Synithia Williams - A New York Kind Of Love

In his mind he let out an appreciative whistle. This was not the reserved woman from the picture, not with that smile. It was what he noticed first. She had the brightest, most beautiful smile he’d ever seen on a woman. Then there were her legs: long, shapely and enticing in the short denim shorts. The lavender shirt showed off toned arms and looked good against the red undertones in her skin. Her dark, thick hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

Coming from the UK, he’d never understood the girl-next-door thing that American men went for, at least not until this moment. This woman made him think of barbecues, bike riding and picnics. All that down-home stuff Hollywood portrayed in their good ole American films.

He slowly stood and grinned. The weekend wasn’t going to be as bad as he had originally thought. He’d still stick with the “look but don’t touch” approach, but at least this woman was nice to look at.

She stopped talking and turned his way. The smile on her face froze, then became stiff around the edges. She took a deep breath and just watched him for what felt like hours, but was probably just a few seconds. He waited for the excitement, frantic fanning, shriek of joy and tears. He was usually good for a tear or two.

They never came. Instead, she calmly walked over and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Irvin.”

That accent... Hers was a slow, husky drawl that wrapped around him and made him want to hear it whisper his name. He normally didn’t care much for Southern accents, but he could listen to hers all night.

He took her hand in his. “The pleasure is all mine.”

She swallowed and gave a short nod before pulling her hand back. She rubbed it across her shorts then stuck both hands in her back pockets. “I appreciate you saying that. I’m sure this is kind of an imposition on you.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it were. I’m always excited to find new ways to raise money for alcohol awareness.”

She nodded, but the look on her face said she didn’t quite believe him. “I guess it’s time for my total transformation.”

At that moment, Rafael came out of his office. To see him on the street, no one would guess that Rafael was a famous photographer. His curly hair, thick square glasses and unassuming white shirt and gray khakis didn’t set him apart from any other guy in his midthirties.

“Is this our winner?” Rafael asked in a loud, excited voice. He took both of Faith’s hands in his and held them out. “We don’t have much work to do with you. Look at those legs and that smile. You’ve got the cutest face, my dear.”

From the way she glanced around, Irvin wondered if she was uncomfortable with the praise.

“That’s very sweet coming from a man who photographs women far more glamorous than me.”

“Glamour is a mirage. A mirage that I create,” Rafael said, placing one of his hands on his chest. “The lens can make the meanest person look like a saint when it’s in the right hands, and my dear, I’ve got the right hands.”

Faith smiled, and Irvin was blown away by how cute she was. “The right hands and a way with words.”

Rafael laughed, then snapped his fingers for Tina to come over. “If you think I’m good with words, wait until you see these pictures. Now on to hair and makeup.”

“Not too much makeup,” Irvin said.

Faith and Rafael looked at him with varying degrees of surprise. Though Rafael’s look was tinged with a bit of curiosity. Irvin was not a makeup expert, but he had a feeling too much would only take away from her charm.

“Irvin has spoken,” Rafael said. “Not too much makeup.” Rafael and Tina ushered Faith to the dressing room.

“What do you think?” Kitty asked as Faith and Rafael disappeared.

“I like,” he said.

“Good. She’s a bit reserved. I still can’t get a read on her, but I’ll figure out what makes her tick.”

He knew what that meant. He pointed at Kitty. “No more digging. She’s here and she seems normal.”

“Normal is a mirage,” Kitty said, waving her hands in an imitation of Rafael that made Irvin laugh.

Several minutes later, Faith was back with her hair out of the ponytail and framing her face in a sleek bob that gently curled below her chin. They’d replaced the sleeveless lavender T-shirt with a sparkling yellow tank top and followed his instruction to not put too much makeup on her. Only enough to enhance her rounded cheeks, brown eyes and full lips.

“I’ll start with pictures of you. Then we’ll move on to both of you,” Rafael said. He led Faith over to the gray backdrop where they’d pose for the shoot.

“What am I supposed to do?” Faith asked.

“Be your sweet Southern self, my dear,” Rafael said with a wave of his hand. “Where are you from, again?”

“South Carolina. Laurel County.”

“Hmm, I’ve been to North Carolina. Had a shoot in Charlotte once.” Rafael started snapping pictures.

Faith gave him a tight smile. “That’s not very close to where I’m from.”

“Either way, relax, my dear. Just be yourself.”

She glanced around at the background with barely concealed panic.

Irvin hurried over to her side. “Why don’t we start with both of us?” He took her hand. Her palm was slick. She was more nervous than she let on.

Her eyes widened and she tried to jerk her hand away. He held on more tightly and pulled her closer to his side. “Relax.”

Her hand flexed in his, and she cut her eyes toward Rafael snapping away. “Easier said than done. You weren’t hustled from a plane to a photo shoot without a chance to breathe.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Just a bit.”

He gave her his lady-killer smile. “Don’t be. I don’t bite.”

A frown came across her features before she lifted her chin. “That’s good to know, but it’s not why I’m nervous. I know I just have a few scheduled appearances with you, which is how I prefer it.”

She slid her hand away and wiped it on the leg of her shorts. How she preferred it? He hadn’t had a woman say she preferred spending minimal time with him since he’d left London. He started to ask why when it hit him. He’d had women try to play the reverse-psychology thing on him before. Pretend disinterest in hopes of gaining his attention. Several years ago he’d done a film in which the leading lady’s character used that dishonest tactic to win over the heart of the politician he’d played. Ever since, women tried it with him constantly. Thinking she would do that was surprisingly disappointing.

“So let me guess. You entered the contest to spend a weekend with me, but are hoping to limit our time together. Not secretly hoping that something would happen between us.”

Her incredulous look was almost believable. “You’ve got to be kidding. Do you really think I’d want to add my name to the list of forgettable women you sleep with?”

Rafael snapped faster. “Closer, my dears. You’re happy about this weekend.”

Irvin wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. She smelled good, a light flowery fragrance. And her body fit nicely with his. A fact he wished he wasn’t so acutely aware of.

“Are you accusing me,” he said through his fake smile for the camera, “of planning to seduce the winner of this contest?”

She was stiff beside him, but she relaxed and pasted on her own smile when Rafael ordered her to look happy. “Honestly, the thought never crossed my mind that you’d try to seduce me. Though I doubt you’d turn down sex if I offered.”

He turned to face her, almost entertained by her attempt to throw the offer out there in a backhanded way. “Oh, really. Please tell me why you think I’d take you to bed.”