It looked as if her plan to make him more comfortable was working. Except, when he laughed like that, it made him look sexy as hell—and that made it much more difficult for her to keep her part of the bargain, to be detached and think of him as a life model.
Not that Sammy was looking for a relationship right now. She was too busy with her job, and she was fed up to the back teeth with dating Mr Wrong—men who ran for the hills in panic, the second they learned about her past, or who saw themselves as her knight in shining armour and wrapped her so tightly in cotton wool that she couldn’t breathe. None of them had seen her as a woman.
Then again, she wasn’t really a whole woman any more, was she? So she couldn’t put the blame completely on them.
And after Bryn had finally been the one to break her heart, Sammy had decided that it would be much easier to focus on her family, her friends and her job and forget completely about romance.
Though the wedding she’d photographed a couple of months ago had made her feel wistful; now both her best friends were loved-up and settled. And although she was really happy for both of them, it had left her feeling just the tiniest bit lonely. And the tiniest bit sorry for herself. Even if she ever did manage to meet her Mr Right, there was no guarantee of a happy ending. Not if he wanted children of his own, without any kind of complications. She couldn’t offer that.
She pushed the thought away. Enough of the pity party. She had a great life. A family who loved her—even if they were a tad on the overprotective side—friends who’d celebrate the good times with her and be there for her in the bad times, and a job that really fulfilled her. Asking for more was just greedy.
‘No gavel, then. So what else am I looking at?’
‘OK. In front of the judge you have the clerk of the court, the usher, and the person who makes the sound recording of the trial or a stenographer who types it up as the trial goes along. They face the same way as the judge.’ He walked over to the benches facing the judge’s bench. ‘This is where the barristers sit, though we stand when we’re addressing the court. The defence barrister is nearest to the jury—’ he indicated the seats at the side of the room ‘—and the prosecution barrister is nearest to the witness box. The solicitors sit behind the barristers, and at the back is the dock where the defendant sits. Over there behind the witness box you have the public gallery and the press bench.’
‘So it’d make the most sense to photograph you where you’d normally stand in court,’ she said. Exactly where she’d always planned for him to pose—and where her equipment just so happened to be waiting. ‘OK. Can you stand there for me?’
‘Dressed like this?’ he asked.
She smiled. ‘For the moment, yes—though if you wouldn’t mind putting on your gown, that’d help with the light meter readings.’
He shrugged on his gown and went to stand at the barristers’ bench. She noticed that he was looking nervous again.
‘You’re really not going to end up on the front page of the newspapers with headlines screaming about “top barrister flashes his bits”,’ she reassured him. ‘The point of the calendar is to sell gorgeous men posed artistically.’ And Nick definitely fitted the bill on both counts. ‘If the bench doesn’t cover your modesty, so to speak, then you can hold a bunch of papers in a strategic place. Don’t you normally have a bunch of papers with you in court, tied with a pink ribbon?’
‘A brief,’ he said. ‘It’s the instructions from my client. The defence has a pink silk ribbon and the prosecution uses white.’
Though he still didn’t look convinced about the shoot.
She sighed. ‘Look, just stand there for a second.’
As he did so, she took her camera body out of its carrying case, fitted a lens so she could take a quick photograph, then came over to show him the digital picture on the screen. ‘This obviously isn’t a proper composition—for the real one I’ll be quite a bit more nit-picky about the lighting and the lens—but it should be enough to prove to you that your dignity will remain intact. OK now?’
‘Sorry.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I know I’m being ridiculous about this. I guess this just isn’t the normal sort of thing I’d do in a day’s work.’
‘That’s pretty much what everyone’s said so far.’ She grinned. ‘Well, except for the actor. He didn’t mind stripping off, but I guess he’d done it a few times before. All in the name of art, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Nick echoed, still looking uncomfortable.
‘And what you do in court—you have a persona, and that’s a bit like acting, isn’t it?’
‘A bit, I suppose,’ Nick said. ‘But, as I said, at work I’m normally wearing quite formal dress—not standing in the middle of the room, almost naked.’
‘For what it’s worth,’ Sammy said, ‘I think what you’re doing is really special. It takes guts—everyone’s happy enough to put their hand in their pocket and donate money to a good cause, but you’re doing something out of the ordinary. Something that’s going to make a lot more of a difference. And I bet whoever you’re doing this for is hugely proud of you.’
‘My sister,’ he said, ‘and my nephew.’
‘The ward treated your nephew?’ she asked softly.
He nodded. ‘Xander’s in remission at the moment.’
She guessed the bargain he’d made in his head: if he did this to help raise money, then Fate might smile on his nephew and keep him in remission. She knew her own sister had made the same bargain, and it was why Jenny had her hair cropped at the same time as Sammy did, every two years.
She wondered briefly why Xander’s father hadn’t offered to do the calendar shoot. Or maybe it was just that Nick had a more photogenic job. It was none of her business, anyway. She was just here to do the shoot.
‘OK. I’m happy with that position. Now, there aren’t any windows in here; plus we’ve got a notice on the door, so nobody’s going to walk in on us. It’s quite safe. So, while I’m setting up properly here, do you want to lose the clothes?’
* * *
No, Nick didn’t want to lose the clothes. At all.
But he’d promised he’d do it, and he wasn’t going to break his word. ‘What do you want me to wear out of the court dress?’ he asked, drawing on his usual court demeanour and trying to sound as if he was completely unflustered.
‘Wig, collar and bands, and we’ll try some shots with the gown and some without,’ she said. ‘I take it you followed my instructions to avoid marks on your skin?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Let’s do this.’
Nick felt incredibly self-conscious stripping off. Putting on the collar and bands without his tunic shirt felt weird. Though the silk gown was soft against his skin, and he gathered it in front of him to cover himself and went to stand by the bench.
‘We’ll do some shots sitting down, first,’ Sammy said. ‘I guess you need some papers spread out on the bench in front of you.’
Luckily
