It was the way he had looked at her all evening, as if she was the most important thing in the room. No man had ever looked at her with such single-minded intensity. Georgie knew she was attractive in a curly redhead, freckle-face way. But there were other more attractive women present, for instance her friend and their host, Yardley Summers. Summers, owner of Harmonie Kennels, was strikingly female. Tall and lean with cliff-hanger cheekbones, long red-mahogany tresses, and coal-black eyes, Yardley made every man who saw her look twice. Yet Philip hadn’t seemed to notice Yardley was present.
When she’d pressed him a bit on the subject of women he’d answered, “What do you call a man on a date with a redhead?”
She had stiffened. Just when she was beginning to like him he turned out to be one of those jokers who thought making fun of her hair color was okay. God. She’d had enough of those jerks by fifth grade.
She started to stand up when he reached for her hand. “You didn’t let me finish. He’s the luckiest bastard in the room. And, if he’s got half a brain, he won’t try to be clever and risk losing her.”
And now he was waking and turning over to reveal the reason she was still humming and quivering after a night of oh-so-happy. Morning hard-on.
She lifted her camera without a thought of anything more than the desire to immortalize his erection in all its glory.
“What are you doing?” His voice was as rough and rumpled as the bedding. The scowl on his face reminded her that he was a serious man with a serious job. Firefighter. K-9 division for search and rescue missions.
She squatted down beside the bed. “Just taking some informal shots.” Her finger never left the shutter button, recording shots reflexively.
“I didn’t agree to this. Not nudies.” And yet he didn’t reach to pull the sheet over his nakedness. Ooh boy. Just reclining there he was messing with her mind.
“What are you planning to do with those?” He pointed to her camera.
Georgiana lowered her camera and tried to think. Of course, she should assure him that she wasn’t just some salacious female who would tweet and Facebook his ass all over the Internet.
“I’m an artist. When someone or something attracts my eye, I photograph it. If I was a painter, I’d have my easel out. Understand?”
He was still scowling. “You’re a professional, award-winning photojournalist. That makes you very competitive where your work is concerned. How do I know those photos won’t show up somewhere public like a gallery?”
“I wouldn’t do that.” How did he know all about her credits? She had asked Yardley to keep her name secret in the Harmonie Kennels promo for the calendar shoot, and she certainly hadn’t told him those details during their date. Of course, she had been shooting law enforcement professionals. These men would have easy access to such information. Maybe word got out anyway. “You have my word.”
He cocked an eyebrow, an expression that defined skeptical.
“Fine.” She sighed and handed him the camera. “Erase them.”
He took it without hesitation.
“If I were you, I’d look at them first. Just so you know what I was doing.”
She watched him click through the photos, the doubt on his face turning to surprise and then a faint smile. When he finally looked up, he raised both eyebrows. “You didn’t take a single shot of my face.”
“Not what I was interested in.”
“So I noticed.” His face caught fire with a grin so lewd she tightened her thighs in a purely female response. “What are you going to do with them?”
“Keepsake.” Dear lord. How lame did that sound coming from a grown woman?
“You do this often?”
“I never do this.”
He set her camera aside then stacked two pillows behind his head before reaching out a hand to her. “Then let’s make some more memories.”
She didn’t need to ask what kind. Stretched out before her was the definition of a male in his prime. Six-pack, check. Ripped and ridged torso and arms, check. Heavy corded thighs and firm swells of calves, yep. As for the eager-to-please erection, oh my. Someone needed to thank his mama for producing the sinfully delectable man in Georgie’s bed.
Lust rushed to her lower regions, feeding an ever-tightening ache at the apex of her thighs. Trouble. She was in a lot of trouble. She really liked this guy. He was cool, calm, totally in control without any of the macho swagger and antics that turned her off from the alpha males who strutted around Capitol Hill.
For the first time she realized that she was naked, too. Squatting down there by the side of the bed, she finally felt the chill of the morning.
“You’re shivering.” He wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand. She noticed a tender, not predatory, smile on his face. “Come back to bed and let me warm you up.”
She didn’t doubt he could do that. Despite her shivering she was already quite warm in all her intimate places. “I don’t usually do this.”
“It’s okay. Keep the photos. But keep them private.”
“No, I mean I don’t do this.” She came up to her knees, letting the mattress hide her nakedness to just above her nipples. “I don’t sleep around.”
His smile could rearrange the stars. “We didn’t sleep much.”