Picture me Sexy

He fired off another few shots, then paused. “Let me ask you something. Are you, or have you ever been attracted to a woman?”

She pulled a thoughtful face and winced. “No,” she said slowly. “But I’m hoping I can work past that.”

A laugh stuttered out of his chest. “That’s certainly an interesting goal.”

She pulled an offhanded shrug, baring a little more creamy skin. “Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

Sam finished off the roll of film. “Okay, that’s got this set completed. Wanna go change and meet me back in here?”

He’d said it casually, hoping not to lose what little ground they seemed to have gained during this stage of the shoot, but the instant his suggestion registered, her anxiety returned full force. Previously relaxed muscles went tight with tension and a frown wrinkled the smooth line of her brow.

Sam pretended to tweak his camera and eventually she nodded. “Sure. I’ll, uh, be right back.”

Theoretically speaking, if he were an outlet and she a plug, then one could reasonably assume that when she walked out of the room—pulled the plug, so to speak—he would return to normal. The clawing need would subside, his mega hard-on would wilt, and his skin would quit prickling.

To Sam’s disquiet, it didn’t and he grimly suspected that until he had her, it never would.

And having her was absolutely out of the question.

Number one, he didn’t sleep with clients. He’d worked hard to build a reputable business, depended heavily on word-of-mouth advertising. Everybody knew hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. One pissed-off chick with a vicious tongue could literally cost him thousands of dollars. Sam had seen it happen before.

Secondly, even if he were to forget the no-fornicating-with-a-client rule, it certainly wouldn’t be with a woman as emotionally wrecked as Delaney Walker. Sheesh. She’d just been jilted, was so messed up that she was considering becoming a lesbian. He’d have to be the biggest fool on earth to even consider letting something become of this hellish attraction that had blazed between them.

Finally, were those reasons not enough—which they certainly were—he desperately wanted a job at the Chifferobe. Wanted a shot at it so badly that he could taste it. This was his chance, dammit. He couldn’t afford to screw it up by acting on an almost overwhelming attraction. He could handle it. Would have to.

With that bracing thought, Sam turned as Delaney tentatively made her way back into the studio. His mind blanked as every ounce of blood he possessed raced back toward his groin. Every hair on his body stood on end and his breath froze in his lungs.

This gown was a long, sheer black silk wonder that left her shoulders bare beneath spaghetti straps, snugged against the full mounds of her breasts, showcased a mere slip of a waist and the generous curves of her hips. Open eyelet work trimmed with red appliqued roses formed a slinky S that curled provocatively around one breast, over her abdomen, down her hip and finally landed at the floor-length hem.

Other than her arms and shoulders, and a few peekaboo places down the front, she was covered from head to toe, but as far as Sam was concerned she might as well be naked. All that silky light-blond hair lay pooled over one shoulder and she’d tortured that full bottom lip until only a trace of her lipstick remained. He had never in his life seen a more beautiful woman.

Never.

In addition to all of the weird physical sensations he’d been subjected to since the moment he laid eyes on her, another more disconcerting feeling suddenly commenced in his chest, making it hard for him to draw a breath. It grew tight, then swelled with some unnamed emotion.

Delaney smiled self-consciously, making her all the more gorgeous. “Okay,” she sighed. “Now where do you want me?”

His tenuous grasp on control almost snapped. Where did he want her? Anywhere. Right there. Who cared? The only thing that lay between him and her were about ten feet of hardwood and a couple of scraps of clothing. With a little creative maneuvering, he could take her right there. In a heartbeat.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, forced the erection-provoking vision to subside. “What about over there?” He pointed to the animal print set. At the moment, he didn’t trust himself to say more.

Delaney crossed her arms over her chest, inadvertently plumping her generous breasts even more, and moved to the set he’d indicated. She sat stiffly on the couch. “Okay. Now what?”

“Why don’t you tell me about something that relaxes you?” Sam suggested, trying to loosen her up again. The tactic had worked before and perhaps a little conversation would make him quit thinking about tracing that peekaboo lace with his tongue. About bending her over the end of that couch and plunging into her sweet, slick heat from behind.

She forced a smile. Looked nervously around the room. “Chocolate relaxes me.”

He chuckled. So those rumors were true. He’d heard of her legendary chocoholism as well as a couple of interesting tidbits about her office. He’d heard that her inner sanctum was crammed full of antiques, was decorated in shades red, rose and pale pink and had been designed to look like the inside of a jewelry box. He couldn’t satisfy his curiosity about the one, but he could the other.

“Any particular kind of chocolate?” he asked as he lined up a spectacular shot.

“No, just plain unadulterated chocolate. No nuts, no caramel, no nougat.” She grinned and arched a brow. “Just chocolate.”

Sam took the shot and instinctively knew this frame would be his favorite. That gently curved, innocently provocative smile combined with the come-hither brow was awesome. With effort, he swallowed. “That was a gorgeous shot.”

“Really?”

“Really. Tell me about something else that relaxes you.”

She gave him another cheeky grin. “Sorry, don’t know you well enough.”

Sam fired off a few more frames. Despite the whopping erection swelling out of his briefs, he’d finally hit the zone, wanted to keep the momentum. “Forget that you don’t know me. I’m getting some great stuff here.”

She tsked. “I’d hate for you to drop your camera again.”

Irritation rose. Click, click. “I won’t drop my camera again. Move to the other end of the couch.”

Delaney swung her legs around and did as she was told. Her breasts plumped against the arm of the couch. “Well, if you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.” Click, click, click.

She arched her back and a long stretch of leg peeked from a slit up the side of the gown. Another wicked grin played at the corners of her lips and her gaze once more made a slow head-to-toe inspection of his body. “Well, in that case…nothing relaxes me more than good hard orgasm…but those are really too few and too far between to be dependable. Not like chocolate. It always satisfies me.”

Sam stilled. A bead of sweat abruptly broke out on his upper lip and if he hadn’t caught himself, his camera most likely would have tumbled to the floor again. He’d expected her to tell him she liked to cross-stitch, or cuddle up with a good book.

She laughed out loud, a delighted chuckle that bubbled up her throat and hit a chord deep inside him. “Wow. I did it again. I shocked you.” She sounded so damned pleased with herself, it was all Sam could do not to laugh.

He grinned, felt a blush actually creep into his cheeks. He ducked his head and passed a hand slowly over his face. “Yes, you did.”

“I can’t believe I said that,” she marveled, suddenly embarrassed. Her cheeks pinkened adorably. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I’ve done a lot of things lately that have been totally out of character.”

“Well, save them for the next set,” Sam told her. “I’ve run out of film again. You’ve got one more outfit, right?”

Still smiling, she seemed lost in her own private thoughts. “Yeah, one more. I’ll be right back.”

One more. Thank God. Then she would leave and he wouldn’t have to worry about the “quickening”…or possibly ruining his perfectly good reputation for being a professional—or possibly his future—by sleeping with her.

If this torture session didn’t end soon, Sam didn’t know whether he’d be able to control himself. He’d been battling his exaggerated hormones for the past hour, and frankly he was beginning to suspect that this was simply a war he couldn’t win. But it was one he knew he couldn’t afford to lose.

DELANEY CHANGED INTO the final outfit, a blush satin baby doll teddy, as quickly as possible and didn’t allow herself the luxury of looking in the mirror. Her modesty would rear its ugly head again and she’d lose every bit of ground she’d managed to gain during this experience. She was still self-conscious of her body, but nothing like the claustrophobic sensation of dread that she usually suffered from.

Sam had kept her talking so much that she’d barely had time to notice what she was or wasn’t wearing. He’d drawn her out, made her say things that she’d never dreamed would come out of her mouth. Mortification burned her cheeks. An orgasm relaxed her? Where on earth had that come from? What had made her say that? Obviously, she’d tapped into some sort of repressed alter ego when she’d decided to embrace her feelings instead of repressing them. When she’d undergone an attitude adjustment.

And really, why not? What difference did what she said to this man make? Her dirty laundry had been aired to all and sundry for the past several years. What could she honestly say that would embarrass her anymore than what had already happened to her? When she looked at it that way, it was really rather liberating, Delaney decided with a small smile.

Besides, after today, she’d never see Sam Martelli again. The thought struck an odd pang of regret, but she squelched it determinedly. She could have him mail the photos to her. There would be absolutely no harm or repercussions for anything she did or said. She’d sworn off men, so what possible problem could arise out of a little harmless flirtation? Beyond today, what difference would it make?

None.