"Oh, stop being so modest. You are beautiful, Michael Sloan. You were always one of my favorite subjects," she said in her straightforward way, so open and direct. His heart pounded faster, his skin heating up from her compliments. It grew tougher to keep her in a neat, organized corner when she said things like that.

"Thank you," he said softly, as he moved in near to her, his arm b.u.mping her shoulder. A slight hitch of breath escaped her lips as they looked at the image. He resisted touching her, even though all his instincts told him to. Instead, he studied himself on the screen of the camera, and he looked like the guy he'd always been. And yet, as he saw himself through her eyes, through her lens, he seemed...happier.

Maybe he looked more complete because he'd been caught staring at her.

"See," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "Your eyes are so expressive. Your cheekbones are perfection. And your lips are..."

He picked up where she'd stopped. "My lips are what?"

She met his eyes. "Red," she whispered, saying it in the same tone he'd uttered the word last night. Her cheeks flushed pink.

Ah, h.e.l.l. He was going to have the hardest time not losing himself in her. She was going to have to stop this right now. It was past time for him to put an end to all these sweet nothings, or he'd be utterly ruined. But no f.u.c.king way could he tell her to stop. He liked her compliments too much.

"By the way, I liked watching you work," he said, sidestepping to a safer topic.

"You did?" she asked as she returned to her camera bag and zipped up a compartment.

"You sort of radiate energy, but it's focused. It's almost like an athletic event when you take pictures."

Her lips curved up. "Sometimes it feels that way."

"You perform like that. Top of your game. You with your camera, seeing the world in ways other people don't."

She stilled her movements and c.o.c.ked her head, looking curious. "Is that how it seems?"

"Yeah. It does. Both watching you work and seeing what you saw. I always got a kick out of looking at your photos. Like when you took pictures at the Pearl Jam concert we went to. Eddie Vedder didn't look the same way to my eye as he did to yours. Seeing the pictures afterward was like opening a whole new view of something I'd already experienced," he said, taking off his shades and tucking them on the neck of his shirt. "What's your favorite thing to photograph?"

"Surprises," she answered quickly, as she zipped another compartment.

"What do you mean?"

"Something that's out of place. Something you don't expect to see. A pink sock fluttering on a bush makes you wonder why a pink sock is there. A dog with a goofy expression that makes him appear almost human. The moment before a kiss when the woman is surprised."

"Do you photograph kisses often?"

She shook her head. "Not often enough. I'd like to, though. I'd like to do a photographic book of kisses."

"Would you put yourself in it?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. Depends if I looked like I wanted the kiss desperately."

Oh, that was too easy. He stepped closer, swiped his thumb across her chin, and held her face. A tiny gasp came from her throat, and her lips parted.

"Yeah, like that," he said, his voice rumbling as he held her gaze. The look in her green eyes was hazy, full of want. "That's the image you want to capture."

"Maybe I don't just want the before," she whispered, her accent thicker, the way it sounded when she was more turned on. She was more French when she was aroused. He brushed the barest of kisses on her lips, a small, gentle kiss that made his skin sizzle. "I want the after, too."

Before. After. In between. He wanted it all with her. One simple kiss and he was on a slingshot into wild longing.

"I want it, too," he said, his voice low and hungry.

She pulled back and blinked as if refocusing. "You keep distracting me from packing up," she said, her voice soft and playful. "And I need to, so I can steal you away from here for a few moments."

He swept his arm out grandly toward her camera bag. "By all means, pack up then."

She tucked the remaining items in pouches and pockets, keeping her eyes on him. "Thank you for what you said about my pictures. About how you see something in a new way from them. That means a lot to me. Sometimes I go back through old photographs and see new details. Some slant of light, or a new angle. Something that wasn't there before."

"Will you look at them all later? Hunting for details?"

She nodded, meeting his eyes. "I will. Including that one of you."

The temperature inside him rose. "What will you search for in that one?" he asked, and when she looked at him like that, her gaze intense and knowing, the breath fled from his lungs, and he felt...disarmed. She was so direct. And yeah, she'd been like that when he knew her before, but it was magnified now, amplified by age and worldliness, as if all her inherent confidence had been strengthened and sculpted over time.

"Maybe I'll remember how it felt to have you in front of me."

His head felt dizzy. His blood rushed hot. "How does it feel?"

"Like a favorite memory is real once more. And real is very, very good."

She didn't want another ghost. She wanted the solidness of Michael. The warm skin. The beating heart. He was flesh and here with her. That fueled her, made her want to answer this persistent hum in her bones asking for nourishment, asking for all she'd been deprived of.

Contact. Connection. A thread binding her to another human being.

But asking for all that was too much, too soon.

Instead, she gestured to the edge of the pool area as she hiked her bag on her shoulder. "Walk with me?"

"Where are we headed? Are you hungry?"

"Starving." She patted her stomach, flat as could be as they walked. "You know I always have a good appet.i.te."

A smile spread slowly on his face, and he nodded. "Super metabolism," he said, since that was what she'd called it.

"French metabolism," she added.

She was slim and trim, but she didn't deprive herself. She wasn't a pig, but she wasn't a "I'll just have the salad" girl, either. Her secret was simple-she put one foot in front of the other and burned it off.

"Still walk everywhere?"

She nodded and then held up a finger as they reached the doorway leading into the hotel. "Wait. That's not true. I took an Uber today," she said, like it was a confession.

He arched an eyebrow. "Naughty girl."

"I know. I'm the worst. But in my defense, I went several miles away. Breakfast with Becky."

"Yeah? How was that?"

She scrunched her brow. "A little odd, to tell the truth. I'll talk to you about it at lunch. If you want to get lunch?"

He nodded. "Sure. I know some great spots here at Caesars. But do you really only have twenty minutes? Because that would mean taking you to the vending machines on the third floor and springing for pretzels."

A grin tugged at her lips, and she stage-whispered, "That's what they tell the girls. To make sure they're back in an hour. So I actually have about that long." She set her hand on his arm, wrapping it around his bicep. Oh, that was nice. He was so toned, so strong. Julien had been ropy and lanky. Michael was broad, firm, and just...bigger. Stronger. She liked that he felt different from what she'd been used to. "I thought we'd be done by now. That I'd have you arrive at the end of the shoot and then..."

"And then what?"

She shrugged happily. "And then..." She let her voice trail off once more, leaving possibilities lingering in the air. The truth was she'd been hoping for more of last night. For a repeat performance, and then some. She wanted to touch him, to smash into him, to feel him grind against her, and to wrap her legs around him. Call her greedy, call her needy-she'd own up to all of that. But when the director had told her the shoot was lasting well into the afternoon, and maybe the evening, she wasn't so sure she'd get what she wanted. She'd have to settle for lunch. She gestured right at the next corner, indicating the hallway that led to business suites in the hotel.

"Where are we headed, Annalise?"

"I left my purse in our suite-we all use it for the day. It's kind of cool. Like a dressing room, because the models get ready there."

"So it's full of bikinis?"

"Yes. It is"

"Will you model some for me?"

"Would you like me to?" she volleyed back, as the sparks zipped between them. The flirting-the heady, decadent flirting-was fantastic. She wanted to inhale it, let it fill her body like oxygen after too long without air.

"I believe that was established twice-a few minutes ago, as well as on the terrace last night."

"Last night was interesting," she said softly as they reached the door.

He tilted his head. "Yeah? Interesting is kind of vague. What made it interesting for you?"

"Seeing you, of course."

"Was that all?" he asked.

She knew he was fishing. But she wanted him to catch her at the end of his line. She needed him to reel her in.

She leaned in close, her head bending to his neck, her breath traveling across his skin. He smelled so d.a.m.n good, clean and masculine, his aftershave hinting at the scent of the forest. "Touching you."

His hands shot out, gripping her upper arms. Tightly. "You like touching me?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

Like? She f.u.c.king loved it. She wanted her hands all over him. Wanted to explore him.

"So much."

He exhaled hard. "One hour, you say?"

Her lips pressed against his neck, then she whispered softly, "Sixty whole minutes. Minus ten now, from the time we spent on the pool deck." She said it like an invitation.

"Let's get out of the hallway then."

She nodded, reached for a key, and opened the door.

CHAPTER TEN.

Bright lights a.s.saulted him. Fluorescents shone starkly from the ceiling, revealing one wall lined with makeup counters, and four mirrors with exposed light bulbs framing each. He reached for the switch to dim the light to a normal illumination so he could be alone with her without retinas frying, when the wispy blonde from the shoot waved a hand.

Ah f.u.c.k. That was a buzzkill. So much for the privacy of a room. His shoulders sagged. It was like being in college again, roommates crawling out of every nook and cranny, right when he'd been hoping to have his hands all over Annalise. His fingers itched to touch her.

"Hi, Annalise," the blonde said, stretching her arms over her head, pushing them into a gray sweatshirt. She poked her head through the hole.

Annalise cleared her throat. "Hey, Candy. What are you up to?"

"Just going to do some yoga during our break."

"Great plan. Good use of time. I need to grab my purse." Annalise gestured to a beige couch littered with purses, bags, and jackets. "Then you can do your downward dog to your heart's content."

Candy waved a hand. "I'm meeting my yoga guru. In his room. He travels with me."

"Oh," Annalise said, seeming to rein in a smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips. "That's smart. To have him travel with you."

"Thank you! I better go. I only have a few minutes to clear my mind of dangerous toxins," she said, then seemed to float on her own weightlessness to the door.

She left, and the door clicked shut with a satisfying thunk.

"A traveling yoga guru?" Michael asked dryly.

"Don't you have one? I mean, really. How else could you travel?"

He held up his hands. "Can't think of how I'd manage without one," he said, then glanced around the room.

"It's a good thing she had to leave to see him, though, don't you think?" she said.

"It's a f.u.c.king great thing. Think anyone else will pop in?"

"It's possible." Annalise gave an indifferent shrug. "But that's what chain locks are for."

She dropped her camera bag to the carpeted floor and slid the lock into place. In a second he was behind her, dragging his nose along her exposed shoulder. "I like touching you, too. So f.u.c.king much."

"I like you touching me," she whispered, facing the door, her fingers frozen on the lock.

He dragged his hands along her sides, traveling over the fabric of her tank top, along her waist, up her ribs to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then back down. With her hair pinned up, her neck was bare and inviting. He dipped his head to the soft, sweet flesh, inhaling her. She trembled, shudders racking her whole body. He kissed a path along her neck, up to her ear, then nipped her earlobe.

"Michael," she said, all low and needy.