Love, Unexpectedly

by Susan Fox

  The idea was tempting, but so was what he had in mind. “Let’s pretend we’re playing the board game, and one of us draws a card that says, ‘Act out a role play where one of you is a photographer and the other’s a model.’”

  She gave a quick laugh. “Okay, how about I be the photographer?”

  He handed her the camera. “Works for me.”

  After a moment’s examination, she said, “Like I’d have the slightest clue how to use this? All I can do is point and shoot.”

  He took it back. “Then I guess I’ll have to play the photographer.”

  “A role you’re uniquely suited for, Dhiraj,” she teased. She glanced around the room. “Okay, where do you want me? Let me guess, on the bed?”

  “Nope. Standing. Now, you’re a model, and we’re shooting a spread for a magazine. It’s a digital camera, so I can shoot any number of pictures and we’ll delete the ones that don’t work out. Don’t be self-conscious, just let loose and move around.”

  A nervous giggle. “There isn’t much room to move.”

  “Shift position, turn, flip your hair, flirt with the camera, make faces. Have fun.” He began to click the shutter.

  She scowled. Stuck her tongue out. Then laughed. Slowly she moved this way and that, at first stiffly, then beginning to relax.

  He began to prompt her, as he did when he took candids or did fashion shoots. “Hands in your hair, head back. Stretch your neck. Tousle your hair. That’s it, very pretty. Very sexy. Give me a smile now. Wet your lips. Oh, that’s hot.”

  As he spoke he got down on the floor and shot upward, then sprawled on the bed and shot across at her, and then stood on the chair and shot down.

  She followed his instructions, seeming to lose herself in the game and having fun with the role play. What woman had never wanted to be the object of a magazine photo shoot with a photographer who told her she was beautiful?

  And she was.

  “Undo a couple buttons, Kat,” he said. “Now, flash me a little shoulder. Tease me. That’s it; that’s great.” He saw the flash of a blue bra strap. “More buttons, more flesh, let’s see the curve of your breasts. Oh, yeah, your skin’s so pretty against the lace of your bra.”

  He’d done lots of nude photography, yet the sight of Kat fluffing her hair and flicking her blouse open and closed was sexier than anything he’d ever shot. Because it was her. It was personal.

  Arousal throbbed in his groin, and he tried to ignore it, to concentrate on taking shots that would do her justice.

  She slid the blouse partway down both arms and pulled it back and forth in the same motion a person would use to towel-dry their back. Though she hadn’t said a word, the flush on her cheeks and chest, the sultry way she moved, said she was getting into this, too.

  That it was arousing for her, being worshipped by him and his camera.

  “Take it off, Kat,” he murmured. “Let’s see you just in the bra and jeans. Yeah, that’s beautiful, just beautiful. Hands on your hips, lean out from the waist, toss your hair and give me a smile. Okay, now straighten up again, turn halfway away from me, and give me a seductive look over your shoulder.”

  She obeyed, moistening her full lips without being prompted.

  “Now, unfasten the bra and hold it in place with both hands. And then, okay now, let it drop. Cup your breasts with your hands; offer them to me.”

  Her areolas were rosy pink, her nipples hard.

  As hard as his dick.

  “Play with your breasts; touch them the way you like to be touched. God, that’s lovely.”

  He wanted to touch her himself, but he was really getting off on photographing her. Getting off on the fact that she was letting him do it, that she was flirting with the camera and with him. That his game so obviously turned her on.

  It sure as hell turned him on, too. Foreplay, without touching each other.

  “Now the jeans, Kat. Undo the zipper, and slide them down your hips just an inch or two. Great. Okay, put your hands in your hair; stretch up.”

  She obeyed, shifting restlessly, stretching her neck, closing her eyes, tousling her hair this way and that. Making sexy little “mmm” noises like she did during lovemaking.

  “Give me some hip action now. Oh, yeah, that’s the way. Okay, time to get rid of the jeans. Slide them down slowly. Very, very slowly. And now, step out.”

  She stood there clad only in tiny lacy blue panties.

  He took in the full picture. The mussed hair, the glitter in her eyes, the brightness of her cheeks. The elegant stretch of neck, her soft, full breasts, slim waist, curvy hips. The scrap of fabric, then her long, shapely legs. Was there a prettier, sexier sight in the world?

  Without him prompting, she shifted position, rotated her hips, stretched her neck, tossed her head, did all the things he’d asked her to before, the moves even more erotic now because she was almost naked.

  “You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, keeping his tone low and hypnotic to urge her on rather than distract her.

  Her eyes closed and her fingers toyed with her nipples.

  His breath caught, and he had to fight to hold back a groan. Did she have any idea how she was torturing him? Unable to resist any longer, he put the camera on the vanity and yanked off his clothing. Fumbling with a condom, he sheathed himself, then pulled her roughly into his arms. “Damn, Kat, I need you. Now.”

  Holding her around the waist with one arm, he lifted his other hand and stroked it through her wild curls. Then he anchored his fingers in her hair and held her head firmly as he lowered his mouth to kiss her.

  “Oh, yes,” she sighed, her lips parting for him.

  He let her feel his passion, pouring it into the kiss, and she answered back. Then she broke away, but only to peel off her panties. Coming back into his arms, she raised one leg to hook it around his, pulling herself close to him, stretching her body upward like she wanted to climb him.

  Desperate to bring her closer, to get inside her, he caught her under the thighs, the butt, and lifted her.

  Her legs and arms curled around him, gripping tight, and he backed the two of them up so she was against the door, its firmness helping support her weight.

  Somehow she managed to reach down and guide him between her slick, heated folds.

  He surged inside her on a groan of satisfaction. Felt her internal muscles clasp him. Her sweet, panting breath against his ear as she whispered, “Do me. Now.”

  His need was so urgent, all he could do was thrust into her mindlessly, as fast and deep as he could go.

  Clinging tight to him, pretty much all she could do was go along for the ride. Fortunately, her moans of pleasure told him she was enjoying that ride.

  Her head tilted down, cheek against his. He closed his lips on her earlobe and nipped.

  She gave a soft cry, then an indrawn “oh,” and then she was coming with a long, shuddery drawn-out “oh-oh-oh” sound.

  The internal spasms of her orgasm finished him off, and his own climax rushed through him.

  Chapter 16

  I slumped in the chair in my tiny compartment, staring out the window but barely registering the forest scenery.

  I still couldn’t believe what I’d done. What he’d persuaded me to do. His voice had mesmerized me. To be honest, the idea of being photographed as I stripped had been a turn-on.

  The man was crazy.

  Exciting. I’d never been with a lover who was so exciting.

  I did trust him when he said he’d delete all the photos if I asked him to. Though, first, I wanted to take a look at them.

  I hadn’t had the courage, back in his room. In fact, I’d fled after we’d had sex.

  He and his games had that effect on me. After, I needed to pull back and get some distance. Rationalize what was going on between us. Between me and Dhiraj.

  Between me and Nav.

  How could we ever go back to the way we’d been, after the things we’d done today? Did I even want us to?
<
br />   This man, the one who looked fabulous, who was such fun, stimulating company and such a great lover, was special. Not Nav, yet he was Nav.

  If Nav was this person, then he was a man I could really care about. As way more than just friends.

  But thinking that way would be stupid. I wanted marriage, and he’d never shown the slightest inclination to get serious about any of the two or three dozen women he’d dated since I’d known him. I shouldn’t fool myself that I was that “perfect woman” who would change his mind.

  After all, look at my string of ill-fated relationships.

  When we were both back in Montreal, he might not even mention our train games. He’d be on to the next woman, the next game. And I’d…work hard at seeing him as Nav, and getting our friendship back on track.

  “Be careful what you wish for,” I muttered. I’d nagged him to clean up his appearance. Now he’d not only done that, he’d shown me he could be both more attentive and more exciting than any man I’d ever dated.

  Damn it, I wanted him back the way he used to be.

  Soon it would be time for dinner. Did I have the guts to face him? I’d done some wild things when lovers had asked me to, but nothing as outrageous as stripping—fondling my breasts—in front of a camera.

  My cell phone rang, making me jump. I pulled it out of my purse. My parents’ number.

  Blushing, I answered.

  Theresa said, “Hey, we got you,” and Merilee chimed in with, “Hi, sis.” I could tell they were on the conference phone in the kitchen.

  “Hi, both of you. Are the folks there?” How could I talk to my parents with the thought of that erotic photo shoot so fresh in my mind?”

  “No, just us.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Can you speak up? Cell reception isn’t so great on the train. So, how are things going with the wedding countdown?”

  “Matt got delegated the task of sending e-vites,” Merilee said, “and we’re already getting RSVPs. People love the M&M invitation, Kat.”

  “We’ve decided to have the reception here at the house,” Theresa said, “and I’m making a list of caterers, musicians, and photographers to check out.”

  “Great. You’re being very efficient.”

  “Well, of course.” She sounded surprised.

  I gritted my teeth. So much for complimenting Theresa. “What else?”

  “Matt’s sister suggested a florist, who I’ll talk to tomorrow,” Theresa said.

  “What about the wedding dress?” I asked.

  “It’s hard to find them off the rack,” Theresa said, “but—”

  “There’s this place, Sandra Sung, in Yaletown,” Merilee said enthusiastically. “A friend’s older sister got her dress there. I took a look at gowns on the website and there are some great ones, and they’re in stock now. I just know I’ll find a fabulous dress, and I’m a perfect size six, so it shouldn’t need alterations. We have an appointment to go in this afternoon. I can’t wait!”

  “Wish I could be there.” It would be fun to see my little sister trying on dresses. But bittersweet to browse the racks wondering if—no, when, damn it!—my own time would come.

  “The bridesmaids’ dresses could be tougher,” Merilee said, “especially since Jenna’s not going to be home until whenever.”

  “Jenna’s a bridesmaid?”

  “Kat hasn’t heard,” Theresa said dryly. “It’s going to be a three-pack of bridesmaids.”

  “What? All of us?”

  “Of course,” Merilee said. “And my friends Candace and Jennifer, as well. Matt’s little sister is the flower girl.”

  “That’s a lot of people walking down the aisle,” I said.

  “And that’s not counting Mom and Dad,” Merilee said. “They both have to give me away. Dad’s easy; we’ll get a boutonniere for his tux, but I want Mom to have a new dress so we all match. Did I tell you, the theme colors are ivory and rose? Anyhow, trying to get Mom away from the office and into the dress shop is going to be tough.”

  “She is preparing an appeal for the Supreme Court,” I reminded her. “And it’s being heard next week.” We’d grown up knowing how important Mom’s and Dad’s jobs were.

  “And this one’s a class action suit,” Theresa said, “and she has almost a hundred plaintiffs counting on her.”

  “Well, what about me?” Merilee complained. “Don’t I ever get to count on her?”

  “It’s just bad timing,” I said. “You know she’d love to help out if she could.”

  “No, I don’t know that,” Merilee said, sounding bitter. “How would I? Everyone’s always too busy with their own shit to care about what I need.”

  “Uh…” Her outburst took me aback. Normally she was sweet tempered. And she almost never swore. “Are you having pre-wedding jitters?”

  “No, I’m not having fucking pre-wedding jitters!” Her voice was loud enough that, even with the poor cell reception, I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

  “Hey, don’t get mad at me. It’s not like I did anything.” I rose, wishing there was room in this tiny compartment to pace. Why did talking to my family so often give me a headache?

  “No, you never have, have you?” she said snippily.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I tried to remind myself she’d been sick, she was stressed out catching up with schoolwork, she was nervous about getting married. But I still felt hurt.

  “She might actually have a point,” Theresa said in the calm, slightly superior tone that always got my back up.

  “What are you talking about?” I went over to the vanity and opened my toiletry kit, hunting for aspirin.

  “Think about it, Kat. When we were growing up, who was there for Merilee?”

  “There for her? All of us.”

  “Sometimes,” Merilee said softly, sounding rational again. And sad. “But sometimes nobody. Except Matt.” She paused, then said, “Theresa, I can’t believe you actually get that.”

  What were the two of them talking about?

  “We were self-absorbed,” Theresa said. “Me, getting so much pressure from our parents to excel at school.”

  “But you loved all that academic stuff,” Merilee said.

  “True,” she said. “And I’ll confess, I loved being the best at something.”

  “No shit,” I mumbled, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder so I could uncap a bottle of water and pour a glass.

  Theresa ignored my comment. “And you, Kat, always so busy with your social life. So many friends, so many activities, you hardly had time for your family.”

  “That’s because everyone was so focused on you,” I pointed out, trying not to raise my voice. “If I got any attention at all, it was only to be compared to you. Most of the time unfavorably.” With a twist, I opened the pill bottle and shook out two capsules.

  “I…Really?” Theresa said. “Is that how you saw it? But, you’re Mommy’s girl, right? We always said I was Dad’s. The academic. And you were Mom’s, with a, um, more practical kind of intelligence, and always so outgoing and sociable and interested in people.”

  “And I was no one’s kid,” Merilee said in a small voice. “Until I met Matt and had someone who really saw me and cared about me.”

  Wow. I’d never thought of our family this way before.

  It occurred to me that none of us had mentioned Jenna. Had she felt the way Merilee had? Was her constant flitting from man to man really just an attempt to find someone who truly saw her and cared about her?

  “We all cared about you, Merilee,” Theresa said. “Honestly, we did. But we were too caught up in our own lives. You were so much younger. And you had Matt. You were always with Matt. It was like you didn’t need us.”

  “Why need what you can’t have?” Was it just the lousy phone reception, or was my little sister’s voice quavering?

  Well, damn. Had I been so busy being Ms. Sociability that I’d neglected my own sister?

  “Merilee?” I said, feeling like
shit. “If that’s how it came across, I’m sorry. I really am. I just thought we were all really independent, and I guess…” I remembered what Maggie had said at dinner. “I guess you and I learned that if we wanted to feel good about ourselves, we had to look outside the family. I did it by having lots of friends. You did it by finding Matt.”

  I swallowed and said softly, “And you were luckier than me, because I’m still looking for that one special man.” Then I held my breath, hoping that for once my sisters would forgo the jokes about my relationship jinx.

  After a moment, Theresa said, “Not to play ‘poor me, poor me, who got the worst deal?’ but even though I got parental validation, it went hand in hand with pressure to be perfect. That’s why I left home as soon as I finished high school. Yes, I wanted to achieve, but without all the stress of having the folks constantly on my back.”

  Another revelation. “I never thought about it being stressful for you,” I confessed. “I just thought you were perfect.” I sank into the chair, my headache easing.

  She chuckled. “That’ll be the day.”

  “I knew Mom and Dad wanted me to measure up,” I said, “but I never could. At least not when it came to smarts and career decisions. They wanted so much for me, and I wasn’t capable of being that person.”

  “Well how about that,” Merilee said wonderingly. “You two are as screwed up as me.”

  We shared a rather shaky laugh. In some ways, I’d never felt closer to my sisters.

  “Why haven’t we had this conversation before?” Merilee asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said, “but I wish Jenna could have been part of it. She’s always so, you know, out there. I wonder if that’s her way of compensating for not getting what she needed at home?”

  “I think you’re right, Kat,” Theresa said. “That’s perceptive of you.”

  My gosh. This might well have been the first time I’d ever heard words like that from her.

  “You know what’s the really strange thing about this?” she went on. “Mom and Dad are good people. They love us. We all know that. So how did everything get so…warped?”