyable, even funny at times. The photographer had us do cute things like hold hands, or jump simultaneously, or hold our hands up in fists as though we were rallying for a throw down or a bar brawl. In some, I grinned. In others, I glared. Occasionally I pouted, bit my lip, or smirked. Garrick had perfected the smolder before the first flash exploded.

Shane and Garrick were naturals, Tyler less so. He seemed to have only one or two expressions that he displayed, bored and more bored, in spite of his range on set. And no matter how hard the poor photographer tried to coax another look out of him, Tyler remained unnecessarily obstinate. Probably, I imagined, because this separated him from his phone for an unnecessary hour and a half. Garrick had to tickle and poke him to trigger a goofy grin.

“Alright,” the photographer announced with an overly animated smile, adjusting the new lens she had just fitted into place on her camera. “Let’s go ahead and do some pictures with just Gwen and Garrick now to capture the intimacy between Payton and Lacey. The magazine spread is pretty broad, and I think they’ll want a pairing picture for the cover.”

My heart plunged into the pit of my stomach where it beat erratically, nauseating and exciting in the same instant. I felt the color drain from my cheeks and my eyes grow several sizes too big. I should have anticipated this.

Shane and Tyler shuffled off, muttering to each other and snickering, working the tension out of their wrists and shoulders. They high-fived with Erica, who had her nose in a copy of
Straightlaced
, wielding a highlighter. I could tell by the relief in their voices that they were glad to be through with their part, whereas my true struggle was only about to begin.

The attendant had me change into a different outfit—a daring, sexy dress that she claimed would hint at Lacey’s rarely explored sexuality, the vixen that lay beneath her sophisticated façade, just waiting to be released. I didn’t think it fit me very well, as evidenced by the way my breasts bulged above the brim, but the attendant insisted that was how the gown was made. She finger-combed and curled my hair and applied a fresh shade of midnight red lipstick.

My heart started racing when Garrick stepped back into the room in khaki slacks and a snug button up that accentuated his shoulders. He gawked right back at me. Self-consciously, I crossed my arms.

“Let’s get you two together now. If you could meet in the center of our step up and stand back to back, that would be wonderful.”

I gathered the fabric of my dress up off the floor and crossed to the display. Garrick joined me.

“Chin up a bit, Gwen!” Erica called. “Lacey is Payton’s rival, not his lesser shadow.”

“I’ll give you a moment,” the photographer offered with a serene smile. And I knew that meant my cheeks shone cherry red.

Clearing my throat, I smoothed my hands down my hips, eyes glued to the floor.
Stop shaking,
I commanded myself. Feeling the heat of him on my predominantly bare back, I suppressed a shiver and racked my memory for a time when shooting for
Diamond Eyes
had me this nervous. Unable to resurrect such a scene, even in spite of the number of gorgeous actors and supporting cast contracted alongside me for the series, I groaned. In vain, I tried to put myself in the frame of mind I used back then.

They’re just pictures,
I told myself. Depictions of a relationship portrayed on television, meant to attract viewers and grow the fan base
.
Depictions I desperately hoped my father would never see. With any luck, any unnecessary cleavage would be doctored…

As the photographer instructed Garrick to turn toward me and wrap me up in his arms from behind, I secretly chastised myself for failing to talk to him earlier and get things settled between us. This would have gone much smoother had we been on the same page, and he realized where I was coming from, why I couldn’t give myself to him.

“Gwen, why don’t you face Garrick now,” the photographer suggested. “And relax, both of you! My word. At least pretend to like each other. You look like you’re dreading every second of this. Would either of you like something to loosen up?” She chuckled. “We keep a bottle of Grey Goose for just such a purpose.”

“No,” Garrick and I answered simultaneously and too quickly. Apparently both of us considered adding alcohol to the mix a highly dangerous idea.

“Fair enough.” Extending her open hand, the photographer flapped her fingers. “Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll be taking warm up shots from various angles to find the best places to shoot from. Ignore me and focus on each other.”

“Do they have to be in the room?” Garrick murmured, indicating Shane and Tyler. Tyler sat preoccupied, glancing over at Lyle and Alice every so often, while Shane stood beside him, making kissy faces at us.

“Very mature,” I told him. Erica stared, trying to suppress grins of her own. I puffed my cheeks at her.

“Focus on each other,” the photographer reminded.

The photographer moved around the edge of the drapery, her lens flashing every few steps. Garrick’s arms encircled my waist and he put his chin on my shoulder. I lifted my arms to slide my hands over his forearms, feeling even muscular indention.

Hesitantly, I glanced up to meet his eyes and, to my surprise, found him gazing down at me. He didn't look disturbed or reluctant like I pictured he might, like the photographer had alluded to. It occurred to me then that of the two of us, I was most likely making it awkward and the photographer had addressed us as a unit to avoid individual embarrassment and take the pressure off me.

Garrick's hands slid down my waist, coming to rest on my hips. The calm, oaky scent of his cologne filled my nose, encasing me in a cloud of serenity. I felt safety descend. A tiny scar, one that I had never noticed, marred his chin. Faint creases, the itch before a wrinkle, had started to appear at the corners of his eyes. Either he smiled a lot, or he carried something heavy on his otherwise blithe heart—possibly something to do with past hurts and his vocal thoughts about love at dinner. But I was too entranced at this up-close-and-personal view I had of his face to start thinking about that. He even had a few freckles of his own here and there, things one would only notice a breath away and in the right light.

Garrick raised my hands to his mouth and pressed his lips against my knuckles, looking me square in the eye. The world around me melted away. He took the lead, his sure and steady hands positioning me as he saw fit. One moment I was standing before him, grinning bashfully, and the next I hung in his arms, the expensive fabric of my slitted dress cascading down to the floor while he held me bridal style. My smile came easy, natural and broad. Everything brightened. He'd place me in his lap, his chin over my shoulder, and play with my hands. Lips coming to my ear, he'd say silly things, voice low, and I would laugh. The flashes and constant buzz of conversation around us fogged out into insignificant background noise.

I found his hand on my upper thigh, his other snaked around the small of my back as he dipped me, and grinned down into my face.

Heart racing and face flushed, my body gravitated toward him again, longing for any little touch he graced me with. No matter what I told myself, the revelation that had come to me in the shower still sang true, and I was just as much putty with him now as I had been in that sauna. I fought the fierce desire to kiss him, to pull myself against him and beg never to be released from his embrace. Spellbound, I memorized the details of his face, chiseled chest, and arms.

I had judged him wrongly, of that I stood certain. Garrick Maze had to be more than a Hollywood playboy if he could ignite my heart with a touch of his hands and a single glance. I burned for him. I’d give anything to stay like this forever.

Unprompted by the photographer, Garrick leaned down and granted my wish. I couldn’t have stopped him even if I wanted to. Slipping his hand to the nape of my neck, cradled in his arm, he pressed his lips to mine. The flashes dissolved as my eyes fluttered closed. Completely enraptured in his dreamy embrace, I instinctively bent my knee, hiking it up a bit higher on his thigh.

"That's a wrap, ladies and gentlemen!” the photographer announced. A light wave of unanimous clapping moved through the room. My eyes snapped open, intensely aware that I’d forgotten the rest of the crew in our passionate embrace.

“Splendid, splendid” Lyle exclaimed, wiping tears off his cheeks. Alice’s eyes, glued to the floor, refused to look at us. Erica held
Straightlaced
in front of her face, just below her eyes, hiding what had to be a healthy blush. Shane and Tyler sat in the corner, twiddling their thumbs.