Through The Lens (Creative Hearts Book 1)

Through the Lens

Published by River Hills Press

Copyright ©2012 by Kwana Jackson

Cover by Mae Phillips at
www.coverfreshdesigns.com

ISBN (ebook): 978-1-941097-06-9

ISBN (print): 978-1-941097-07-6

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected].

All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.
 
www.kwana.com

Other titles by K.M. Jackson

The Creative Hearts Series

Book 1: Through The Lens

Book 2: Seduction’s Canvas

Book 3:Threads of Desire

Bounce

For my husband Will,

Who always challenges me in the best of ways,

With Love.

Acknowledgments

How strange it is to find yourself finally writing acknowledgments after so many years of writing queries. You see, for a writer, the acknowledgment page is something you dream about, sort of like how an actor dreams of an Oscar acceptance speech, but you never quite prepare for it. That is unless you’re, say, Meryl Streep and a shoe-in for the big win, then of course you come prepared, even though you say you’re not. You’re sooo surprised. Got it?

That said, here I am, rambling like I do and writing the acknowledgments for my first-ever published (and now self-pubbed)
 
book. Can you tell I’m nervous? Well, I’d better wipe my sweaty palms and get going, before the music starts and I’m kicked off the stage only a few names into my list. Here goes...

First, I have to thank my husband and love of more than twenty years, Will. For a lifetime of believing in me and my dreams, a few words on a page can never be enough. You were my hero then, and you still are today. I love you forever.

To my children, Kayla and William, who are my inspirations to always keep going. I hope you know that each time I’ve written a word after yet another rejection, it was for you. Never give up on what God has for you. Now, read no further. This is so not your book!

My never-ending love goes to my family: Ma, Nana, James, Ashley, Semaj, Cynthia and the rest of the gang. I love you for always thinking I was writing something akin to Tolstoy or Morrison. Really, there is nothing like family to boost a girl’s ego.

To my girls, Karli and Ceska, you’ve been my nearest and dearest forever- thank you. Wendy and Kiya, thanks for all the years of encouragement and the laughter.
 

Patricia, thanks for all your support and cheer. And to the rest of the Knitsters: Eileen, Sue, Taina and Amy, what would I do without my crew to keep me sane? I love you all.

To my PIC Megan, thanks for always being my sounding board. And to the best critique partners ever, Jen and Jeanine. I don’t think I’d have hung in there without you.

To Mae at CoverFresh and to Julie and the fab Formatting Fairies, you are truly magical!
 

Never-ending gratitude to my generous writing community of friends: Elizabeth, thanks for all your support. And to all of RWA-NYC for always being there. What an amazing organization. Thank you to Marley, Wendy, Jax and Maureen. Love you always. Thank you for the years of friendship and support. To Phyllis, Farrah and Laura, you all kept me going. Thank you! Rhonda, this book would be nothing without you. To Louise, you are a great friend and a treasure.

And to anyone and everyone who, through my years of writing, re-writing, conference going and blogging over at “ye old blog”, has ever sent a nice comment, said a kind word or sent an encouraging tweet (go Twitter posse!), I thank you from the bottom, top and middle of my heart. You can’t know how much that word may have meant to the writer, who at that moment may have been sitting alone with nothing but doubt as her companion. You all are true inspirations and motivations to me.

Finally—though he should have been first on the list—I’d like to thank God for blessing me with all of the precious jewels listed here and the wonderful ones to come.
 

As always, my wish for you all is Happiness, Peace and Joy!
 

Love,

KMJ

P.S. A special thanks to The Jackster for being my barking muse. Without him, this writer may never have gotten dressed and out of the house. I thank you and the UPS man does too.

Chapter 1

The boat pitched forward and once again, Mika Walters’s stomach did that revolting tuck-roll-flip thing that made sweat pop out on her brow. It was in that exact moment she decided that, if she were to be sick, the best place would be all over her boss’s leather-clad feet.
 

Instead, she swallowed and held on as crystal blue water lapped at the sides of the old ferry, rocking the vessel back and forth. Mika couldn’t help but notice the erratic motion perfectly matched her frayed nerves. She worried at her bottom lip. Why did he insist on going to this island in the middle of nowhere to shoot anyway? And now traveling by this rickety ferry on top of it—they could capsize on the way, and no one would be the wiser. She looked up from his sandaled feet and narrowed her gaze on her employer. Yep, she was sure it was to punish her for messing up the crew’s plans.
 

“We could have stayed on the mainland, you know,” Mika grumbled toward her boss, photographer Alejandro Vargas.
 

But her words seemed to go unnoticed. As usual, his eyes and attention were elsewhere.
 

She tightened her grip on the boat’s edge as she studied Alejandro. Currently he was looking through his camera’s view-finder, his gaze trained on something far in the distance. His body was relaxed and swaying with the boat, but his arms were strong and steady, keeping the lens perfectly still.

How did he do it?
she wondered to herself, not for the first time that day. How did he manage to look so cool in this, what? 98? 100-degree heat? And the rocking boat was enough to make a seasoned sailor ill, but still, Alejandro the Great was unflappable.
 

Well, she would not be sick. There was no way she was giving him the satisfaction. Mika took a deep breath through her mouth to ease her stomach. She then gave Ale a cool once-over, traveling from his rich dark hair, cropped short with hints of sun-kissed gold, down his strong nose with those slightly flaring nostrils, to those full lips she was sure if placed in just the right spot could—

“I know,” he said over his shoulder. His deep voice jolted her out of her very inappropriate, but lately all-too-frequent diversion of assessing his stormy good looks. Thankfully his attention was still trained somewhere on the horizon so he didn’t catch her longing and lusting. So very un-Mika like.
 

She nervously ran sweaty palms over her thighs. What had gotten into her—or better yet, what needed to? Since her break up with Eric What-a-Waste-of-Two-Years a couple of months ago, she’d been on edge and having these crazy Alejandro fantasies.
 

She wrinkled her nose. If she was honest with herself, the Alejandro fantasies came long before the break up, but that was neither here nor there. Probably some silly work-slash-boss-slash-hero-worship thing. Totally inappropriate and, therefore, to be pushed aside, which she rightly did.

“I know you know,” she answered, her voice clipped and tight. “But care to share with me why we’re going to this remote island three days ahead of the rest of the crew when we can’t even do the shoot? I’ve already apologized. Besides, we could have stayed at the hotel on the mainland and gotten ready for the shoot there. Caught up on some other outstanding business.”

Nothing. Not a turn or a movement. Alejandro was getting his shot and didn’t deem her question worthy of an answer at this time.
 

That was it. He
was
punishing her for screwing up the travel plans. Well, sorry. It wasn’t easy being photographer’s assistant
and
his Gal Friday, too.
 

When she took the job three years ago, she was expecting it to be the learning experience of a lifetime and a launching pad to her own career as a photographer. Mika hoped it would be the first step to taking her mapped-out career plans and setting them firmly on course. She’d dreamed of it being magnificent, learning from Alejandro the Great——conqueror of fashion, women and, as it turned out, assistants. And for the most part it was. Alejandro, living up to his reputation, was a true genius with an unparalleled eye. And over the years, he’d never been stingy about sharing his knowledge with her. She’d forever be grateful for that. But somehow the job became more than she’d bargained for. Who knew the man could be so downright difficult? Chewing up even the mightiest of assistants and spitting them out in the blink of an eye. Well, she wasn’t one to cower. She’d been the only person able to stick it out with him for any length of time and in the end, ended up doing the job of two or three people. Hell, his agent even hated to call him. But enough was enough.
 

She worried at her lip again as motion sickness was surpassed by a haunting thread of melancholy. This was always designed to be a transient part of her dream. And now it was about to come to an end. Though Alejandro didn’t know it yet, this would be their last location job together.
Job
being the operative word there, she reminded herself. Mika pushed her mixed emotions aside and focused on what was at hand.
 

“You know, we wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t fired Brian,” she said challengingly. “He should have been on hand to handle the travel arrangements.”

Finally, he turned toward her, lowering his camera. Mika watched the muscles in his tanned arms flex. His eyes, a rich chocolate brown highlighted with the same flecks of gold that teased at his hair, leveled her with a hard stare. It was the same stare that made grown men quiver in their boots.
 

But she would not flinch. She stared back, giving as good as she got.
 

Ale’s voice was soft and even, but laced with an edge that said she may be treading in dangerous waters. “No. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d coordinated everything properly. We both know Brian couldn’t get a simple coffee order right, which is why he is no longer in my employ. I relied on you for this, and now we have to wait three days for the rest of the crew to show up at the hotel for the shoot. No clothes, make-up artists, or models.” His voice rose with impatience ever so slightly then leveled out again. “Well, I’m not letting these days go to waste by just lounging at a hotel and tapping my fingers. We’re checking out this island, and you never know, it may be a better location than the mainland. I was not inspired there. Besides, I can get some shots for my book. You know how I feel about wasting time.”

Mika nodded. Of course, his book. His special side project. Lately, it was all he could think about when he wasn’t shooting for a job. He was like a man obsessed. Always on the hunt for the perfect shot for it, but nothing seemed to satisfy him. To her, most of the ones he took were amazing, but she wound up filing away hundreds of images for him that were breathtaking, but dismissed. Deemed not what he was looking for. Which begged the question: exactly what was he looking for?

“At least if I had Karina...” Ale continued, his voice trailing off with the woman’s name.

Mika felt her blood immediately heat, and was annoyed at herself for it. Karina. The It model of the moment. She was sure if Alejandro had Karina, or any of the other models booked for this week’s shoot with him he’d have plans for plenty of action—ones that didn’t all involve working on his beloved book.
 

She gave her head a slight shake as she twisted her lip, biting the outside edge. No, she wasn’t going to dwell. Soon the days of watching Alejandro go from one long-legged conquest to another would be behind her.
 

“Come on, Mika. Let’s make the best of this,” he said, his mood shifting like the winds on water. He gestured toward the buckling sea craft under their feet that dared call itself a ferry just as a choppy pocket tossed them up in the air then abruptly crashed them back down.