Page 6 of Be With Me

I took another breath and focused on my laptop, opening up the file from yesterday’s bridal shoot. Enough with the daydreaming about something I’ll never have and don’t need, anyway. I had work to get done. And these photos were going to take some major editing to come off looking the least bit like the happiest day of their lives.

Nothing like an angry bride to cool off my inappropriate libido.

***

The next two weeks flew by, and before I knew it, it was the day of Tyler’s shoot. In spite of myself, I’d taken care that morning to look nice without looking like I’d tried to look nice. I wore my favorite jean shorts, a purple T-shirt with a “V” neckline that showed off my cleavage, and my coolest pair of hip, slip-on sneakers.

Did people still say “hip”?

My mass of dark hair was artfully messy, and I’d spent an hour putting on makeup that made it appear I’d been born with this natural, youthful glow.

Tyler came in as I was in the back cleaning the lenses for my camera. I didn’t even have to see or hear him to know he was there. My mating radar perked up as soon as he entered the reception area of my small, modest studio, the hair on the back of my neck standing up in awareness. A studio I was extremely proud of, by the way, because of everything I’d gone through to get to a place where I could afford the rent for a commercial space for my business.

And for the first time in my life, I’d done it all on my own, without any help from anyone.

I’d spent too many years being dependent on someone else, and for weeks after my divorce, I’d felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff with my arms flailing wildly in the air, desperately trying not to fall into the dark abyss below even as my toes slid forward and rocks broke loose, the echo of them smashing against the side on their way down going on forever.

But now my feet were firmly planted in the earth, a safe thirty feet or more from that scary ledge. The strength it took to steady myself and back away had been there all along. I’d just been too wrapped up in my husband and kids to know I had it in me.

And now, after the hardest two years of my life, I’m in a place that’s all about me. It sounds selfish, but I didn’t care. And I was happy here.

He rapped lightly on the door to the back room where I kept my equipment and backdrops. It was where all the magic happened. And where I was currently hiding.

“Knock. Knock.”

Chills chased each other up and down my arms at the sound of that deep, easygoing voice. Pasting a welcoming—but professional—smile on my face, I set the lenses I was cleaning down on the table and turned to greet him.

“Hey, Tyler!” Too high! Too squeaky! Clearing my throat, I lowered my voice and asked, “How are you?” Sweet Jesus. He was even better looking than he was the last time I’d seen him.

The Mediterranean god grinned. Not the sexy, knowing grin I’d seen him use in his last shoot, but an open and honest one. It lit up his features, and completely took my breath away for a second. “Hey, Ailee.”

My non-existent ovaries went into overdrive just hearing the way he pronounced my name.

“I’m good,” he continued. “Just got done with my summer classes.”

Oh, my God. I was lusting after a student. “Classes?” I repeated with that stupid smile pasted on my face. I tried to stop, I really did, but it was frozen there. Frozen. Like clown paint.

“Yeah, I’m going back to school and I needed to take some fillers.” Crossing his arms over his muscular chest, he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this sort of thing, but you know, I’m finding I appreciate it a lot more now than I did right out of high school.”

I tried to keep my eyes off his biceps, displayed to my advantage by his pose and the white tank he was wearing. I failed miserably, so, instead, I tried to make it look like I was only interested in what those arms were going to look like in front of my lens. “What are you taking?” Better. That sounded perfectly casual. Like I was only asking to make conversation.

“I’m starting law school.”

His answer distracted me from his perfect arms. “Law school?”

“Yeah. I want to fight for people in the workplace with disabilities. Specifically, mental illnesses.”

I didn’t think it was possible to lust after this man more than I already did. I was completely and utterly wrong. “Wow. That’s ambitious.”

“It’s been something that’s been on my mind for a long time. Of course, I may have to stop doing this.” He looked past me to the area of the studio where I took photos. “I don’t know that the courts would take me seriously after seeing me on the cover of a romance novel.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yeah, it really would be.”

Something about his tone and the way he was looking at me gave me pause…but no, it was only my imagination. Wishful thinking. I gave myself an internal pinch. “Romance covers won’t be near as attractive without you on them.” As soon as I’d said it, I willed myself to disappear into one of the photos on the wall. “Uh, I mean…”

Luckily, he broke into my stuttering excuse for something cool to say, “It’ll be too bad because I won’t get to come here and see the way you look at me through that camera you love to hide behind so much.” He paused, his eyes uncertain for a moment before his face firmed into an expression of confidence. “I’d like to see you look at me like that without it.”

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