by Arden, Susan
Photo shoots were quiet, and his best work was done behind the scenes capturing the essence of what was present.
He moved up to the receptionist’s desk and stopped. He sniffed the air and looked around. The vaguely familiar scent aroused his imagination.
“May I help you?” The woman behind the desk peered up at him from behind thick glasses. Her unwavering stare reminded him of his third grade teacher.
“Absolutely. I’m here to see Ms. Cainwright.”
“Mr. Graham?” she asked. “We’ve been waiting. Ms. Cainwright’s assistant will be right up.”
He walked over toward the fountain, and saw an older woman wave coming toward him.
“Good morning, Mr. Graham. I’m Marcia. Ms. Cainwright will be right with you. I’ll show you to her offices where Mr. Cainwright would like the photographs taken. I imagine you’ve some set-up to do prior.”
“A bit,” Rob agreed.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, down a wide hallway that was done in equally muted colors and lighting.
“Right in here.” She halted before a set of double doors. “This is Sam’s office.”
He was confused. “Sam?”
“Oh, yes. Cynthia Cainwright goes by the name Sam, Mr. Cainwright’s daughter’s nickname since she was a tot. We’re immensely proud of our new vice president.” She smiled broadly, opening the door, and he followed her inside. A panel of glass spread out in front of a magnificent view of Biscayne Bay.
“Sam will be right in.”
Sam. A male moniker. Rob almost snorted out loud. This ought to be rich.
He wondered if they should find a place with more shadows to help diffuse whatever photo challenges lay ahead.
“Would you like something to drink? Coffee or soda or tea?”
“If it’s not too much trouble, coffee would be great. Black.”
“Certainly. It’s no problem.”
Rob paused as she walked over to the side of the office and slid a panel back, revealing a kitchenette. He took out his light monitor, flicking his wrist from side to side. The clinking of a cup on a saucer got his attention. He reached for the cup, filled with steaming liquid painkiller as far as he was concerned.
“The pot is right over there. Help yourself. We seem to orbit within our own galaxies, little time and so much to do. If you need anything, I’m in the office next door. “
“Great. I’ve got everything so far.”
After she disappeared from the room, Rob faced the wide expanse of glass. Shit, the timing would have been great if he wasn’t photographing a woman who went by Sam. Cainwright hadn’t mentioned anything about his daughter requiring special photographic touchups. Christ, who would?
His eye caught the various framed degrees and awards on the wall, all indications of another Cainwright success. Sam Cainwright had done well in business school, apparently immersed herself in her Ivy League education and had come out on top. Sam Cainwright, huh?
Not unusual, considering her father didn’t have a son to follow in his footsteps. Why not have a woman to take over if she was willing. It made sense now. Wanting to capture his successor at the helm, the older Cainwright was laying the foundation. That’s what this layout encompassed. Not art but a tool for World Travel, and Cainwright’s public relations and marketing department to use in promoting his empire.
And Rob was well versed in capturing marketing moments for World Travel. Too experienced. He’d given up attempting to make a living within the artistic realm of photography. No, he’d learned to enjoy the eating realm and being able to pay bills, both of which out-trumped artistic awards any day of the week. A couple of years ago, he’d put away his motorcycle and opted for a better ride. Now, living by the beach, owning a place he called home, and traveling more days out of the week than being at home. Well, life as a shark had sacrifices as well as benefits.
He set up his tripods and changed the lenses on each of the three cameras. The lighting was excellent, and he’d have a good hour or two to capture it, considering the time of day. Then again, that depended on what he needed to hide insofar as imaging. He wasn’t about to take any chances, so he marked areas where shadows could be beneficial and set up additional lighting just in case. He decided he might have to depend on black and whites or long shots to make Mr. Cainwright’s daughter as marketable as her father had proved.
Rob excelled at digital editing, but he’d mastered the ability to focus sharply down to an eyelash. He held his camera up to get a feel for where’d start. Behind him, he heard a voice at the door.
“Well, hello.” A low feminine laugh mingled with velvety spoken words crawled up his spine. “Sorry. I’m running late.”
He swung around, wondering if Ms. Cainwright had a visitor. The woman from downstairs glided into the office, carrying a computer tablet.
“I’m glad to know I’m not the only one running late this morning,” he said evenly as he set up a tripod across the room.
She continued on a path to her desk. “I had an offsite meeting this morning, but when I called Marcia, she told me you hadn’t shown up yet. I guess I could say I arrived before you, so that’s something.” The flirty curl of her lips told him she could have charmed a snake; she was certainly charming his with every word she spoke.
“Only by virtue of two elevator doors closing in my face.” He turned to face his client and took his time to admire the way she gracefully moved. Jesus, within the confined space she’s even more breathtaking. He had to stop himself from approaching her.
“Sorry. The doors closed so quickly.” She rearranged some papers on her desk, and her expression changed for a second. “I don’t know if I’m ready for any close-ups. I’m what most people deem camera scared.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead before stepping away from her desk.
“It’s my job to make you relax. Let me worry about shots. You just need to breathe and follow a few of my directions.”
She laughed that same laugh from the elevator, as if she was laughing to herself.
A tightening of Rob’s belly jabbed him. God, he could imagine her taking all sorts of directions beginning with, unbutton that top.
She shifted her eyes, sensational eyes, and their gazes locked. She faltered, and her expression wavered.
Rob inexplicably took a step closer, and a heat wave seemed to overtake the room—or at least his head. He forced himself to stop staring at her; especially her moist mouth, pink as a rose petal. The sudden urge to bite her bottom lip prickled his imagination. If she tasted as good as she smelled, with her sexier than hell looks, Moses that would be a kiss for the record books.
Her arched brow signaled that she’d noticed him staring. “Is everything all right?”
“Perfect. I was considering your angles.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean photographically. Good to meet you, Ms. Cainwright. I’m Rob Graham.”
“Nice to make your acquaintance. Call me Sam.”
Jesus, but she was beautiful. Too beautiful to go by a name like Sam.
Her dark eyes flicked over at him, and she folded her perfectly manicured hands together. “Where would you like me?”
Under me. On me. There was no way to answer truthfully, so he opted for rechecking the lighting. “Let me get some readings, and then we’ll be ready to roll.”
He held the meter up near her face. From what he could tell, her only cosmetic enhancement was an alluring fragrance. Her eyes weren’t really dark, but a mesmerizing hazel mixture of blue-green-amber flecks that reflected the sunlight. A sprinkling of freckles played upon the bridge of her nose, making her seem much, much younger than a graduate student.
She licked her lips, and in that second, he realized that he had two choices: to get this job done as quickly as possible and run for the closest elevator. Or risk his future relations with World Travel. What he had in mind for Sam would have her old man hunting him down with a vengeance.
With no way to accomplish
both, he gripped his meter, deciding he’d better step away and take his primal urges down a notch.
“For the photo layout, I’ll need to get a feel of you, in your position. What are you the vice president of?” He clenched his jaw as he struggled to get his semi-hard shaft to simmer down. Way down.
“Acquisitions and mergers.” She grimaced. “Just a fancy way of saying I shop with lots of money. I’m sure I’m supposed to do something productive around here, but I have yet to determine what. So far, all I’ve done has been to sit in meetings and listen.”
“Let’s start with a shot of you at your desk. Instead of sitting behind it, why not take possession and sit on the corner? I’d like to get some of you leaning up against the glass, because I think I can catch your reflection for a dramatic shot as though you’re looking out toward the future. Do you wear glasses?”
“I do, but I’ve got contacts in today.” A weary smile played upon her lips. “My father says my glasses make me look like a bookworm. Frankly, I’d rather be reading. What about you? Darkroom, I bet.”
“Neither. Laptop, alone at home.”
Clearly, she hadn’t a clue of the captivating picture she made when she smiled.
“Anyway, back to you. I believe they might give you an air of authority. You are rather…new.” He meant young, and from what he could tell and what she had said, she was relatively inexperienced. From what he gathered, she hadn’t been flirting as he’d assumed at the elevator. No. This girl pretty much said whatever popped into her gorgeous head. “If you’ve got them with you, we can use them as a prop. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve used them.”
It was somewhat of a lie, but he didn’t need an argument from a woman who would one day inherit the building in which they stood. So far, she didn’t seem to know or care about the requirements of her job. Or that she could wrap a man around her finger in less than sixty seconds.
“Fine. I’ve never done this before. I can tell you, I stink at eye contact with a camera staring down at me. Whatever you can do to make this as painless as possible and satisfy my father, is appreciated.” Her voice went gravelly. Sexy and low, with a hint of frustration.
She stood with her arms crossed, pushing her breasts upward, and he tore his gaze away before it became obvious the direction his gaze kept following. “Not to worry. Let’s start with you at the corner of your desk.”
“What should I do?” she asked, smiling shyly.
“Just take a moment, and arrange the things on your desk. Tell me about your life while I get a feel for how you come across from this side of the camera.” Bloody lies, he spewed, and any second he expected to be called on being the biggest lying liar of all times. He only wanted to stare at her, hard enough to remove her clothes if it were possible.
Hell, with a body and face like hers shouldn’t she be married or locked away somewhere? Safe from corporate wolves. Rethinking her mode of dress might help. He began snapping shots to stop his outright gawking.
She stopped in front of her desk leaning over to move a paper tray and began telling him about her life. “I never thought I’d end up here. In an office like this. Never. That ever happen to you? Life taking a complete swerve, off-track.”
“Every day,” he muttered. “Starting at about six in the morning.”
In retrospect, he doubted anything other than a barrel could hide her body. He came around the desk, wanting to capture her while she wasn’t poised as though a frozen doe staring into oncoming high beams.
In between F-stops, he found himself glancing up over his camera as though his eyes strove to capture each of Sam’s expressions instead of his memory card. She was breathtaking; her beauty was crippling. The power she held enveloped him with or without a camera in hand. Sam suddenly pouted, and he about choked.
“Just once, I’d like to command my life. I’m not talking a lifetime. One day.” The naughty seductive looked she flashed him made every one of his attempts at restraint come undone. Clearly, she wasn’t being serious and it was lunacy to believe otherwise.
“Problems? This industry is more challenging than most.” His voice came out hoarse and taxed. An alarm bell rang inside his head. “Let’s try for the business as usual look.” He retreated, giving them distance, and picked up the tripod.
Sam stood at the corner of her desk. “Doesn’t seem possible.”
Rob approached the desk, understanding her consternation. She was petite, and even in her heels, her head only came up to his shoulder. Nevertheless, she was still a powerhouse in the way she tossed her long dark hair, following him with her mercurial eyes.
He patted the desk. “Can you get up here?”
“I don’t think so.” She tried to swing her hip onto the corner of the desk, but her skirt was wrapped around her bottom snug as a bug. “No, I’m grounded. Oh brother,” she said, slightly blushing. “I don’t think a chair would even help. I guess we’ll have to think of something else.” She chewed her lip.
Rob softly groaned. For a second, he feigned ignoring her but he couldn’t. He’d have to be blind to accomplish that feat. Her clothed body was already imprinted in his mind, and if his dick had anything to say, her unclothed body would be more than welcomed.
“Do you mind if I give you a lift?” He spread his palms out in front of him and motioned with his hands.
“Good idea,” she breathed as her face flushed deeper.
“Ready?” When she nodded, he placed his hands on either side of her hips and squeezed. The feel of her between his hands made his cock harden. For a second, he fought the urge to crush her against his body. Didn’t she realize her effect?
“Rob,” she whispered, giggling, her breath caressing his neck, and her hands fell over his arms.
In his twenty-eight years, he’d never heard a sound quite like her laughter. This woman wasn’t Sam. She was sin in a skirt. Hotter than hell. And damnation had never looked so good or tempting. Every cell in his body was on high alert. He was bathed in her fragrance, and his cock thickened. He grazed his thumbs up and down across her belly as he held onto her hips fighting his primal urge to kiss her. Tell her his thoughts. Find out if she felt the same. Shit, he better refrain from thinking about doing anything further.
“Sorry. I’ll stop.” She inhaled. Her hands held onto his arms, and her thumbs rubbed gently.
“Okay, let’s get you seated.” He tensed his muscles, envisioning his hands spreading her legs, and wrapping them around his waist. Jesus, he bit his tongue as her breasts rubbed against his chest right before he lifted her up.
She gasped. Her breath was a sweet whisper on his neck, her mouth wet and inviting. He had to get her away from him. Another second, and he’d do something foolish.
Rob positioned her on the corner of her desk. “Take this,” he said hoarsely giving her a computer tablet to hold.
“Like this?” She crossed her legs, her skirt doing exactly what he feared. The seams bulged, and if they came apart he’d be hell-bent to do more than stare.
“Sit up straight,” he barked from behind the camera. “Take a deep breath and don’t smile.”
A look of surprise flashed across her face. Then she must have realized he’d begun snapping. She wiped all emotion from her face. Amazing, he thought, as though a curtain had fallen into place.
He moved, adjusting his lens, capturing images of Sam from various angles. “Uncross your legs and cross your ankles.” He clicked more images. This was more like it. From far away, he could maintain himself. He moved from camera to camera, repositioned a tripod, and continued taking pictures.
No matter what angle he captured, every one of her sides was spectacular. Her breasts were perfectly framed by her blouse, and small peaks pushed out from the material. Her skin absolutely glowed, and he focused his camera to a point on her neck that pulsed from a vein.
For a second he gaped, captivated by her beauty, and wondered if she felt anything he was experiencing. He longed to run his thumbs over each of her n
ipples. God, he wanted to hear this woman moan under him.
Sam brushed her hair away from her face, eyeing the carpet. “Can you help me down?”
He nodded, unable to speak sensibly. He moved near her, and their gazes locked again. When he touched her, another low gasp escaped her luscious mouth. The way she felt between his hands, he didn’t want to let her go.
She stared up at him, with eyes wide and innocent, and she licked her lips, making him think she was nervous. “Let’s try over here,” he suggested.
Sam dug her fingers into his arms. “You’re the first person doesn’t seem to want a favor from me. Is that what being outside the corporate world gives a man?”
He swung her down and refused to think about the softness of her body and how her eyes glimmered. Her hair trailed against his cheek, infusing his nostrils with her scent, and she grabbed his arms again.
“Well?” she asked, still curling her fingers around his forearms.
“Sam,” he murmured, “corporate or not, everybody wants something.”
They stood face-to-face, sheltered by the moment. He stepped cautiously back, aware that there had been some transmission of a spark between them. Insanity to go after such a jolt—the result would amount to a kick in the teeth. Sam was the daughter of Cainwright, not some little number at a vacation retreat or bar. For the last year, he’d tasted plenty of those types and had his fill. He’d met an unlimited number of women, the kind of women who didn’t expect much from a photographer who would only be around for a week.
Previously, he’d relished traveling light and leaving with no ties, but this young woman before him was not the wham-bam-thank-you-Sam type. Regardless of how good she felt within his hands, she was essentially hands-off.