Don’t Call Me Sweetheart

by Jeanette Ward

  Confused. She was so confused by the smoldering look in the dark eyes regarding hers. The blatant amusement she had seen moments ago disappeared completely and she watched, transfixed, as Christian’s gaze dropped from her frightened face to skim her shoulders then boldly devour the rest of her body. Whitney tried to stare at the burning light bulb directly above her, the wooden crossbeams hanging above the set, anything she could find to keep from meeting the smoky eyes that had filled with an intense passion she couldn’t, wouldn’t, believe she saw.

  In the end she gave up, realizing it wasn’t helping. She knew instinctively that Christian wasn’t acting anymore. And she wasn’t either.

  Whitney was so caught up in the emotions swirling about her, she forgot that Jag was still present, clicking off shot after shot. Her breath was coming in erratic little gasps and Whitney barely heard him ask if she and Christian would shift a bit to their right to allow more light to play across their features. Christian did the shifting for both of them, effortlessly lifting her weight while he repositioned them as directed.

  Her sharp intake as their hips settled intimately against one another’s left little doubt in either Christian’s or Whitney’s mind that her nearness was having a distinct effect on him. Whitney blushed, realizing that Christian’s body was reacting to hers with the same intensity she was experiencing despite the fact that they were both fully clothed. Well, she was at any rate, not to mention the fact that there was a stranger busily snapping pictures of the reactions they were unintentionally evoking in one another.

  Christian and Whitney were nearly oblivious to Jag as he moved around them, clicking off one shot after the other. Each was lost in their own thoughts, unaware that a thread, delicate in its dawning, had begun to form between them.

  With Jag encouraging more feeling, morepassion, in order to tell if he was getting the desired effect on film, Christian took advantage of the opportunity and brought his mouth crashing down on Whitney’s, claiming her lips in a demanding kiss that set her soul aflame with an aching need just as it was intended to do.

  Her body responded instinctively with a will of its own and Whitney was powerless to stop her arms from wrapping themselves around Christian’s corded neck, drawing him to her as her lips parted beneath the onslaught of his velvety kiss. Her shyness ebbed with each touch of his moist, firm lips as hungry kisses branded her bruised lips, her flushed cheeks and the wildly beating pulse at the hollow of her neck.

  Forgotten was the quiet, sheltered woman, content to create passion between the pages of books. In her place emerged a long forgotten temptress who wanted, needed, more than what life had offered lately. Of its own accord her body melded itself to Christian’s, straining to encircle the power he exuded, answering his searing caresses with exploring embraces born of instinct. For once Whitney freed herself to fully experience the wondrous, wanton feelings racing through her, refusing to stop and assess the sudden overwhelming change in herself.

  “Well, it looks like you decided to start without me and our missing model,” Tess observed dryly, her keen eyes taking in the scene before her as she stepped back into the room. Three pairs of startled eyes turned her direction. In that horrifying split second sanity rushed in to reclaim control over her erratic behavior and Whitney realized exactly where she was—and what she had been doing.

  Oh God…what had she been thinking! More importantly, what would Christian think of her after such an inexcusable display of licentiousness?

  She pushed desperately at him to gain her release, needing to distance herself from the heat of his body and the smell of arousal clinging to his skin. But the devil deliberately took his sweet time standing up, stopping long enough to trail his hands slowly down her arms as he helped her to her feet, making no effort to cover himself. Whitney was shaken to her very core.

  She backed away and stood, breathless, trying wildly to collect her thoughts. She must have been mad to agree to this! It didn’t matter that the thought of Christian was sweet temptation itself, that he set her heart racing with every glance. He would think the worst about her now. How could he not? He had just been acting, doing what was required to collect his pay. But she had no excuses for her behavior. It was to his credit that he had been able to elicit responses from her she didn’t know she was capable of, while he gave the appearance that he too, had been as emotionally involved as she had been.

  He was one hell of an actor but Whitney had nothing to explain the manner in which she had behaved.

  “Well, where is the worthless chit who has us so far behind schedule? I’ve done what I can with these two but we really need to get past the preliminaries.” Jag’s question was directed at Tess but it also served to cut into Whitney’s jumbled thoughts.

  “It looks as if some of you are already past the preliminaries,” Tess announced wryly, the suggestion of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She stared accusingly at Christian but he was too busy regarding Whitney with still smoldering eyes to notice. The look Tess read in his expressive black pools told her that for him this days’ work couldn’t end soon enough.

  “Hey,” Jag asked again, clearly frustrated. “What about that model? Is she coming or not?”

  “She was delayed in traffic. She called in by cell phone to let the agency know where she was and they indicated we could expect her any minute.”

  The unmistakable clicking of high heels against a tiled floor attested to the fact that “she” had arrived. Whitney was grateful for the interruption since it gave her time to slip back to her chair unnoticed. Unnoticed, that was, by everyone except the owner of passion-glazed obsidian eyes boldly raking her retreating form.

  A young woman entered the studio and crossed to where the others were gathered. She was dressed in a mauve double-breasted suit, its form-fitting short skirt showing off long curvaceous legs encased in silky taupe stockings. Matching pumps with three inch heels elevated her trim frame even more but still left her head well below the line of Christian’s shoulders when she stopped to stand near him. Gold wireframe glasses perched across her small nose, giving her an air of professionalism.

  The model tossed her shoulder length, honey-blonde hair and allowed her eyes to slide up and down Christian’s handsome form. “Well, if I had known what was waiting for me, I would have moved heaven and earth to be here earlier.”

  “You should have anyway,” Tess interjected impatiently. “You’ve already cost us quite a bit of money with your tardiness, so let’s see if we can make up for lost time, shall we?”

  Magically, people appeared from all directions to apply makeup, put finishing touches on hair and make final adjustments to the set and lights. Where had they been ten minutes ago? Whitney supposed it was just as well that no one else had witnessed the way in which her willpower had crumbled at the first touch of Christian’s hands.

  Jag called for Christian and Charisse, the name the model used to introduce herself, to take their places. He spent a few minutes instructing the participants about the look he was after and filling the sultry blonde in on the positions which would enhance both of their profiles to their fullest.

  At Jag’s direction Christian once again pulled a woman’s soft body beneath his own, supporting her with his arms and placing his hand beneath silky smooth hair. Once again he looked down into a beautiful upturned face. He found himself searching. Searching Charisse’s features for something, anything that would spark a response to surpass the overpowering urges he had felt holding Whitney only moments before. Here was a woman who wouldn’t expect more than she would get, a woman he wouldn’t feel the need to protect or care for. He knew what to do with a woman like this. But her practiced embrace felt alien after the sweetness of Whitney’s innocent surrender.

  This time he was compelled to act, to put on a mask of deception as he went through the motions of feigning an arousal far different from the genuine reaction he had shared with Whitney. There was no pleasure to be found with this woman, no sense of co
mpleteness like that which he had discovered with a certain auburn-haired angel who, he knew, was at this moment watching as he caressed another woman. If their roles were reversed, he wasn’t sure he would be able to do the same.

  Jag and his assistants were busy making changes in an effort to achieve various effects, which left Tess free to stroll back to where Whitney waited, fidgeting in her chair as Charisse enthusiastically threw herself into her work.

  “A penny for your thoughts?”

  Whitney’s eyes narrowed unconsciously. “I was thinking that she was the type who would probably do just about any trick a man could think of for not much more than that penny you now owe me,” Whitney drawled. It looked to her as if Charisse was enjoying her role a little more than was necessary.

  Tess laughed. “My, my. Perhaps I should warn that girl to watch her back.”

  Startled by Tess’ response to the uncharacteristic statement she had just made, Whitney pulled her gaze away from the action and tried to smile as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Not from me. I couldn’t care less what they’re doing up there,” she countered airily, her eyes darting sideways to watch the seductive blonde wiggle her bottom suggestively as she perched on Christian’s lap.

  Tess nearly choked with laughter, momentarily drawing the attention of those working. She waved a hand their direction in apology and turned to take a closer look at her friend.

  “What exactly are you doing?” Whitney demanded as Tess caught hold of her chin and turned her face from side to side, peering intently at her.

  “Looking to see if the green of your jealousy matches your eyes.” She tried to suppress a giggle at the warning look Whitney shot her direction but couldn’t.

  “Jealous? What doI have to be jealous of?” Whitney exclaimed.

  “What indeed. Didn’t Christian kiss you like that too?”

  “Tess, for heaven’s sake,” Whitney admonished tersely, her dark lashes sweeping low across her pinked cheeks. She was too embarrassed to meet her friend’s eyes but she knew she couldn’t look at Christian either. Not if he was kissing Charisse.

  Their chatter interrupted the flow of work again and this time even Charisse stopped running her hands through Christian’s thick, black hair long enough to glare at them. Jag was simply fed up with the constant interruptions.

  “Would you two mind keeping it quiet back there?”

  “Okay, okay. We’ll make it easy on you,” Tess declared good-naturedly, tugging on Whitney’s arm and pulling her toward the doors. “We’ll just take our bothersome little butts next door for a cappuccino while you finish up.”

  Agreeing that a change of scenery would do her frayed nerves a world of good Whitney hurried to keep up with her friend but turned at the door for one last look. Green eyes and black found each other momentarily across the broad expanse of space and as she passed through the glass doors leading away from the studio Whitney had the unmistakable feeling that the owner of the other pair distinctly regretted seeing her go.

  The two women settled themselves comfortably in a booth at the small cafe next door and took their time deciding their coffee preferences. After the waiter left to turn in their order Tess purposefully brought up the subject Whitney had been hoping to avoid.

  “Based on your behavior back there, can I assume that Christian gets to bypass the usual battery of questions and move directly into round two of the Whitney Lane Date Lineup?”

  Whitney wondered if Tess had gone around kicking hornets’ nests when she was little. She was awfully good at stirring up trouble.

  “No!” she answered forcefully, then looked away in embarrassment as the waiter reappeared with two frothy cups of coffee, a knowing smile playing across his face.

  She grimaced at the idea that even a perfect stranger could tell what she was thinking. Well, he can’t, Whitney told herself staunchly. Neither did Tess. No one knew her secret.

  I do. That man’s touch is waking up places inside me Jon never knew were there. And people thought I was such an expert on these things.

  “Methinks she doth protest overly much,” Tess quipped, stirring the foam back and forth in her cup.

  “I do not,” Whitney lamented weakly, adding no less than four packets of sweetener to her coffee while Tess watched in amusement. “Well, maybe I do, I don’t know. I haven’t known much about anything since the moment I walked into the country club yesterday and met your Mr. Incredible. This is all your fault. And don’t you think I’ll forget that little fact anytime soon.”

  Tess raised her hands in mock horror. “Sure, I’m the worst friend in the world. I introduce you to the best looking man on the planet, you manage to end up with his lips plastered to yours the very next day and I’m the one who needs to be worried?” She couldn’t go on, she was laughing too much.

  “You should be worried,” Whitney persisted, refusing to acknowledge the truth of Tess’ words, or just how easy the cold hard facts made her look once they were laid out. “I think my next book will be an in-depth portrayal of an oversexed, neurotic publishing queen obsessed with…”

  “Okay, okay,” Tess cut it, holding her sides, “I get the picture but I positively will not believe you if you tell me Christian isn’t the best thing to come into your life since you made your first million.”

  “That’s just it! He’s not in my life!”

  “It looked as if he wanted into something back there, sweetheart.”

  “He was just acting, that’s what you were paying him to do, right?”

  “I’ve known that man most of my adult life, Whitney, so believe me when I say he wasn’t acting.” Tess paused to lick a drop of froth from the corner of her mouth. “What’s more, you know it too.”

  Whitney refused to expose herself to that way of thinking. It would hurt too much if Tess was wrong. “You saw how he was with that other woman. It was exactly the same,” she pointed out smugly. “Are you telling me he’s turned on by anything with cleavage?”

  “Well, he was attracted to yours at any rate.” Tess answered glibly, unwilling to let Whitney belittle herself. They were making such progress. “Are you still going out this evening with him?”

  The moment the photo session had begun Whitney had forgotten about the tentative arrangements made for her yesterday, the same plans she had intended to skip out on before the day had turned into such a fiasco. Now there was no way she could go through with the plan considering what had passed between her and Christian. She couldn’t imagine a more humiliating situation.

  “Why, because he might kiss you again?”

  Whitney mentally shushed the naughty voice that had sprung unbidden out of nowhere. Aloud to Tess she replied, “Of course not. I never planned to anyway.” Her answer came just a little too quickly for Tess to believe she actually meant it.

  “Okay. I suppose if you can’t make it and we know I never have a free evening, we could probably talk Charisse into filling in for you at the last minute. It looked as if she liked Christian well enough.”

  Correction. It looked as if she wanted to devour Christian piece by piece. Whitney had visions of the petite blonde flung across Christian’s lap as they made their way about the city. With no one to give them directions, she was certain the worldly model would improvise on a few new moves for Christian’s pleasure.

  But wouldn’t that be preferable to putting herself through the ordeal of appearing with him herself? What if she lost control again? As much as she hated to, she had to admit there was a possibility she might if he turned those dark eyes her direction.

  No, No, No, Whitney rationalized to herself emphatically. The chances of that happening were nonexistent since he would have left his act behind him at the studio. He wouldn’t be giving her any encouragement.

  As if you really needed it.

  If for no other reason than to prove to herself and that aggravating little voice, that she could ignore Christian if she choose to, Whitney made her decision. She would go. She had nothing to lose
by going, as long as she didn’t have to touch Christian. And she didn’t really want him to think she was afraid of him, did she? This would be her chance to try to convince him that she too had only been acting. That’s all.

  But what about that look she had intercepted as she left? The question brought the memory of black eyes flashing with intensity crashing headlong into all her logically laid plans. A shiver sliced its way up her spine.

  “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience her. Really.” Whitney answered Tess’ dare at last, twisting a coppery curl around her finger, hoping she didn’t sound as transparent as she felt. She paused to swallow a little of her coffee, then added, “I guess it wouldn’t be that much of an imposition to show him around, that is if you think he still wants to go?”

  “I bet he’s banking on it,” Tess answered cryptically, sending them both into a fit of laughter.

  The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly and before she knew it, Whitney found herself back in the studio waiting for Christian to finish changing his clothes after the others had left. As she sat and stared once again at the door of his dressing room, trying not to image what was happening behind those closed doors, she had second thoughts about her rash decision. And third thoughts. And…

  Chapter Five

  “Looks like we’ve been deserted,” Christian observed as he stepped from the dressing room, his deep resounding voice reminding Whitney that she shouldn’t be there. With him. Alone. The rest of the crew had left nearly half an hour ago, with Tess and Jag following close behind. The studio was silent except for the sound of quiet laughter echoing from an out-of-sight office. It wasn’t fair to have a dream come true at the same time a nightmare was preparing to unfold.