Even if she wasn’t interested in celebrating his newfound freedom with him, that didn’t mean he couldn’t make the most out of working side by side with her. And there were plenty of other mermaids in the sea.
Tomorrow he left for a beach shoot with lingerie models. How much better did one guy’s life get?
No complications, he promised himself.
JEANIE STOOD in Olivia’s office early Thursday morning, theoretically helping with a last-minute check to make sure Olivia wasn’t forgetting anything. In reality, she was mooning over Justin, who had peeked his head in a second ago to tell Olivia he was ready when she was.
“Isn’t he delicious?” The receptionist sighed. “The man is practically edible.”
Olivia wouldn’t mind Justin at her dinner table—with his head on a platter.
“I bumped into him outside Steve’s office this morning,” Jeanie confided, “and, for a second, I thought he was flirting with me. Much nicer pick-me-up than coffee!”
He probably had been flirting with her. The skunk. “I thought you were in love with Albert.”
“I am. But even I have to admit, he’s no Justin.”
Exactly! The Justins of the world were the sexy men women sighed over…and later cried over. The Alberts of the world were the reliable ones who paid bills on time and never cheated on their wives. Once her promotion was in the bag, Olivia would find herself a nice solid Albert.
Last night, she’d gone home to torture herself with the image of Justin in that restaurant with the blonde. She’d also entertained fantasies of confronting him, but that would be like yelling at a leopard about its spots. Pointless.
Though she was entitled to her righteous indignation, fighting with Justin would only be counterproductive. Those up for promotion practiced good people skills and didn’t antagonize Steve’s newest office favorite. Besides, she and Justin needed to cooperate to have a decent shoot. She was adult enough to work with the man and ignore his tawdry personal life.
The receptionist zipped up the laptop in its black carry bag. “Think you’re all set, Liv.”
Olivia bit down on her tongue. It wasn’t the younger woman’s fault that the nickname had spread.
“Your cell phone is charged,” Jeanie continued, “and that’s all the files you asked for. Justin has the keys to the company car, and I had one of the guys transfer your suitcase to the trunk.”
“Thanks, Jeanie.” Olivia picked up her coat and folded it over her arm. “Have a great weekend.”
Reaching the elevator just as the doors were closing, she quickened her steps. “Wait! Hold the elevator, please.”
The silver doors slid back, revealing Justin Hawthorne, an appealing masculine picture in his leather bomber jacket and well-fitting khaki slacks.
“Hey.” He grinned. “I was going to get the map out of my car, then come back upstairs and chauvinistically harass you about how long it takes women to get ready.”
Her jaw tightened. No doubt he thought his teasing was cute.
At her pinched expression, Justin reached out and touched her shoulder. “You feeling all right this morning?”
The cotton that separated his hand from her bare flesh seemed to enhance his touch rather than protect her from it. “Fine. Thank you.” Why didn’t knowing what kind of man he was stop the zing that zipped through her?
It was just the elevator, she assured herself as she scooted slightly out of reach. The enclosed space forced her to stand so close she could feel the warmth of his body and breathe in his unique personal scent, which she already knew too well. Steamy scenes from different movies flashed through her mind, and she wondered why she’d never noticed how sensual elevators were before.
Stop it. You’ve learned from your mistakes, remember? Fantasizing about sex with Justin against the elevator wall was not the sign of a wiser woman. If nothing else, the blinking red light of the security camera mounted in the corner brought her back to reality.
The elevator wobbled slightly as it finished its descent, and the doors parted. Olivia stepped forward purposefully. Justin followed, lifting a key ring and unlocking the company car with an audible beep.
Hours together loomed ahead, but she could handle the ride. Speak to him only when necessary and ignore him the rest of the time.
Whenever that got difficult, she’d remind herself of how he’d smiled and complimented her in the break room the other day and how, for a brief moment, she’d been foolish enough to imagine a real connection between them.
4
SINCE MICROMANAGING was not part of her leadership style, Olivia stood to the side, shoes kicked off, the sand cool and smooth beneath her bare feet. Though intermittently windy, especially here by the water, it was a beautiful day—unseasonably warm, if still a little chilly for the bathing suits they were photographing. Squinting against the sand-flecked breeze, Justin took the white diffusion dome from an assistant and measured the light with a handheld flashmeter.
Olivia’s personal feelings about him notwithstanding, he’d been doing a great job. She watched him adjust an aluminum reflector to modify the way sunlight fell across Stormy.
While none of Sweet Nothings’ models was a famous Frederique or Tyra, several of them were becoming increasingly well known, and the hotel staff was excited to be hosting such a glamorous endeavor on its private stretch of beach. Like their bigger competitors, such as the notable Victoria’s Secret, Sweet Nothings was taking what it knew about push-up bras and tummy-flattering panels and applying it to sexy swimwear.
Stormy and Felicia posed in daring suits while everyone else wore clothes more appropriate to the early-spring weather. Resplendent in a bright red string bikini, Stormy was blond with eyes that actually were the gray-violet of storm clouds, thanks to the modern miracle of colored contacts. Chestnut-haired, green-eyed Felicia wore a blue one-piece with so many cutouts and straps that she managed to reveal as much flesh as her counterpart. Both women were perfectly, if artificially, tanned.
The sirens of old lured men with their songs, but you won’t need to sing a note to catch his attention while wearing one of our signature bathing suits.
Unable to shake her copywriting roots, Olivia dreamed up ad passages while Justin took picture after picture, first with a digital camera, then a traditional one. She couldn’t help noticing that Felicia put a little extra something into her smiles. And why not? Justin had been openly admiring her since the shoot had begun.
I don’t care that he flirts with models.
But indifference shouldn’t burn and stick in her throat. When Justin stopped to reload film and the models stepped behind the portable changing screens to don the next preselected suits, Olivia stole a moment for herself, strolling away a few feet. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the salty musk of sea and sand, hoping to dispel her fixation with the photographer who was as adept at charming women as he was at snapping pictures.
THOUGH Justin was looking through the viewfinder of his camera, he knew the moment Olivia started across the beach.
