Picture Perfect Page 5

  I wanted to pretend like those few hours of my life had meant nothing and say, Shane who? But Greg was no dummy and I wasn’t a very good actress, so I’d skip the make believe. I was finding it irritating that Greg couldn’t drop that last shoot, though. I wanted to move on, put that all behind me, and he was forcing me to think about it more. I shook my head. “I didn’t know.”

  “Yeah, those pictures. You know, we did the ones outside—that was the one that had been requested. But it was the indoor shots I put on my website for purchase that got everyone’s attention. And they’re being snatched up like hotcakes. Shane’s become a bit of a hot commodity. Authors have been fawning all over the photos of the two of you, and based on their response to the new kid on the block, I did a couple of solo shots with him and paired him with a couple of other females, too.” He smiled. “There was a request for him to be on an M/M cover, but he’s not ready for that yet. It’s one of those mindset things, you know?” We stood in the middle of the space, but Greg started fiddling with one of the tall lights, adjusting the height and moving it to another position. “I have plenty of men who are willing to do that, so the authors’ll just have to settle.”

  Why was he telling me this? Yes, it was news to me, but why should I even care?

  “In fact, he’s finally hired an agent…so this’ll probably be my last shoot with him.”

  Okay…there it was. The big reveal. Why hadn’t I seen that one coming? “Wait…Shane’s the other model today?”

  Greg stood and cocked his head. “Yeah, I didn’t tell you that?”

  I felt my teeth clenching and I had to forcibly relax so I could answer. “Nope. You failed to mention that.”

  “Yeah—he specifically requested you for this shoot.”

  Good thing I hadn’t put my purse down.

  Or signed the paperwork yet.

  “Sorry, Greg. I’m going to have to pass.” For my sanity. For my heart. For what little dignity I had left.

  “Are you kidding, Ivy? Your chance to work with someone—”

  I felt the venom rising and I wanted to spit it right at him. He was getting ready to talk about Shane’s sudden fame and ask why I didn’t want a part of that. Obviously, those same people who’d seen Shane had seen me, too, and they weren’t going nuts over me—and that was fine. But Greg seemed to forget that I was only in this for the money—and it wasn’t a permanent thing. Once I’d defended my dissertation and found my way into my dream job, this pay-the-bills one would be a thing of the past.

  I stuck my finger out, letting Greg know his arguments wouldn’t be effective. “Sorry. If I’d known, I would have told you no earlier.” I turned on my heel and began walking toward the front.

  “What if I doubled your usual fee?” I hesitated then. He was offering me an obscene amount of money and had already promised I could leave my bra on. I would be an idiot to pass that one up. And he knew it, based on how I’d stopped in my tracks.

  I couldn’t say no. Not yet. Not with double the money and a guarantee of nothing compromising. My nest egg had been growing considerably over the past year, enough that I knew my student loans wouldn’t be a concern as long as I kept up the earning pace. So I turned around and decided to just get it over with. I’d sign the damn paper, feeling like I was giving up my soul, but I’d just do it. I walked to the table and found the contract with my information already printed in the blanks. Greg smiled and pulled it toward himself before I could touch it, scratching out the amount written for payment and doubling it, writing his initials beside the number. He then signed at the bottom before sliding it back to me, holding the pen toward me until I took it. As I scrawled my name on the other line, self-loathing simmering in my chest, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I let out a long sigh as I set the pen down and asked, “Why Shane?” I wanted to follow it up with Why not any other guy? After all, I’d had plenty of shoots with lots of other men and had always managed to keep my cool; in fact, a good many of them I hadn’t even had to work at maintaining my composure. Shane, though…and maybe part of it was because he’d been new. He hadn’t known how to act.

  Ah, but I couldn’t blame it all on him. I, too, had my part in all that shit.

  But that was all processing in the back of my brain while I looked at Greg, waiting for an answer. But the reply came from behind me instead of from Greg. “Because I requested you.”

  I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. I knew that voice. It was a lovely tenor timbre, one that made a variety of emotions charge through every fiber of my body in a matter of seconds. The animal part of me felt hungry in so many ways—lustful, yes, but also angry to my core, ready to rip that man apart. If anyone had asked me the day before how I felt about Shane Sanders, I would have given them what I’d have thought was an honest answer—hot guy, but kind of a jerk. Deep down, I knew I’d felt some weird unspoken connection with him, but I’d since attributed that to desire and being put in an unnatural situation. I was beginning to feel the same kind of love/ hate for modeling as well. Six months ago, I would have said it was the best thing that had happened to me but now…now I felt like Daniel Webster’s farmer. Did that make Greg the Devil? It would explain why I felt like I’d completely sold out.

  I had. And now I was paying for it.

  I didn’t turn to look at him. My brain was instead processing a hundred questions all at once. Why? That was the main one. Why me? Why couldn’t he just let me bury that part of my past, forget it, and move on?

  But there was also one question for myself: Why did a part of me feel warm and special—satisfied, even, that Shane had chosen me over any other woman he could model with?

  I was not going to have that conversation in front of Greg. After the shoot, we could either hash it out on the sidewalk or I could invite Shane for coffee this time—for real coffee in a coffee shop—and we could discuss what had happened. Part of me wanted to know how he’d grappled with what had happened, because I’d felt terrible guilt and shame—in fact, it was lingering now and I wouldn’t have known that until this moment.

  For now, though, I was going to be professional. I wasn’t going to air our dirty laundry in front of Greg. As I turned to face Shane for the first time in months—for the first time since I’d stormed out of his apartment—I forced myself to be cool and calm. Cold even. I had to shut off all emotion, or I’d never survive this shoot. Inside, I was a boiling cauldron, a raging volcano simmering, ready to erupt.

  But I couldn’t let either of these men know it.

  I took a deep breath as I pivoted my body, and I allowed my eyes to meet his. Ah, they were still the most beautiful shade of verdant green I’d ever seen in a man’s face. And his skin was darker now, no doubt thanks to the summer sun. His facial hair was gone, and I never would have guessed how much hotter it would make him look.

  Dammit.

  I was already feeling my cold outer shell thawing and I had to resolve to keep it that way. When I heard the pitch of the words that exited my mouth, I knew I was at least doing a good job acting icy. “Then I suppose thanks are in order.” I nodded, hoping the gesture alone would serve as my gratitude. More than ever, I realized I just had to get this over with and consider it another lesson learned. Next time Greg called me up for a shoot, I either had to turn him down or ask if I was modeling with someone else and, if so, what that person’s name was. For now, though, the ink was dry and I had to tough it out.

  Acting was a huge part of modeling. I could do this.

  Shane, with a matter-of-fact tone in his voice, said, “We look good together.” He sauntered over to the table and I backed away a bit. I’d have to be up close to him soon enough. His eyes were on the paper when he added, “I don’t know if Greg told you, but the modeling career has taken off for me…taken me in some incredible places.” He turned then, looking me directly in the eyes, and I realized then that I was still too close. I could feel a magnetic draw to him, but I kept my walls up. “Since there are lots of eyes on me right now, I tho
ught I could get attention on you if we posed together again.”

  Oh, thank you, Shane, for giving me that ammo. I needed a toehold to fight up and over this mountain, and he’d just provided it. “I don’t plan to model for the rest of my life. Once I finish grad school, I won’t be in front of a camera again.”

  Shane, however, was unfazed. “But why, Ivy? You look so damn good.” He lowered his voice and, for a split second, I forgot Greg was there…even forgot I was angry with this man. “You’re beautiful. And someone like you the world loves to look at. It’d be a damn shame for you to give that up.”

  But then I realized he was just a flatterer. He was getting under my skin—the last thing I needed today. I had to regain my composure—and fast. “I have a hell of lot more to offer the world with my brain. I’d much rather help students unlock their potential and view the world differently. Beauty fades, and I know I’m not going to look like this in thirty years. And thirty years from now, the photos I’m in won’t matter anymore—but the good I do in the classroom could persist for a lifetime…or more.” Oh. The dreamer in me had emerged—the young idealistic girl who’d wanted to teach from the moment it had entered her head as a kid. The vision had remained and, as an undergrad, I’d seen the potential, thanks to some inspirational professors instilling hope and passion inside me. That enthusiasm had long since faded, thanks to bills and deadlines and figuring out how to make it in life, but it was still in there. I’d had no idea. And it was that feeling that propelled me to do what was necessary to get through the day.

  Shane shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  I refrained from frowning. Based on his reaction, he was playing calm and collected, too. Good. That would make things much easier. “So what first, Greg? What do you need?” He hadn’t told me any specific clothing to wear, so I’d just assumed it was an underwear shoot. I was wearing a lacy red Victoria’s Secret bra-and-panty set, something I’d owned for a while. I hadn’t bought anything new for Greg’s photo shoots in some time, but this was one I hadn’t worn for him, so it was good enough.

  Probably a mistake, though, now that I knew who my partner would be.

  “Let’s just say the photos of the two of you are now bestsellers. And the ones that only show the bottom half of your faces seem to sell better than any other photos I have. The black-and-white versions sell even better than the color ones.” Well, that explained his willingness to pay extra.

  But I was more than happy to communicate my displeasure. “Then let’s get it over with.” Two hours with a hot but lying, cheating bastard and a money-grubbing photographer weren’t my idea of fun.

  “All right. I want to start with a few shots up against the wall over there.” I glanced over to the corner he indicated and saw that he already had lights set up. As Shane and I moved over there, I felt grateful that I wasn’t being forced to think. Just do. That was good. Keep me in motion; keep barking orders, and I’ll do all right.

  The shots he did there were pretty generic. My back pressed against the wall, Shane and I had to look like we were in various states of passion. Fortunately, there was no actual kissing and only a little bit of eye contact. There was a lot of his lips on my neck.

  And I felt a twitch. Dammit.

  But then, just as I felt my resolve start to waver, Greg announced that we were moving on and, at that point, it was shirts off. To make a statement, I walked over to the changing area and stepped behind the screen. Silly, yes, but feeling vulnerable once more, I wanted the few moments of privacy. That minute while I unbuttoned my blouse was the perfect opportunity for my brain to relive the shame and humility I’d felt when Shane had revealed his secret. Not good. I needed to be emotionless for this, not wracked with guilt and negativity.

  I had to shut that part of myself off. If that shit showed on my face, this shoot would be a disaster. So the last few seconds before I entered the room partially exposed I used to psyche myself up, much like I imagined an MMA fighter would do before what he knew would be a particularly brutal fight. A couple of deep breaths, finding my resolve, putting on my game face, and I was good to go.

  The two hours went quickly but not with ease. It began again with a lot of close shots against a white background where our bodies touched, often not even leaving an inch between us. Whether we were facing each other or Shane was behind me holding me possessively (with various poses of his hand on my jaw, my neck, my belly, my breast, and the waistband of my jeans), we were close. The worst part near the end of that first stretch was when Shane was pressed up behind me, his hand on my jaw, his chin pressing against my face. His other hand was wrapped around my waist and damn it all to hell if that didn’t make me start feeling a little warm.

  His hard body once more felt like it was made for me.

  What did it was feeling his breath against my skin. Its warmth made my muscles tighten. Not good. Not good at all.

  Just as I was sensing my inner strength weaken, Greg had us switch positions again. He had us move to the area of the room where he had the queen-size bed. At first, the poses weren’t bad. He had me take off my jeans (and I considered making a statement and running over to the screen again, instead opting to get it over with), and then he had Shane lie on the bed. He was propped up on a couple of pillows and I straddled him, per Greg’s request. I was still doing okay keeping myself in check, once more in control. But as we shifted and adjusted, mostly with Shane’s hand in various places on my back, I felt myself grow heated again.

  What the hell was it about this man that fueled my fire?

  My emotions swirling once more, Greg then had me lie on my back. He had Shane flip over and cozy up next to me, his arm around my waist, and we were to act like we were kissing. Greg adjusted the tripod and even got on a ladder, looking for the right angle and then, like a Hollywood director, he barked, “Action!” If I hadn’t been struggling so hard, I might have laughed.

  But this was no laughing matter.

  And, again, the problem with Shane was he wasn’t about to fake his kissing. Instead, it was like on a first date—a small couple of feathery kisses followed by a tentative touch of the tongue to my lips. There was no way I couldn’t respond. The kisses never grew deep but they were real, and my body—my brain, even—couldn’t help but react.

  Yes, I kissed him back.

  Slow, luxurious, tempting…I remembered the flavor of his mouth, and it made my pussy clench.

  Just when it felt as though we might move into more dangerous territory—that of roaming hands and tongues—Greg said, “Great. Now we need to move to the bench.”

  I’d never used the bench before. It was white and maybe a yard long, and Greg had it positioned up against a screen. Shane sat on the bench and Greg had me straddle Shane. Once more, we had to get all snuggly and touchy. Fortunately, it was pre-kissing and not the actual deed, but Greg had me put my hands on Shane’s jaw and neck and our mouths were mere millimeters from touching.

  I knew we were nearing the end of the shoot, and I thought maybe we were done—with just enough time for me to save myself, because much longer and I’d be ready to spread my legs for this man again.

  Unfortunately, that was exactly what Greg had in mind. We went back where we’d started, and Greg wanted my back against the wall again, but now that I was in nothing but underwear and Shane was shirtless, there was one final shot Greg wanted. He asked Shane to undo the button and zipper on his jeans enough that he could pull them down a bit—so it would look like we were engaged in sex or pretty damn close. The lights now were dimmer than usual—why, I didn’t know—but it added to the mood.

  Oh, so not good.

  We got into position—my ass hanging on the edge of a narrow table, Shane up close to me—while Greg barked out orders about how we needed to move because the shot wasn’t quite working from the backside where he was standing. It was a little awkward but getting a whiff of Shane’s cologne, my legs and arms wrapped around him was taking its toll.

  My brain might
not have wanted it, but my body remembered—and it wanted more. In that compromising, intimate position, that was all I wanted.

  At last, Greg began his usual barrage of orders as he snapped one photo and then the next but then he cursed, muttering something about camera issues. “One moment. Hold your position.”

  I wouldn’t let myself look up at Shane, instead focusing on his Adam’s apple. In my head, I could hear my mother’s old mantra, her voice uttering an old adage for whenever times got tough: This too shall pass.

  Yes, it would, but what would I be like after passing through the fire once more?

  Shane’s low voice—quiet so it was just for me—interrupted my thoughts. And it had the added effect of drawing my eyes to his. “A tad awkward.” I couldn’t help but give him an abbreviated chuckle and nodded. I was still smiling when he said, his eyes laser focused on mine, “I broke up with my girlfriend.”

  There went the air from my lungs. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? Congratulations? But some words tumbled out of my mouth without much thought. “Good for you—and her. She deserves a man who wants to be with her.”

  The light in his eyes faded and he grew serious. “Yeah, she does. I know you might not believe it, Ivy, but you were a symbol. A symbol of the new life I was craving, the new life I needed. Harper was part of the old. She represented everything I wanted to escape from. It was nothing against her. She’s really a sweet girl—and she does deserve someone more like her.”

  What the hell was all that drivel even supposed to mean? I was still angry with him and his words felt like bullshit. But I couldn’t call him on it because Greg started snapping at us again. “All right, guys. Now, from here, I’m not believing it. You just look like two models who posed like that because I told them to. I need to believe you’re either fucking or getting ready to.”