type of man. Just not yet. You know I want the design promotion, so as soon as I get back from vacation—”
“The doomed vacation?”
“Not doomed, postponed.”
Originally, Olivia and Sean had planned to go to the remote Pacific island resort of Kaokara together, but had rescheduled because he’d been sick. When she thought of how she’d taken the rat fink her homemade chicken noodle soup…. Olivia had been forced to reschedule again when a last-minute crisis arose at work. Now she planned to take the trip alone, needing the tropical rest and relaxation more than ever.
“I reconfirmed my flight this morning. The minute that shoot in South Carolina is wrapped up, I am out of here.” Mentioning the beach assignment reminded Olivia of the startling switch in photographers. “Hey, did you know Fred’s sister was sick?”
“I heard she needs an operation. Her prognosis is great, but Fred’s going down for a little while to help with her kids. What brought that up?”
“The new photographer, Justin Hawthorne. He’s being officially introduced at the meeting this afternoon. He dropped by my office earlier to let me know he’s going with me Wednesday. Met him yet?”
“Nope, I was tied up on the phone all morning with modeling agencies. Is he anything like Fred?”
“They could not be more different.” Unfortunately. “I mistook him for one of your guys gone astray.”
Meg arched an eyebrow. “He’s as attractive as our male models?”
Better. “Close enough.”
“Oh, good, new eye candy!” Meg leaned back with a grin. “Maybe this afternoon’s meeting won’t be so boring after all.”
Not sharing her friend’s enthusiasm, Olivia smiled weakly. After a brief dating fast, she was going to change her ways—stop dating yummy heartbreakers and find a nice reliable man and a healthy relationship, the romantic equivalent of salad. She didn’t need the temptation of walking pieces of chocolate like Justin Hawthorne.
2
OLIVIA WAS somewhat dismayed that, as soon as she set foot in the conference room, her gaze went to Justin in spite of the other people present. She barely saw Meg point out the seat she’d saved or noted that the side table actually held herbal tea today. Normally, there was just coffee, another one of Olivia’s nonvices.
Instead of paying attention to any of that, her eyes followed Justin. It was as if the meeting were being captioned in the same romanticized style as their upscale catalog. Although casually attired in dark denim and a white button-down shirt, there was nothing casual about the intimacy of his warm smile.
She blinked. Good thing she had that vacation coming up.
Standing at the head of the table, wearing a tie that made one wonder how he’d landed a job in the fashion world, Steve Reynolds smiled. “Liv, you’re here. Great, we can get started.”
As someone who had spent the fourth grade as “Big Liv,” she despised the nickname Liv, but not enough to remind her promotion-wielding—or withholding—boss.
People began taking seats around the dark oval table, and Steve pointed toward the still-standing Justin. “Everyone, this is Justin Hawthorne, the newest member of our team. We were lucky enough to steal him from Hilliard. Liv, he’ll be your photographer for the swimsuit spread. Justin Hawthorne, meet Olivia Lockhart.”
Olivia opened her mouth to tell Steve that she’d met the photographer, but Justin cut her off.
“Nice to officially make your acquaintance.” He took her hand and she almost jumped, surprised by the contact and by how immediately his skin warmed hers.
He pulled his fingers away, but the heat of his touch remained. Her pulse quickened, and Olivia sat down, harboring high hopes for the calming effects of the chamomile tea Meg pushed toward her.
Steve began the meeting with his customary call for new ideas, which he preempted with his own. To his credit, Steve often had wonderful ideas, but was it really necessary to pause at studied intervals so his underlings could fawn over his brilliance? Olivia had learned that the best way to get along with her boss was to tune him out the majority of the time. Listening with half an ear for anything that might apply to her, she let her attention wander.
Unfortunately, it wandered to Justin Hawthorne two chairs down, to his smile and the brush of his hand against hers. She tried to recall what he’d smelled like, but she’d been so overwhelmed by his touch that she hadn’t had time to notice. Expensive cologne? A simple aftershave? Soap?
His grin was killer, and she tried to imagine his laugh. Deep, probably. A sexy rumble of amusement.
She sighed. Didn’t she ever learn? When a man looked like sin in jeans, it was best to stay far away from him, not dwell on his mouth, or the color of his eyes, which were the green of very deep water off Florida’s Emerald Coast….
Okay, she was fine now. She just needed to concentrate on something patently unsexy to combat Justin’s appeal and the boredom of this meeting. Aha! Her clogged sink, filled with brown gunk that morning because something had come up through the pipes and the super hadn’t come in to fix it before she left for work. Problem solved.
“…with Justin and Olivia.”
At the sound of her name, Olivia’s gaze shot to her boss.
“The two of you can discuss concepts and location on the drive up.”
She and Justin would be riding together, staying at the same hotel. In two very separate rooms, she reminded herself, annoyed by her juvenile twinge of excitement. Plus, the models and crew would be there. Nothing cozy about the setting at all.
“Liv, I liked your preliminary layout descriptions. Just make sure you and Justin are on the same page and that we get what we need.”
She had great ideas she couldn’t wait to use for promoting their new line of swimwear. Of course, none of those ideas came to mind just now. She was sidetracked by images of her and her photographer, alone on a romantic beach. What was that old movie where the couple kissed as waves crashed over them?
Telling herself sand was more gritty than sexy, Olivia dutifully fixated on her broken sink. A new picture flashed behind her eyes: Justin standing in her kitchen, clothed only in a pair of jeans and a toolbelt.
Then Steve mentioned that the South Carolina trip had been moved to Thursday, and she completely—well, partially, anyway—forgot about a shirtless Justin in her apartment.
“Moved to Thursday?” She couldn’t finish the two-day shoot in time to catch her Friday flight. “No one mentioned that to me.”
“It was just decided,” Steve explained impatiently. “Justin can’t go Wednesday.”
“B-but I leave for my vacation Friday.” It wasn’t as though flights to the small island left Hartsfield every day; who knew when she could arrange the next one? With the fashion show coming up, she’d been lucky to squeeze in time off now.
Steve shrugged. “So
