Intimate (4 page)

When her eyes went wide, he figured he had her. He knew for sure when she said, “Do you have a contract I can look over?”

“I do.” He reached into his briefcase and pulled out the papers. Two copies, standard contract, one she shouldn't have a problem with, but he gave her time to read it. And, amazingly, she did. All four pages. He watched the way her eyes tracked, the businesslike manner when she pulled a notepad and pen out of her shoulder bag and jotted down some numbers.

“Do you have any questions?”

Smiling, still concentrating on the contract, she shook her head. “My major was business, emphasis on law. Even though I don't ever see myself working in a fully business environment, I'm still taking post-grad classes when I can fit them in. Dad always told me it was never a good idea to depend on looks and good luck. He wanted me to be able to get, as he puts it, ‘a real job' in case the modeling gig didn't pan out.” She laughed, and this time she raised her head and gazed at him directly.

He felt her look, a tactile stroke over nerves already sparking. “I fully expect it to pan out,” she said. “Which makes it even more important that I understand contracts.”

“Smart man, your father.”

“I know. I was thinking that today when I got fired.” Shaking her head, she added, “Your timing couldn't have been better.”

Did she have any idea the effect her smiles had on him? Would she even care? If she did, he'd be sunk—even deeper than he already was. “I'd love to say it was brilliant planning on my part,” he said, “but this time I think it was pure luck.” He held out a pen.

She took it, and he was much too aware of the soft brush of her fingers across his palm, the way her shaggy brown hair fell so artfully across one cheek.

Pausing, she held the pen just above the contract. “Do I need to bring any particular clothes or props? Is there a style you're looking for?”

“Dark and dangerous, but classy. Think edgy sophistication. If you've got anything you think will work, bring it along. I've got a small budget for clothing, but your own might be more comfortable for you.”

“Black leather skinny jeans with a really low rise. They show most of the tattoo and my navel really well. And I wax, so the low rise isn't an issue.” She laughed, the sound deep and throaty and so contagious he laughed along with her. “And, for your information, that's professional info. I'm no longer thinking of this as a date.”

They both laughed, but Jake couldn't help imagining how much fun she would be on a date. He hadn't laughed like this or enjoyed a woman's company this much in way too long.

“Black heels,” she said. “Very high.” She sort of squinted at him and laughed again. “Like I'm not tall enough already. But ya know, I think I could wear them around you and you'd still be taller. Oh, and some blood-red accessories. What about hats?”

“Throw in anything you can think of. I've got an Escalade. Too big for San Francisco, but perfect for hauling all the stuff I need for jobs. There's room for whatever you want to bring, along with my gear. As far as physical props, we'll mostly work with what's available at the vineyard. There's an old barn that's been upgraded, but it's got a bunch of antique stuff in it. I'm a very minor investor in the winery, so I've got keys for everything.” He glanced at his watch.

“It's almost two. If I can pick you up by five, we should be able to make it to the inn by seven unless the traffic is really awful, but there's a good restaurant just down the street and we can get a late dinner there. I expect we'll need at least two days, maybe three, to get enough photos. Is that okay with you?”

“Not like I have anyplace else to be.” She signed both copies of the contract, then handed them to him as she pushed back her chair.

Glancing at the signature, he read, “Marielle Leigh Kazanov?” He laughed. “Kaz fits you better.” He quickly signed the contracts.

She almost giggled, but it came out as more of an inelegant snort that made him like her even more. “That's why no one knows my real name. You call me Marielle, the deal's off.” Playfully, she reached for both contracts. He gave one to her, but held his copy over his head.

She huffed out a deep breath, gave him directions to her house, and said she'd meet him out front at five. “I need to let Mandy know.”

“The barista?”

“She and Lola, the receptionist at Top End, are my roommates. They're sisters.”

“That explains it. I thought it was really weird that the little blond barista reminded me of a receptionist working the Goth look.”

Laughing, Kaz leaned over, grabbed her bag, and shoved her copy of the contract into the side pocket. She raised her head and smiled at him. “Just in case you're wondering, their dog's name is Rico. Mandy and Lola's mom is a huge Barry Manilow fan.”

“Crap. ‘Copacabana.' Now I'm going to have that song running through my head all night. I can never remember all the words. It'll drive me batshit crazy.”

“I can help. With the words, not driving you crazy, though I'm sure I'll do that as well.” She winked at him. “I know all the words to ‘Copacabana,' ‘Mandy,' ‘I Write the Songs'—you name it, I know it.” She slung the strap to her handbag over her shoulder. “And I can sing it, though not nearly as well as Barry. See you at five.”

He wanted to cheer, but all he said was, “I'll be there.”

She stopped and turned around, and every move she made was like watching a ballet. Tall and lean and so perfectly put together, he wanted to reach for the camera he'd left at home, which made him glad he hadn't brought it because he'd be making a damned fool of himself. He'd never seen anyone like her. Ever. But he'd have plenty of time for pictures.

“Kaz. I'm really looking forward to working with you.”

“Thank you. Me, too. You.” Her gaze was pure, sensual intensity. He'd felt it since the moment he first saw her at the agency. The feeling had intensified when she'd walked into the café, but now it was directed solely at him.

The strength of it almost knocked him back in his chair. Good Lord, if he could capture that in his pictures …

“I have a feeling I can trust you, Jake.” She laughed softly, sort of a gravelly, husky laugh that clenched the muscles across his abdomen and sent shivers trailing down his arms. “See you at five.”

And then she was gone.

It felt as if she took all the air with her.

 

CHAPTER 3

About forty miles from their destination, Jake pulled the Escalade over for gas and called ahead to make sure they could get a couple of rooms. After a short conversation, he raised his head and grimaced. “Okay. The place where I have reservations for Thursday is booked solid tonight and tomorrow night. Guess I should have called before we left, but I never imagined there'd be a problem on a Tuesday night. There's some kind of wine-tasting event going on, as well as a bike race. We might have trouble finding a place.”

He stared at his iPhone and shook his head. Then he handed the phone to Kaz. “Do you mind seeing if your luck's any better? The vineyard is at the northern end of Dry Creek Valley, so rooms in either Healdsburg or Geyserville would work. Santa Rosa's too far to be practical. Don't worry about the cost. I'm good for it. See if you can find us someplace to stay while I fill up the tank.”

She looked at the phone in her hand and sighed. She hoped he knew what he was saying when he told her not to worry about the cost. Any room in wine country was bound to be expensive. Then she went online, made a list of hotels and motels in the area, and started calling. And calling.

She ended another call, another no vacancy response, and crossed that one off her list. Stretching her arms overhead and arching the kinks out of her back, Kaz glanced to her left. A man stood on the other side of the next bank of pumps, staring at her. He reminded her of the guy she'd noticed in the coffee shop when she'd met Jake. After a moment, he stepped to one side to remove the gas nozzle from his car and disappeared behind the pump.

That was creepy. She went back to dialing hotel numbers, watching while Jake filled the tank and washed the windshield of the big SUV. It didn't take long for her focus to shift to the smooth line of his broad shoulders and the way the T-shirt hugged his perfect body. As he stretched to wash the windshield, she could make out the sharp definition of what had to be six-pack abs. The orange Giants logo on his black shirt—a little different from the one he'd worn earlier—stretched tightly across the muscular breadth of his chest.

Definite eye candy. She was still ogling, though a bit more subtly, by the time he was back behind the wheel, pulling onto the highway. It was another twenty miles farther down the road before she finally found what sounded like the last available room in the whole area.

“Found one. It's expensive, in Healdsburg, but they just had a cancellation. There's only one room. It does, however, have two beds.”

He shot her a quick glance, but she couldn't read anything in his sharp gaze before he quickly turned his attention back to the busy freeway. Staring straight ahead, he shrugged his shoulders and she heard his sigh. “It's up to you. I can bunk in the car if you're uncomfortable sharing a room. I'm really sorry, Kaz. I didn't think everything would be full midweek. Did you try Santa Rosa?”

“You said earlier that's too far from the site where we're doing the pictures.” She studied his profile a moment, imagined it framed by a soft pillow. What would it be like to wake up beside a guy as gorgeous as Jake Lowell? “I'm okay sharing a room,” she said. Her gut said he was a good guy. Her hormones thought he was fantastic. She definitely liked what she knew so far.

He shifted in his seat and snagged his wallet out of his back pocket, flipped it open and slid out a credit card. “Use this to hold the room. Let them know we're less than half an hour away.”

She glanced at the name on the card. R. Jacob Lowell. It was on the doors of the Escalade, too—one of those fancy decals that said R. Jacob Lowell Photography along with his phone number and Website. Probably what the weird dude at the gas station was staring at. Not at her. She wondered what the
R
stood for.

Then she glanced at Jake, at his beautiful profile. The way light and shadows from the setting sun played across the stark planes of his face caught hold of her, until Kaz had to consciously force herself to concentrate on the phone in her hand. She redialed the hotel, gave the desk clerk the credit card number, and reserved the room.

She yawned as she ended the call. “Got it.”

The cell phone vibrated in her hand. “You've got a text.” She held the phone up so he could see what it said. He glanced at the text on the screen and took the phone when she handed it to him.

“Business,” he said. “It can wait.” He closed the screen and stuck the phone in his back pocket. Then he turned his eyes back to the road.

Kaz stretched again. Damn, it had been a long day. She'd arrived for the Smithum photo shoot before seven. What was it about these frickin' photographers and their morning light?

She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. It was quiet, other than the steady hum of the engine. The Barry Manilow CD he'd stuck into the player had ended a few minutes ago, but he'd proved to her that he knew all the words to “Copacabana.”

He was smart and fun, with a quick wit and a great laugh. Plus, he was a good driver, even in this horrible bumper-to-bumper traffic. She liked watching the way he handled the car.

Liked him.

How would she respond if Jake came on to her? She watched him as he easily handled the traffic, which had grown even heavier as they passed through Santa Rosa, heading north. He was definitely hot. A big guy, but not bulky. Lean and muscular with a sharply chiseled face that could keep him steadily employed as a model, and yet he was on the other side of the lens.

What made him turn to photography? Why was it so important that she find out?

The moment she actually formed that subtle question in her mind, Kaz realized that, over the course of the last ninety or so minutes of driving, she had started to see Jacob Lowell as more than a job.

What was it Lola had said? The minute you started wondering about a guy, it meant you were interested in him.

She had way too many questions for a disinterested woman.

When she glanced at Jake again, she felt that shivery sense of need, the kind that seemed to connect all those tiny bars and studs she wore. No wonder they were popular for erogenous zones. Her clit and nipples—even her belly button—seemed to tingle in response to Jake's nearness, and she realized her thinking had done a full one-eighty, not so much about possibilities, but about down and dirty sex. Of getting naked with a man merely because she liked him, liked his laugh and the way he made her laugh, and it didn't hurt one bit that he was damned hot to look at.

And the setting was looking better all the time.

Even a nerd like her couldn't screw up with so much material to work with. An elegant hotel room with two beds in the wine country was a good start. She almost laughed, imagining how other women would work something like this.

Seduction might not be her strong suit, but Jake? Wow … he made it worth at least trying.

She was still thinking of the evening's potential when they pulled into the off-street parking area behind the hotel. The sun had set behind the western hills, but it was still bright out and the streets were filled with people enjoying the small town and central plaza.

Jake didn't want to leave his camera gear in the car, so Kaz helped him carry the extra bags inside the hotel. She waited while he registered, standing off to one side, admiring the way he seemed to take control of the counter, and she was almost laughing at the flirtatious looks the young clerk gave him.