silky sheets, skin to skin? Was he still all hard edges and intense eyes then?
A shiver skidded over her skin. She didn’t need to be around any man with the capacity to be dangerous. Still, she wondered what it would take to make him smile. Reaching out to draw her finger along his outline again, she stopped when her fingers met his lips.
Maybe Mr. November could remind her how good being with a real man could be, not some jerk who got off on hurting women. They would be working alone for several days, moving around the city. Almost nothing was as intimate to Lacey as staring down the barrel of her lens at someone, closing in, finding the shot.
It was New York City. Anything could happen.
SLOPE OF HIS CROUP, HUH? Would she be asking to check his teeth or feeling him up for spavins and thorough-pins and other physical faults before they were done? Jarod Wyatt shook his head, mostly amused. The idea of her feeling him up wasn’t an entirely unappealing one, and at least she knew something about horses. He hadn’t expected that from a city girl.
He stood in the dark corner of the Bliss studio, fascinated by the conversations he’d overheard, and more so with the woman who couldn’t seem to keep her hands off him—or off his picture, anyway.
The smaller, dark-haired girl with the lusty sense of humor walked out the back, leaving the blonde—the photographer—standing alone in perfect silhouette against the white wall. She was lanky and somewhat coltish in build, but she moved gracefully. Her fingers were long and thin like the rest of her, though beneath the khakis and black T-shirt, he could see she had her share of curves.
Jarod had only been to New York once before, on the day after the bombings. The empty spot on the skyline still kicked him in the chest because he’d stood in the middle of it for several days and those were memories he wasn’t likely to ever forget. He wasn’t sure what he expected to feel coming back. Mostly it was good to see the city had recovered, that it was busy and teeming with life, the way it should be.
On the approach, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the spot where the Towers used to be, but he noted driving in that there was so much life here, nothing could ever completely erase it. New York was a place unique unto itself, and if he wasn’t here for such a ridiculous reason, he might enjoy the visit. He loved the scrub desert and wide-open spaces of Texas. His home was a part of his soul. Still, he enjoyed getting away every now and then, just like anyone else. Cities had their advantages.
He’d also been told there was a decent place that did Texas barbecue better than he could find in his home state. He didn’t want to believe it, but he had the address in his PDA and hoped to find out for himself.
Feeling a little like a Peeping Tom, he figured he should make himself known. He’d stayed to the back when he’d walked in, not wanting to interrupt, but now there wasn’t any reason to lurk, except that he was enjoying the view.
Clearing his throat gently to signal his presence, he stepped forward from the hallway where he’d been standing. She whipped around, obviously startled, and he froze. Her posture signaled fright to him. Not a jump or a gasp of broken concentration, but her big eyes landed on him with a look that he’d seen far too often. Fear. Momentary panic.
He put his hands up, calming, showing he was no threat.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, ma’am. I’m Lt. Jarod Wyatt, Texas Rangers, El Paso division—November, as you have me up on your board there,” he said with a healthy dose of Texas charm and sincere chagrin. The picture reminded him why he was here, and it made his eyes roll every time he thought about it.
“You’re not due until tomorrow,” she said starkly, sounding a bit choked, as if trying to breathe correctly. Was she always this jumpy? She’d mentioned Nevada. Maybe she wasn’t a city girl as he’d assumed.
“I took an early flight. Thought I’d stop by and check the place out. The door was open, and a secretary pushed me in this direction,” he explained with just a hint of apology, then held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I guess you’re the photographer?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why would you assume that?”
Whoops. He didn’t want to let her know he’d been skulking in the corner for the past fifteen minutes. From the glare in her eyes, he wasn’t sure that would go over too well.
Lacey Graham was a prickly number. Pretty as could be, though, he thought, taking in fine, almost porcelain features. Her eyes snapped dark green, and her mouth formed a perfectly pink rosebud, bare of any lipstick. Just what he preferred.
“Well, ma’am, it doesn’t take much to figure out. You’re here, in the studio, checking out the pictures on this big board, and speaking matter-of-factly, I heard you and your assistant talking when I first came in. Didn’t want to interrupt,” he offered by way of explanation and was glad to see her shoulders relax, her frame softening as she nodded.
“Sorry. It’s not a good idea to sneak up on someone like that, especially after hours. I’m Lacey Graham, but I guess you already knew that.”
Her hand was small in his, but strong. She had a firm grip, which triggered a small dart of unexpected arousal that he firmly pushed to the back of his mind.
“So this is the calendar spread, huh?” he said, scrutinizing the wall, trying to ignore his own picture among the others. He recognized one or two of the other guys, men he respected, and it helped him to not feel quite so cheesy about doing this. Not that he’d had much choice in the matter.
“Yep. These are just the PR shots we’re using to play with. It will all change when we have the actual photos we choose for the final, but this gives me some idea what I want to do with each model.”
“All due respect, but I’m not a model, and I’m betting none of these other guys are either.”
He saw the corners of her lips twitch. “With all due respect back, Lieutenant, you are a model for the next week. It’ll be fun, don’t worry.”
He frowned. “A week? I thought we’d spend a day taking pictures and I’d be on my way?”
She shook her head. “It will take more than that. We’re shooting around the city, so I had to arrange for permissions to use various locations for each model. Some we have to get to at crazy times of day, they have to clear them out for a few hours, and that needs planning. Then I’d like to do some unposed, candid shots. The letter we sent stated the time requirements clearly.”
He took a breath, shoved his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t going to admit he’d been in a bitch of a mood about having been ordered to do this in the first place, and when the letter had come in the mail he’d ditched it, thinking he’d get out of the whole deal. His superiors had made him realize differently. Even law enforcement cared about public image these days. Far too much, in his view.
“I guess I figured it wouldn’t take that long,” he said, wincing slightly at the idea of this taking up so much time. “It’s just a few pictures.”
She laughed then, and he was struck by the sound, how lively and natural it was. He had a feeling she used it a lot.
“It’s much more than that. We need to cover a lot of ground, and I want to cover all four seasons from all models, since I may change my mind as to who gets placed where in the final analysis. This is a big deal, Lieutenant. I want this calendar to be a wild success.”
“Good
