“And there’s something wrong with that? Believe me, if my grandmother was this talented, I’d encourage her to go for it. Why should she let her age stop her from doing what she wanted? Especially if she was talented enough to pull it off?”
Yeah, he probably shouldn’t be a part of this conversation. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
The older woman chuckled. “I suppose it would truly shock my family to see these in a magazine.” She clapped her hands. “That is the best reason of all.”
“So, you’ll agree to it? I can photograph these?” No mistaking the thread of hope in Zandra’s voice.
“Oh, very well.”
“Great.” Zandra grinned. “Let’s get started.”
A few minutes later, Blake found himself standing uncomfortably next to Zandra as she grabbed a pair of tongs. Yeah…if there was any way to artfully arrange a plate of chocolate penises, she’d find it.
Even now he was surprised Madame Pruissard had agreed to add these to the photo shoot. The older woman had certainly hesitated long enough. Then again, Zandra had given her every logical reason to use them in the shoot, hadn’t she?
Which was part of the reason Blake knew she was good at her job, with her attention to detail and unwillingness to take an initial “no” for an answer. “Good work back there, by the way.”
“Hmmm?” she murmured, not taking her eyes off the plate.
“Getting Madame Pruissard to agree to this.”
“Oh, right. Thanks.”
“You can be pretty stubborn when you’ve set your mind on something.”
“I prefer to think of it as determined.”
“Of course you do.”
Blake smiled to himself as he watched her nudge a chocolate penis with the side of the tongs. “And a perfectionist, too.”
“Blame my parents for that one.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. My parents insisted that I do things ‘right the first time’ for as far back as I can remember. Do you know what it’s like to organize your closet by type of clothing and color?”
“You’re kidding,” he said, remembering her clothes strewn from one end of the hotel room to the other—in less than twenty-four hours. “But you’re such a slob.”
“Thanks.” She grinned. “Anyway, by the time I started college, the expectations were pretty clear—which typically meant I was drilled with accounting scenarios every time I came home. All to make sure my work was perfect. After all, I’d be dealing with clients at their company, so that meant I had to be perfect.” She stood back and regarded her work. “Not that there was any pressure, of course.”
“There’s no pressure now, you know. With the chocolates,” he added at her puzzled expression. “Chocolates are pretty hard to mess up.”
“Yes, but getting the right shot does require how the subject is staged. There,” she said as she straightened. “Much better.”
“It is?” Too bad, because he sure enjoyed looking at her ass when she bent over. “Maybe you should move it off to the left a tad.” He tried to stop the grin from his face but failed miserably.
“Very funny.” The corner of her mouth twitched up like she was fighting a grin, too. “It’s perfect.”
He certainly wouldn’t argue. No doubt about it, Blake was an idiot. He shouldn’t be thinking stuff like that where Zandra was concerned. Even if she did have what looked like a firm, tight ass underneath jeans that hugged every delectable curve.
“Okay.” He turned then shook his head to clear it. He was here to do a job. Be her assistant, get her coffee, hold a light, whatever she needed. What she clearly did not need was him staring at her ass, let alone wanting to touch it.
“It could be worse, I suppose,” he said, not about to let it go. “You could have to make arrangements to get us transportation again. If a hearse showed up last time, there’s a fairly good chance we’d have to ride in a cart pulled by a bicycle or something.”
“Very funny.” Zandra’s gaze bore into his. Without breaking eye contact, she reached toward the plate and pulled off a chocolate penis then held it in front of her. “Look,” she said then promptly snapped it in half.
Blake shifted uncomfortably. She looked like she’d enjoyed that entirely too much.
“Oh, darn, it broke.” She grinned then bit off a tip.
“Was that supposed to be a threat of some sort?” Blake asked. “Kind of mobster-style or something?”
“You take it however you want. Just quit messing with me.” She took another bite of chocolate, the unmistakable snap sending a clear message.
“Got it.”
Blake knew they were just kidding each other, volleying words across the space between them. But just in case, he was sleeping with his hands over his balls tonight.
Chapter Fourteen
Blake glanced at the message on his phone. “Stefan’s about two hours away,” he told Zandra. His Swiss contact, a NATO officer who he’d served with, hadn’t asked any questions when Blake had called in the favor. It was one of the reasons he’d enjoyed his stint training NATO officers a few months ago. The contacts he’d made came in handy on occasions like this.
“I can’t believe the trains still aren’t running,” she said, adjusting her backpack.
“No telling when the tracks will be fixed.”
“It just wasn’t what I’d expected.” She blew out a deep breath.
“True, but how about we take advantage of the situation instead?”
“You’re right, I know. I was just hoping to edit some of the shots from today.” She squared her shoulders. “But there’s plenty of time to grab some lunch.”
They strolled along the edge of Lake Lucerne, where the water slapped against the concrete boardwalk, its rhythmic sounds a contrast to car engines, honking horns, and tourists chatting in various languages that created a cacophony around them.
He glanced at his travel companion. Excitement seemed to pour out of her, lighting her eyes when she turned to him with a grin. “I still can’t believe I’m here. Zandra version 2.0 is on her way.”
“Why do you call it that? It sounds weird—like you’re reconstructing yourself when there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“That’s just what I’ve been calling it. You know, since I left my practical job and took on this roll-of-the-dice one. Go ahead,” she continued with a nod of her head. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
“That you think it was a dumb idea, that I should do photography as a hobby and not try to feed myself with it, that most photographers, like authors, don’t make enough to pay for basic expenses, let alone be able to eat off their work. Go ahead. Believe me, I’ve heard it all from my parents.”
“Wow. Defensive much?”
“Sorry,” she breathed out a moment later. “I guess maybe I am a bit touchy about it.”
“Well, for the record, I don’t think that anymore.”
“Anymore?”
Did he really want to get into it with Zandra? Honesty couldn’t hurt. “I might’ve wondered why someone who was handed a huge leg up in life would walk away from it. But now…” He shook his head. “I don’t think that at all.”
She shot him a sideways glance like she didn’t quite believe him.
“It’s true. I was watching you there.” He thumbed the direction to the chocolate shop. “You’re very passionate about your work, and it’s clear that photography is in your heart. And that’s the life path you need to be on, not some accounting job that sucks your soul.” He looked around them. “Where are we going again?”
“Food. I’m hungry.”
“That’s what I thought, except you walked right past two restaurants without stopping.”
“Oh, well.” She pointed at one side of the lake. “I want to walk across Chapel Bridge first.”<
br />
The long, covered bridge beckoned, its original fourteenth-century woodwork destroyed by a twentieth-century fire and rebuilt shortly thereafter.
A motorcycle roared past, its slick chrome and shiny black metal a sharp contrast to the old bridge. “We can do that,” he said once the bike was a block away.
The bridge crossed over one side of Lake Lucerne and into one end of Petite France with its assortment of restaurants and hotels. Blake had visited the area once while on a long weekend but had taken the shorter pedestrian bridge that paralleled it farther inland.
Back then, he was more fascinated by the defensive wall that surrounded the city. Too bad there wasn’t enough time to walk it like he had before. The views of the Swiss Alps, with Lucerne in the foreground, were gorgeous.
“Let’s go,” Zandra said, indicating the light had changed.
They crossed with the other pedestrians and headed toward Chapel Bridge, beckoning like a light from the past and now crawling with tourists from all over the world, holding selfie-sticks and wide grins. It was the kind of scene Blake usually avoided, but there was something about experiencing this with Zandra that was almost…fun.
Before long, she had her camera out and pointed toward the Swiss Alps. “Majestic,” she breathed out, her voice barely audible.
He swallowed, and his heart lurched. She was so damned beautiful…
“Look at the swans,” she said, excitedly pointing to a pair that floated on the surface of the lake. “Aren’t they gorgeous?” She tilted her head to one side as she aimed her camera, exposing the side of her neck in a way that made him want to lean over and kiss it. Which was a crazily dizzying idea.
She caught his gaze. “Did you know that a swan will mate for life?”
Uh-oh. The walls shot up, thick and heavy as steel. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but Blake was used to a woman drawing conclusions from a first date. Not that this was a first date, or any kind of date, for that matter.
Shit. He needed to quit with the overthinking already. “That’s news to me.”
“It’s true.” She placed her elbows on the bridge rail, gazed out across the lake toward the surrounding Swiss Alps, while the lake cut into Lucerne and continued inland behind them. She sighed. “It’s so romantic.”
She dipped her head until she rested her chin on her hands. He wanted to reach out and touch her, maybe even gather her into his arms and hold her a moment…or twelve.
The ache was so strong, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans to stop himself. “Why are you telling me this?”
“No reason.” She turned just enough to capture his gaze. “Just an interesting factoid.” Then she raised her head and faced him, leaning a hip against the low bridge wall, her camera hanging from a strap around her neck. “Don’t tell me you’ve got some sort of a hang-up against swans or something.”
He shrugged. “Haven’t even given it a thought.”
She tilted her head to one side and adjusted her backpack. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m just making conversation.”
Probably true. It was also probably true that he was just being an overreactive asshole.
He trailed behind her as they walked in silence and admired the triangular panels adjoined to the slatted ceiling and painted with scenes of Lucerne’s history. All the while he snuck a peek in her direction, at the sway of her hips in jeans that hugged, at her profile when she stopped to snap a photo, at the sexy flick of her tongue.
There was something about Zandra now that made her so damned fascinating, like he had to fight the urge to be around her, like he had to continuously remind himself not to get too close, too emotionally attached, which he’d never had to do with any other woman before. Ever.
Had to be jet lag. That was the only logical explanation. Except Blake didn’t feel tired. On the contrary, he felt…energized. Getting up after a few hours rest was more than enough to carry him through the day and until they got back to Stuttgart tonight.
“Look at the architecture,” she said, pointing at the row of hotels and restaurants that lined Petite France. “Amazing. Switzerland is amazing.”
She sighed and glanced toward the umbrella-lined tables filled with patrons. “The people, the stores, the restaurants…it’s all amazing.” Then she stopped and caught his gaze. “Thank you for coming with me, Blake. I know you’d rather be back in Seattle, but I’m glad Jackson talked you into taking his place.”
What the hell should he say to that? A whole host of possibilities came to mind, all of them sappy, so he simply nodded. “Of course.”
They stopped outside a restaurant, smells wafting out and inviting passersby to open the door and waltz through to an amazing meal. “Not here,” Zandra said after studying the posted menu.
“Why not? Looks pretty good.” Although, honestly, he wasn’t a picky eater. Hadn’t ever been as far as he could remember. He hadn’t had that luxury.
“Too expensive.”
Well, if that was all… “I’ll buy.”
“Nope. We can do better.”
“Wow. You really are serious about this whole venture, aren’t you? The saving money part and all.”
“It means that much to me, so yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“Even if someone else offers to foot the bill?”
“Especially if someone else offers to foot the bill.” She slowed down until they walked side by side. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a good meal—”
“I could tell that last night. You practically licked the plate.”
“—but it’s sustenance, which pretty much means that if it’s edible, then I’m in.”
Wow. This was new. Most of the women he dated insisted on candlelit dinners at some fancy place like one of Seattle’s many restaurants on the water, or at least overlooking it.
“How about here?”
They stopped in front of a chocolate shop. “Weren’t we just at a chocolate shop? You know, the one with the”—he lowered his voice and leaned toward her—“naughty male parts?”
“You mean like the one I bit off?” A corner of her kissable mouth tipped up in a smile.
“You would have to mention that.” He stopped himself from putting his hands over his dick. “I figured you’d have gotten tired of the smell by now.”
“This one has regular food, too.” She held out her phone and the app that displayed a menu. “See?”
“You’re trusting another app? After the whole MOOV thing?”
“Hey, the hearse got us here, didn’t it? Besides, what are the chances this place will be bad? There’s a line out the door.”
“Good point.”
She pulled him by the arm. “C’mon, let’s check it out.”
A few minutes later, they left, packages in hand, and he’d done little more than nod at her animated choices. They sat at the edge of the lake and dangled sneaker-clad feet over the water.
Blake shrugged off his backpack and looped an arm through it. “So you’d rather eat sandwiches while sitting on cold concrete with tourists walking behind us than eat in the relative quiet of a restaurant?”
“It’s a nice day out, and we’re surrounded by the Swiss Alps. Why would we want to eat indoors?”
“Good point.”
“Besides, these are more than just sandwiches,” she continued as she handed him a package. “Freshly baked French bread filled with paté and cold cuts and marinated vegetables? I dare say this will be better than anything else we could choose at the moment.”
“I’m just surprised you wouldn’t want anything more…exotic.”
“Blake.” She leaned toward him. “This is exotic.” She swept an arm out. “And this view is unbelievably stunning. If I wasn’t starving, I’d be taking some photos now.”
“Considering you’re wearing your camera like an oversize necklace, I t
hink you’re pretty much ready to go.”
“Exactly.” She smiled. “I believe in being prepared.”
“Yeah? Like the Boy Scout motto?”
“I prefer to think of it as my motto.” She cleared her throat and pulled the wrapper off her sandwich. “Zandra 2.0 is prepared for any…eventuality…”
Blake raised an eyebrow. “Casual or otherwise?”
She caught his gaze. “Any eventuality,” she repeated.
He fought the grin, but it was really tough. Damn, he liked her. Really, really liked her.
Okay, so what was wrong with just riding this thing out, seeing where it went? After all, they were adults. So, yeah, Jackson was his best bud, but that didn’t mean he had to know everything. And even if Jackson approved, whatever happened couldn’t go very far. Blake had his eye on settling down in a quiet Seattle neighborhood, something that wasn’t in Zandra’s plan.
He was a smart guy. At least, he liked to think so. Hanging out with Zandra wasn’t something he’d done much of when he was in Seattle, and it wasn’t likely anything he’d do much of it when they returned. As long as he remembered to keep her in the friend zone, he was good.
“I wish Mom and Dad could see this,” she said. “They’d love the view. Too bad they’d never get on a plane to begin with.”
“Why is that? They’ve got the resources, owning their own business and all.”
“My mom’s a fatalist—the sky is always on the verge of falling, so she spends all her time in protection mode. Doesn’t matter what it is, she’s looking at all the ways something bad could happen, even if the statistical probability is small.” She grabbed her water bottle and twisted the cap off. “It’s a wonder she ever let Jackson or me leave the house.”
No kidding.
“But eventually, Jackson wore her down with all the stuff he’d pulled as a kid. So much so that when he decided to join the Army, she relented.” Zandra’s face twisted briefly. “And then all the attention was on me.”
“Sounds like things are rough between you and them,” he observed, biting into his sandwich.
“Not really. I mean, I love them and all, but they seem to make it their job to drive me nuts.”
Seduced by the Soldier Page 8