Page 13 of I Almost Do

James squeezes my hand but doesn’t look away from the photographer. “You’re making my wife uncomfortable, Rafe,” he says coldly. “I don’t like it when my wife is uncomfortable.”

Those words shoot a thrill through me that I don’t want to feel. It’ll be that much harder to get over my crush if he goes around calling me hiswife.

Rafe sputters. I get the impression that he’s used to being in charge, which makes sense. He’s telling couples how to pose and what to do all the time.

But I’ve never seen anyone stand up to James when he uses that voice. Rafe is certainly not going to be the first.

I feel a little bad for the man. He’s just trying to do his job.

“I think what we need are some more classic poses. Does that sound all right to you?” Rafe finally asks.

I smile at him as brightly as I can manage. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you so much for being accommodating.”

James grunts beside me, and I can almost hear the words he doesn’t say:“We’re paying him to be accommodating.”

We do a number of classic couple poses on the steps, which are fine, if slightly awkward.

Then Rafe has James dipping me ever so slightly, my flowers hanging loose from one hand. My other hand is on the back of his head. It's the first time I've ever touched James's hair. It's silky soft and cool in the October air.

Flashes are firing around us as James looks into my eyes.

This pose is orchestrated. But the intensity is disarming, nonetheless.

James has had his CFO face on all day—distant and a little scary.

And I’ve been tense and nervous, giving fake smiles and forcing myself through the motions. It’s been awkward and uncomfortable, and I just want this day to be over.

But the longer we look into each other’s eyes, the more the tension starts to bleed out of me. The tightness around his mouth eases, and my own muscles relax.

I’ve known this man foryears, but I’ve never had the pure freedom to just blatantly stare into his eyes.

I no sooner have the thought than, for no reason I can see, the corners of his mouth tip up just a little. I blink, surprised, and ask, “What?”

“I’ve never looked into your eyes like this,” he says. “I thought they were green. But they’re not just green. They’re the color of moss with little flecks of gold in them and a halo of light brown around the outside. Your eyes are….”

When he doesn’t continue, I prod a little. Because now I need to know. My eyes are… weird? Pretty? Odd? “What are they?”

“Magic.”

The word seems so out of character for James, so…fanciful. It breaks something loose in me, and I have the strongest urge to just lift my head and close the distance until our lips meet.

James moves closer, and his gaze seems to catch on my mouth. I strain toward him, my breasts pressing forward, as he balances my weight with a single hand at my midback.

“That is gorgeous. You two are absolutely stunning. Give her a kiss.” Rafe’s grating voice interrupts the moment, and I’m startled to remember where we are and what we’re doing.

James doesn't kiss me. Instead, he hitches midmove, then brings his mouth to my ear. His lips brush the outer shell as he mutters, "This guy is the most annoying little shit I've ever met."

I laugh, a full-on giggle-snort.

James pulls back from my ear. And when he's looking into my eyes again, his have those crinkles at the corner that I love so much.

He kisses my forehead, and Rafe “oohs” and “aaahs.”

"Let's get a couple sexy shots now," Rafe says, completely ignoring our earlier comments about being private people.

And then he makes a critical mistake. "James, I want you to just run the back of your fingers across Clarissa's collarbone like this."

The photographer demonstrates by touching me, dragging his fingers across my clavicle and brushing my breast, probably accidentally, with his forearm. It's a stunningly intrusive thing for a stranger to do, and I jerk away from his touch.

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