The men who had “volunteered” were most worried about being posed in ways that made them look girly or too slick or just cheesy.
Georgie tried her best to get the money shots quickly. She made her living photographing the D.C. scene, politicians, and other newsworthy events. Trying to get men to loosen up while staring at their half-dressed hard bodies was not the pleasure it might seem.
Thankfully, her twenty-one-year-old assistant, Zoey, a college student, had been doing the prep work: keeping track of the order of the men for the photo shoot, checking for strategic shaving needs, and spraying them with an oily mist so that their admirable torsos and ripped backs and arms would catch and reflect the light for the lens.
It was only after their dogs were added into the mix that the men relaxed and gave Georgie the easy smiles and cocky poses she’d been trying to coax from them in the warm-up shots. Man and dog. Powerful combination.
And then Philip Dexter arrived.
“Oh my gawd! Who’s that?”
Georgia hadn’t bothered to glance up from her camera at Zoey’s exclamation. Zoey’s jaw had dropped so often during the workday that Georgie no longer trusted her judgment of exceptional.
But then she did have to look up.
She liked strong noses. The man standing nearby had a bold and blunt nose, in perfect balance with his broad brow and strong jaw. Thickly lashed hazel eyes in dark olive skin. Damn! He had the eyes, the lips, the height, and the biceps. It was as if the Greek god of beauty had ransacked the gorgeous aisle of some celestial Macy’s and gifted him with all the best deals. He was tacky with attractiveness, and she couldn’t look away.
“Hi. I’m Philip Dexter. What do you need me to do?”
Georgie couldn’t believe the X-rated thoughts rushing into her head. It was so unlike her, so unprofessional. She’d photographed presidents and heads of state. Even a couple of A-list movie stars. Why did looking at—Philip?—unglue her brain?
“Check with Zoey.” She pointed and walked away before she made a fool of herself by drooling.
Georgie usually smiled at her subjects to put them at ease. Even the most confident person sometimes needed reassurance when being stared at down the barrel of a photo lens. But there was no need to reassure Philip about anything.
When his turn came he seemed perfectly at ease in his half-nakedness. At home in his fireman gear. And a perfect counterpoint to the gorgeous yellow Labrador retriever named Zander he held on a leash. Two beautifully proportioned animals that put the pheromone in phenomenal.
Unlike the other men who, after their shoots, escaped to pull on a shirt and accept the usual rude comments of their friends, this man had come right up to her. “Hi. Great session. This is Zander.”
Embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze, Georgie had reluctantly taken the hand he held out. “Hi. I’m—” Her gaze dropped to his feet. “Boots.”
“Boots?”
“Nickname.” Holy samoly. Where had that come from?
“Interesting. You want to tell me how you got that name over a drink later?”
Boy, did she ever! Once she thought of an answer. But Georgie didn’t mix business and pleasure. So she asked a question instead.
“What does Zander do?”
“He’s got a great nose for search and rescue.”
She took a few shots of just the dog, then dropped to one knee and waited for Zander to sniff her. When satisfied, the dog gave her a bump with his head, permission to pet.
Georgia did so, then rubbed each velvety ear with her fingers. “What a gorgeous animal you are.”
“Thank you. Zander’s handsome, too, don’t you think?”
The audacity of his reply jerked her gaze up to his. Hazel, with a lot of tortoiseshell highlights. Gorgeous. Absolutely.
“About that drink.” He wasn’t going to give up easily.
She rose to her feet and leveled a glance at him that usually got her message across without the actual brush-off words. “I’m pretty busy. Lots of others waiting for their turn before the camera. Let’s see how the rest of the shoot goes.”
He had stared at her for a second, those honey-caramel eyes assessing something, then he nodded. “Right.”
Now, in the early morning light, Georgie lowered her camera to stare with her vulnerable gaze at the sleeping man she’d invited to her place and into her body.
She’d had that drink with him, and several more. But that was not the reason he had gotten into her bed, and was still there.