Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)

The question surprised her, but she answered quickly, “She’s okay. Well, she’s not great. I was talking to my sister about her,” she said and shared some more details. She figured he must have heard the tail end of the conversation, picking up a few French words that she’d taught him once upon a time. Back when they were younger, he’d helped her with her English slang, so it was only fitting that she taught him some of her language. Mostly she’d taught him naughty words.

Which reminded her…

“I need to work on your French again,” she teased as they quickly found their seats, comfy gray leather chairs in the second row.

“You think so?”

“Like I did before,” she said, jogging his memory. “Have you forgotten it all?”

His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Why don’t you try me and find out?”

“Perhaps I will.”

The flight attendant strolled by and asked if they needed anything.

“All set,” Annalise told her, then carefully tucked her camera gear under the seat in front of her, meticulously taking the time to make sure it was positioned against the leg rests.

Michael tipped his chin toward the bags. “What’s the job in New York? More bikinis?”

“We have one more day in some very iconic New York locations for Veronica’s. We’ve actually booked the New York Public Library, and we have some fantastic shots planned of the girls lounging in their PJs on these leather couches, reading old books. It’s going to be very cool.”

His eyes twinkled. “Can I have your job?”

“You want to lounge in your PJs and read in the library?” she said, nudging him with her elbow.

“Yeah, that’s it. Exactly.”

“When Veronica’s adds boxer briefs, perhaps I’ll suggest you model them.”

He leaned his head back and laughed, a deep, hearty sound that warmed her soul. She loved his laugh; he’d been so laidback and carefree when she knew him before, quick with a joke or an easy comment. When his chuckles slowed, he lowered his voice to a dirty whisper, “But you don’t even know if I wear boxer briefs.”

She arched her eyebrow in a challenging stare. “No. But I fully intend to find out the answer to that, and to discover it…” She let her voice trail off, watching him linger on her every word with parted lips before she added, “So very soon.”

He drew a sharp breath, and she zipped right back into the conversation. “Then after that, I have a boudoir session with a private client.”

“Private client?”

“Just a woman who wanted to have some shots done as a gift for her husband.” She’d secured space for the shoot in a studio with a gorgeous, sumptuous bedroom set. The woman was the CEO of a sex-toy company, Joy Delivered, and she’d found Annalise through a mutual contact—her brother worked and lived in Paris with his wife, and Annalise had met them a few times at dinner with friends.

“Do a lot of women do that?”

“Enough to make it a good living for me,” Annalise said as passengers shuffled onto the plane, stuffing bags in overhead bins and checking their phones as they searched for their seats.

Michael shook his head in admiration. “Never knew boudoir shots were such a thing.”

Annalise nodded enthusiastically. “They’ve actually grown immensely in popularity in the last several years. More and more women do them. Some just do them for themselves.”

He cocked his head, his eyes hooked on hers, then answered in a thoughtful voice, “That sounds very empowering. I suppose you don’t have to be Gisele to pose for the camera in a lacy white teddy.”

“Yes! That’s it exactly. Not everyone gets that, but you do,” she said, grateful that he understood something few men truly got. While Michael had certainly indicated his appreciation for the gorgeous women on display yesterday, she adored that he understood that true beauty ran deeper.

He tapped his temple. “I can be a feminist.”

“It’s hot,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “And that’s honestly why I love shooting boudoir. Women are realizing that they don’t have to be rail-thin to look good in lingerie. You can have curves, you can have extra padding, you can have stretch marks and still put on a black satin bra and sexy panties and feel wanted, feel sensual,” she said, moving her shoulders and her hips, demonstrating how a woman might feel sexy. “It’s a way of celebrating their femininity. They’re capturing sexuality on camera.”

“They’re capturing their life,” he said with a nod and then added, “They’re enjoying their life.”

“Exactly. I’ve done photos for women after they’ve lost weight and want to celebrate their new bodies. And I’ve done some for others who haven’t lost weight but still want to embrace all that they are, and feel comfortable in their skin.”

“And you help them do that on the shoot?”

“I try. It’s not easy to strip down to your bra and panties and pose sexily for the camera. But my job is to make them feel like they’re all the sexiest women in the world.”

“How do you do that? What’s your secret?”

“I’m…wait for it… positive,” she said, like it was a punch line.

“Well, that would be a good skill,” he said with a quirk of his lips.

“It’s also natural to me. Because I do think the female body is beautiful in all shapes and sizes, and I let them know that they look amazing. Thin or heavy, average or above average. Blond, brunette, redhead. Birthmarks or scars. Every woman can be beautiful in her own way.”