Dawn Atkins - Don't Tempt Me…

“No more, though,” she said. “I’m not letting life trickle through my fingers. I intend to splash around, make big, messy waves that practically drown me.”

She realized Rick was watching her closely. Almost as if he were taking mental notes on her. Unnerving. And flattering, too. “What kind of waves are you interested in making?” he asked.

Sexy waves that peaked and crashed and climaxed, of course, but she couldn’t say that. “With my work, for one thing. And my personal life, too.”

“If your personal life’s anything like your work…wow.” His moss-green eyes heated to a sparkling emerald. He was hinting, but she couldn’t quite read his intentions.

How should she respond? Yeah, baby, I wear out my men like paper plates. Wanna be next? But that was way over the falls.

“Yeah. Well…these things take time. I only started taking boudoir shots six months ago.”

“Sure.” He paused, taking in her answer. “So how’d you get into that?”

She was relieved he was going with chitchat. “Boudoir work? Or photography? I always loved taking pictures. Begged for a thirty-five-millimeter for Christmas when I was seven and after that spent all my allowance on film and developing. Puzzled the hell out of my parents.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“They thought getting in people’s faces was too pushy. When I won awards in high school, they were impressed, but bewildered.” It had broken her heart that they were so lukewarm about her passion. “How about you? How’d you get started?”

“I was young, too. When my pop would go hunting, I’d tag along to shoot pictures. He thought it was peculiar, but he liked the company when my older brother was too busy.” He was quiet for a minute and crushed the boxes he’d emptied, sending his wintry scent to her on a puff of air.

“So when did you go professional?” she asked, hanging up a black satin underwear set.

“I fell into it. Needed money, saw an ad in a magazine. Put myself out there and assignments came my way. How about you?”

“It was a hobby until late in college.” She put a white satin ensemble on the rack. “I thought I’d be a psychologist or social worker, until I took this portrait-photography class on a lark and it was like lightning and thunder striking at the same time. It was a way to combine my curiosity about people with my interest in art. I was absolutely electrified by the idea. I never looked back.”

“I can see that.” I see you. He had an unnerving way of pulling her in tight. Nice, really, and it made her feel like they’d known each other longer than the couple of hours that had passed since he’d shown up at her counter. “Photography can take hold of you for sure,” he added.

“You love it, too, huh?”

“Half the time when I was freelancing, I’d forget to bill the magazine.” He smiled wistfully.

“It shows. Your work is remarkable. That vulture shot…”

“Yeah. I waited all day for that one.”

“All day? That would kill me.”

“That’s how it is with wildlife. You have to be patient. You have to know the animal’s habits and you have to be willing to wait.”

“That’s positively brutal. And unpredictable. I like to plan out a shot, get everything just so, full control.”

“But what about the surprise factor? You know the shot at Canyon de Chelly?”

“With the surreal blue sky and gold light?”

“Yeah. For that my batteries were almost drained and I had one frame, but the scene stopped me dead. That one ran in Arizona Highways.”

“I’m not surprised.”

He gave her an unguarded grin of pride. “I was lucky.”

“No. When you’re good, you make your luck.”

They looked at each other, connected by the shared love of taking pictures. She’d never dated a photographer before. Interesting….

You can’t date him. You hired him.

“So, how did you get into sex shots?” This question came out a little hard and startled her.

“Boudoir shots,” she corrected. “Or intimate photos. If you’re going to work with me you need to use the right vocabulary.”

“Sure. Do people ever ask for something more?”

“You mean like Joey? He was ready to strip, huh?” She started to laugh, but he interrupted her.

“I mean more graphic.” His eyes dug in, diamond-sharp with focus, and she felt stung.

“You mean, do I shoot porn?” Angry, she slid her locket back and forth hard on its chain. It was bad enough she got those awful calls, now her new employee was asking her the question. “Absolutely not. I believe the human body is beautiful. Sex, too. And I won’t exploit either one. I would think that you would already get that. And let me add that if that’s what you’re looking for, then—”

“Sorry. No. That’s not what I want. And I get it. I’m sorry I asked.”

He wore the strangest expression, as if she’d just passed some test she didn’t know she’d been given. He looked relieved.

So strange. He’d insulted her and he was relieved she’d snapped at him.

Worse, she was glad. She wanted him to like her. Part of her wanted to slip into a comfortable intimacy with this man. Part of her held back, sensing there was something he wasn’t telling her that she needed to know.

And the rest of her just plain wanted him.

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