Eve Devon - It’s In His Kiss

‘Okay. Well, given that I never ask guests to bring their own coffee, shall we go into the kitchen and I’ll make us a fresh batch. We can talk.’

‘Talk?’ Sephy asked.

‘Catch ourselves up.’ Tell her about his family situation, he thought, deliberately ignoring the flash flood of trepidation he felt.

‘Oh. Okay. Good idea. We could do the house stuff first and the other stuff…after.’

‘Drop the bags here, then, and we’ll take them up to my bedroom later.’

‘Bedroom?’ Suspicion hit her huge brown eyes.

‘You can get changed up there and I’ve got full-length mirrors. I thought you’d want to see –’

‘Of course. That’s fine. So are you going to show me this kitchen of yours, then?’

Luke stepped to the side and gestured for her to precede him into the room off to the right.

They were friends who were helping each other out.

That was all.

So they’d talk, have a little lunch and then by the time it came to ‘practice’ they would both feel more like what they were doing really wasn’t such a big deal.

Which it wasn’t , he counselled.

He couldn’t help wishing he had never thought practicing first would be a good idea, though. In his mind he had associated non-professional models with awkwardness and that, coupled with the very real worry he was going to feel as if the photographer was exposing his soul for others to gawk at, or something, had him suggesting rehearsing. But now he wished for the sterile white lights of the photographer’s studio. The flash and noise of photographer and camera. Keeping it all professional would have had the distancing effect that it turned out he really needed.

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