Page 27 of Take Hold of Me

9

Emilie

“Hold that pose,” Wade directs while snapping photos.

I rest my head against the palm tree, focusing on maintaining my balance in the sand and keeping my grumbling stomach still. When was the last time I ate? Yogurt for breakfast in my room before the sun came up? How many hours ago was that?

“Pull the sunglasses slightly down your nose, Em.”

Obediently, I lift my right arm—closest to the camera—and let my fingers, with their freshly painted nails, land on the frame. Very slowly, I pull the sunglasses down my nose and aim my focus on the lens. And hold.

“Perfect! Now turn your head toward the ocean and completely remove the glasses.”

I do as I am told, my eyes landing on the half dozen crew members who are eating or drinking while watching the shoot. My stomach rumbles but the sound of breaking waves juxtaposed against Classic Rock drowns out my body’s protest. The soundtrack reminds me of my driving lessons with Wills and I search the beach for a sign of him. He is here somewhere.

“What’s that sour look for, Em? C’mon, give me your signature sexy pout.”

I better stay focused. I need to do my job well or someone else—Geonna Broz—gladly will do it for me. Must keep my reputation sparkling.

Wade stops taking photos and examines the screen on his camera. I take the moment to reposition my back against the ever-so-uncomfortable palm tree. He focuses the lens back on me. “Gimme some love over here, Emilie.”

Concentrer. I focus on the waves for inspiration when Wills crosses my line of vision. He has a cup in his hand and brings it to his lips. The way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows is so masculine. So sexy. Makes me want to trace it with my tongue.

“Good job. Continue with that.”

Do not mind if I do. Wills eclipses the male models on set here. Or anywhere, for that matter. And I do know he is still interested in me—his kisses at the club prove it. My limbs melt into the palm tree at the memory. His lips were so skillful. Unlike any other kisses. I can still feel his lips on mine, the way they tingled in response. His body is hard planes and bunched muscle, yet he does not strut. No, his face and body are not his sole reason for living, even though they are mighty fine. I admire him so much for trying something new and taking over the gym to honor his sister.

“There’s my sexy Em!”

Wade takes several more shots. My mind continues its foray into all things Wills, even though I have lost sight of him again. His virile grin. His boldly changing careers. How he makes me feel protected. Our interesting conversations. He seesme, not only the outward trappings the world sees. Rather, he used to. Lately, he has pulled away. However, the more he pulls back, the more I want to push forward. If only his inner demons will let him open up.

“Okay, let’s break.”

Pushing away from the hard palm tree at my back—probably leaving permanent indentations in my skin—I gain my balance in the sand and locate the food table. Slipping a thin robe over the shoot’s skimpy white microkini, I make my way to what looks like a platter of barbequed meats. With my mouth watering, I grab a plate and pile some delicious-smelling chicken onto it, with a salad.

I stop at a nearby white plastic table and collapse down into an orange chair, too hungry to even grab a bottle of water. As I devour the well-seasoned chicken—as if I were on Rinaldo’s football team rather than a “demure” model—my eyes explore the oceanfront to look for my once-again-invisible bodyguard.

“Everything okay, Em?” Wade hands me a bottle of water.

“Just hungry,” I respond after I swallow a mouthful of the meat. Opening the bottle, I take a long sip, then hold it up. “Merci.”

After resecuring his ponytail, he scolds, “You should’ve told me you needed a break.” A length of brown hair escapes and flutters in the wind.

“I didn’t want to interrupt the flow.”

My job, as I have been told several times, is to do what the photographer directs and not to cause a scene. Stacy drummed that into my head before my first shoot—and reminds me of it before every new one.Follow directions to stay in demand. I have no desire to set the boat rocking.

While I take another drink, Wade grabs an orange chair, swivels it around in the sand so that the back is facing me and straddles it. He reaches over and puts his hand on top of mine, preventing me from picking up the water bottle again. Lowering his voice, he says, “I’m not sure what you were thinking about back there, but you’ve never looked hotter. The magazine’s going to be thrilled to have you grace its cover and the inside spread.”

The way he emphasizes his last word makes my stomach want to reject my lunch. I swallow over my discomfort as Wade squeezes my hand, his eyes burning through my translucent robe. I stifle my urge to recoil, opting instead to shift in my seat and keep my head down.

When I do not react to his touch, he brings his head toward mine. “However, I think I could put an even sexier look on your face.”

I place my hand on his chest and shake my head. “Wade. No.”

“Why not, Em? You’re here. I’m here. I remember the way you used to look at me wearing even less than you are now.” He offers a cocky smile. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I am not interested. I am dating someone.” I cross my ankles to ward off any bad karma for telling a lie. Well, Iwantto be dating a particular someone. Who should be stepping in to break this up at any second.

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