Lip Service - GOOGLE
Page 15
Camille looked away from Heath, who seemed to be assessing her even more closely. “I’ll be taking action shots at the game on Sunday, but right now we’re going for a fun vibe. Happy. If everyone could get in groups of five, with three men and two women, that would be great,” she said. The group hardly paid attention to her, though, and continued talking and laughing. Ruby was a few yards away now, talking on her phone.
About to call out her directions even more loudly, Camille was surprised when Heath cupped his mouth and shouted, “Hey, you assholes, quiet down and listen to the lovely lady here or I’ll dump sand down all of your shorts!”
The group laughed and quieted down instantly, Camille couldn’t help but be impressed. She stood back a bit and repeated her directions. Men grabbed women’s wrists, a few play-fighting over a cheerleader, before they finally formed into suitable groups. A couple of groups had four men with one woman, but Camille could work with that.
“Okay, I’m going to start with this group, take a few photos, and move this way,” Camille said as she pointed. “Remember, lots of laughter and smiles. No serious model poses or super sexy stuff either.”
The guys guffawed, a few saying dirty things to some of the cheerleaders.
Camille fell into the zone, taking photos and directing people. She knew what she was doing here, with the camera in front of her face, the sound of the shutter and the play of bodies across the screen. She’d fallen in love with photography as a young girl, and she’d only gotten more talented in the intervening years. She freelanced because the flexible schedule gave her more time with Emma, but her daughter was in school and staying with Rich roughly half-time, which meant she had more time to devote to her career. She’d always wanted to photograph for the NFL and now that dream was so close she could practically taste it.
Several minutes later, she paused and reviewed what she had. Pleased with the shots she’d already gotten, she moved to the group with Heath in the middle.
“Okay, give me happy! Smiles and laughter, please!” She raised her camera, but she realized that Heath was staring at her again. When she caught his stare, he grinned.
“I’m feeling the need for some inspiration. Do you know any jokes?” Heath asked.
“I’m not really the type for jokes,” Camille said shortly.
“That’s too bad. You look like you could use some loosening up.”
There he went, making his unsolicited observations again. She placed a hand on one hip. “I suppose you’ve got a bunch of jokes you’re just dying to tell me?”
“I like to make the ladies laugh as much as the next guy.”
She flashed him a tight smile, determined not to let him get to her, when what she really wanted to say was, Yeah, but usually they’re laughing at you, not with you. Of course, that wouldn’t be very professional of her, so she simply said, “Go for it.”
More people laughed, although the leggy blond with Heath looked annoyed, pushing her bottom lip forward.
Heath held up his hands to quiet his friends. Then he studied Camille from head to toe, taking his time, making her flush, before he said, “How do football players do it?”
God, why had she challenged him? She could tell by the teasing glint in his eye, and the type of joke, that the punch line was going to be sexually charged, but she’d been around ribald football players long enough to know if she gave the slightest hint of being uptight, it would only go badly for her. “How?” she asked gamely.
“For over two hours in eleven different positions.”
Delighted in spite of herself, Camille had to fight hard not to laugh. Instead, she shook her head, as if he exasperated her, and waved a hand. “Okay, now that that’s out of the way, can you guys give me the shots I need, please?”
“You deliberately didn’t laugh.”
Camille took a picture of him, liking the way he frowned when she ignored him.
When she kept snapping pictures, he approached her and held his hand up in front of the lens.
“Come on, admit it. You thought it was funny.”
Camille sighed. He hadn’t even given her the time of day years before, and now he couldn’t stop flirting. Why? Because she was so different from his blond cheerleaders? Because she represented a challenge? That had to be it. But she’d teach him that even sexy football players didn’t win every challenge. “The only thing I’ll admit is you like to hear yourself talk too much. I’m surprised you can stop doing it long enough to score.”
They were having a good old-fashioned showdown, and many of the other football players and cheerleaders had gathered around them. Kyle Young whooped and congratulated Camille for her putdown. Then Alec shouted out, “Looks like you’re definitely not scoring today, Dawson!”
Heath, though, wasn’t one to let up that easily. “How’s about we bet on that?”
Camille frowned. He just wanted to get a rise out of her. And he was: her nipples prickled with his words and she had the stupidest desire to let him touch her all over. She’d never felt like this with any guy—not even her ex-husband—and she still didn’t understand the hold Heath had over her.
“Here’s a bet,” Camille finally replied. “I bet you can’t keep your mouth shut for an entire hour. If I win, you have to be quiet for the rest of the day.”
“And if I win?”
“It won’t matter, since you won’t be able to do it.” Of course he wouldn’t, Camille thought, truly convinced. The guy was a total attention hound.
“But if I win?”
“You get whatever you want.”
Camille instantly regretted her words, especially as the girls tittered. Heath’s eyebrows rose, and his gaze landed on her breasts before moving to her lips. Then he moved closer to speak in her ear. “I get a kiss,” he finally said slowly, and surprise and heat filled every inch of Camille in equal measure. It was the last thing she’d been expecting him to say given the tall blond that had been hanging all over him. Wasn’t she his girlfriend? Could he be that much of an asshole?
She glanced at the blond, who was glaring daggers at her. “But—”
“Genevieve likes to flirt with me, but we’re not together, so you can’t use her as an excuse. So as I was saying, I get a kiss whenever I want,” he clarified. “Or does that scare you too much?”
Camille felt stupid for falling into his trap. She wanted to backtrack. Tell him absolutely not. But everyone was staring at them, and she just couldn’t give him the satisfaction of surrendering. “Fine. It’s a deal.” She knew she sounded snappish, but Heath never failed to get a rise out of her, even a decade later.
Heath fell silent and she continued the photoshoot. She counted the minutes, glancing at her watch every so often, and each time she did, Heath looked at her with a “Did you think I couldn’t do it?” kind of look. Camille just glared at him as she moved onto the next group.
The minutes passed, and she kept tabs on Heath throughout, to see if he were, indeed, keeping their bet. He remained silent, not even laughing, not even talking when the leggy blond whined at him to say something. Camille had to admit that the man was stubborn.
After finishing up over an hour later, Camille realized that Heath had won. Flustered, thinking about him kissing her, she began fingering her hair while looking through the photos.
Heath stepped up to her, and Camille’s heart pounded. Would he claim the kiss now, in front of everyone? Lowering her camera with shaky hands, Camille was about to ask him what was up, when he said in both amusement and surprise, “Is that you, Waterboy?”
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Lip Service
Copyright © 2017 by Virna DePaul
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
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