Bared

“Lie down,” he said in that demanding, yet somehow compelling, voice that could convince a nun to sin.

She lay on her back and studied the stark white ceiling of the gazebo. The bench was a little chilly beneath her, but since her body felt so inexplicably hot, it was okay, and at least her entire backside was covered.

“Arms up, over your head,” Rafe said from behind his camera, and when she complied, he lifted his head and just stared at her.

“What?” Her arms were still stretched over her head, her body laid out like a sacrifice. “No good?”

“No,” he said softly. “It’s good.” He kept staring at her as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “It’s amazing, actually.” He looked through his lenses. Then he took the camera off the tripod. “Arch up, just a little.”

As she did, he came close, very close, shocking her when he put a knee on the bench near her hip and looked down at her through the camera from above. “This is the angle,” he whispered, and since he seemed to be talking to himself, not her, she remained silent.

“Remember that shoot we did in Fiji, Amber?”

His voice, so close, startled her, as did the question. “Um…”

“You played that prank on me. You’ve always played pranks on me, hiding my unused film, unplugging the lights, using makeup to create chicken pox, but Fiji…that was what led to our first and last date.”

They’d dated only once? Amber had insinuated there was much more than that. “Well—”

“You handed me your robe, and underneath it you—” He broke off with a little laugh and pulled away from his camera to look directly at her. “Well, I don’t have to tell you—you remember what you did.”

She only wished she did.

“You always screw with my head, knowing damn well that when I’m on a job, I’m on it one hundred percent, no playing around.”

She had the odd urge to apologize, to somehow alleviate his frustration with her, which was silly because he was talking to Amber, not her. But knowing that didn’t take away the urge.

He added a candle near her opposite hip and lit it, his eyes dark with concentration. He ran his work-roughened fingers up her outstretched arm, moving it slightly to the right, then stared down at her again. He adjusted her other arm as well, so that her fingers brushed each other high above her head. Then he slid his fingers beneath one of her knees and lifted it slightly.

Everything within her reacted to his touch in a way that shocked her. He was simply a photographer, simply a man doing his job. A man who hardly seemed to notice she was nearly nude—

He slowly rearranged the loose, white material, draping it over her torso, her belly, curling it between her hip and the candle, then over one thigh.

At the touch on her inner leg, she jerked and a sound escaped her, one that sounded…needy.

Lord, she was bad at this, bad at being cool, calm, sophisticated Amber, bad at being so blasé about what he could see of her. Her body hummed again, hummed and ached, and it made her close her eyes.

A slight breeze brought a few drops of rain to hit her face, for which she was grateful. Research. Fun. She was doing one and having the other, she reminded herself. One weekend pretending to be wild and open and sexy. One little weekend.

But really, this had to be the last time she bailed Amber out of trouble.

Her mother would be happy to hear that. Unfortunately, the knowledge was little comfort to her at the moment, lying here in practically nothing.

“Your eyes need to be open for the shot,” Rafe said, and when they flew open to stare at him, his shutter clicked.

People were going to see this—her stretched out so open and vulnerable and…bare. They were going to see it and—

“Remember New Mexico?” He was busy with his camera, not looking at her.

“Well—”

“It was our first shoot together. You were an hour late and hated your costume, so you staged that little tantrum that got me yelled at by the director.”

Sounded like Amber.

“You felt so bad you kissed me when we were done.” He stopped messing with his camera and looked right at her, still at her hip, still so close that now she could see that his eyes weren’t just dark, dark melting-chocolate brown but had little specks of gold in them that danced in the glow from the candles.

Eyes that were now waiting for…something from her.

“You said it would be our tradition,” he said. “Just you and me, and you promised to kiss me after every shoot.”

Oh God.

“You always have followed through on that promise, even when I didn’t want you to. So what I’m wondering now is, why haven’t you kissed me yet?” His vow was low and spellbinding, his eyes so fascinating she couldn’t tear hers away.

Research, she told herself. Simple research. She could lean forward, kiss him and chalk it up to the wild, sexy experience she needed for her script.

Oh, yes, it was quite the sacrifice, but she could do it. Closing her eyes, she waited. And waited.

Finally she opened them again.

Only to find his filled with amusement. “You’re supposed to kiss me, remember?”

Right.

Oh man, Amber, you have no idea what you’re asking of me…

He cocked a brow. “Problem?”

“No—” Her voice cracked, so she cleared her throat and then licked her lips. “No problem.”

His gaze darted to her mouth. “You always were a tease.”

That got her. Tease? Well, tease this…and lifting up, she went after him.

4

IF RAFE HAD HARBORED any doubts about which twin he had, they vanished now. Emma’s eyes were open, wide and unsure as she moved close, and though he felt the urge to laugh at her, he didn’t, because, for whatever stupid reason, he wanted the kiss.

He wanted it from Emma. Unsettling, that.

Her lips touched his, in a short, achingly sweet little kiss that was over before he could blink.

She lay back on the bench, shot him a nervous smile. “There.”

“Yeah. There.” He straightened and tried to collect himself, wondering why, when he’d hoped to catch her red-handed and humiliate her for this little stunt she’d pulled, he felt as though he had just won the lottery?

The storm was messing with his head. So was his need for this shoot to be over. He’d just talked on the phone to his sister Tessa, who was still in such a state of early marital bliss that it had been almost painful to hear. He was happy for her, thrilled she’d found someone to put that joy in her voice and yet, at the same time, it’d left him feeling a little…empty.

Damn.

Time to go home. Past time. “Stretch out,” he demanded, forcing himself to get back to cool and distant. He looked through the lens. God, she was beautiful—the setup, the location, the outfit…Everything was just right.

He knew within two minutes he’d already gotten all the film he needed, but he shot a little bit longer, if only to keep her there sprawled out for his eyes only.

Her nipples were hard. Was she cold…or excited? With Amber he’d had a shot at guessing, but with Emma, he had no idea. He’d teased her with his comments—“remember this” and “remember that”—hoping to startle her out of this ridiculous ruse. But in the end, he’d teased himself, for Emma hadn’t caved.

She did seem to be having trouble breathing and still looked a little wild-eyed, as if uncertain about what he would ask her to remember next.

It made him want to tell her Amber had come to his room for wild sex after every photo shoot.

When he finally set the camera down, she crossed her arms over her body. “Is that it?”

When he nodded, she sat up, still hugging herself. “Can I have my robe?”

He wanted to tell her to walk over and get it, exposing her hot little ass, but even he wasn’t that big of a jerk. He tossed it to her.

When he had his camera in its case and she was completely covered again, he looked at her. She’d done everything he’d asked, including things he shouldn’t have asked, and still a part of him wanted to push her.

“Good shoot.”

With a nod, she started walking, presumably back to the hotel room she’d taken under her sister’s name. He waited until she’d brushed past him before he took her arm, holding her back. “Amber.”

“Y-yes?”

He’d been going to tell her they’d never really kissed, that he knew who she was, but she looked so sweet, so damn unexpectedly sweet, that he got mad all over again.

Walk away, said a little voice. You don’t care. You’re one shoot closer to done. Just walk away.

“Rafe?”

“Nothing.” He let her go, and turned away.

“’Night.”

“’Night.”

By the time he got back to the hotel, she was nowhere to be seen. Just as well.

And when he checked out early and caught a late flight back to Los Angeles, he figured he’d never see her again.

Also, just as well.

EMMA WORKED THE ENTIRE NEXT WEEK around the clock. She’d figured it would be hard to forget Kauai and all that had happened there, but her writing distracted her.

Her writing always did. She nearly forgot to eat and sleep when she buried herself. Well, she nearly forgot to sleep, anyway, because, quite honestly, there was little that could make her forget to eat.

Not even one tall, dark and mouthwatering photographer with a voice that made her pulse leap and a touch that had nearly kicked her heart right out of her chest.

He hadn’t a clue, of course. Which made it worse, somehow. Was she that deprived of a man’s touch that his professional one could send her skittering toward orgasm?

Yes, she had to admit, she was that deprived and it had been self-inflicted. Her work was her life and she’d always told herself it was all she needed.

Still was, she assured herself.

And yet, if it had truly been just work for him, why had he wanted that kiss? Her heart leaped again, as she remembered how warm and firm and yummy his mouth had felt on hers.

Nope, she wasn’t going to go there, wasn’t going to think about him and what the weekend had done to her. How he’d gotten her into the smallest thong on the planet, how she might or might not have blown her cover.

Was it possible he’d guessed the truth?

She had no idea.

But if she thought about it too much, the suspense would kill her, so she didn’t think about it. Besides, what did it matter? She wasn’t going to see him again.

The week went fast. When she wasn’t at the studio making daily last-minute changes on the script for the network Powers-that-be, or in story meetings and staff meetings, she was at home, in her little house in the hills of Laurel Canyon, fingers pounding out page after page on her laptop, ignoring everything and everyone around her.

She had quite the new theme going for her storylines and it excited her so much that she spent most of her time at the keyboard alternating between grinning like an idiot and fanning her hot face as the pages flew out of her.

Apparently Kauai, and everything that had happened, had inspired her.

Ironic that she could thank Amber for helping her for once, however unintentionally. She’d definitely shaken up all the main characters on her show, putting more steamy sex into one week’s worth of stories than she’d put in all year. Her head writer was going to love it. The viewers were going to love it.

She’d even proposed introducing a new main character, a tall, dark and gorgeous photographer who had a voice of silk and a way with his hands—

The phone ringing at her side had her jumping a little and she laughed at herself when she picked it up, assuming it would be someone from the studio to yell, cajole or plead—

“Hey, sis.”

“Amber,” Emma said in surprise. “Boy do I have a lot to say to you.”

“Really? I heard Kauai was a big hit.” She sounded like she was amused.

She was always amused. Amber had that gift, she could find the humor in anything, even when life handed her a bowl of sour grapes, which it had often enough.

“I got word that those shots you took in my place are going to be the best of the bunch so far.”

Not a “thank-you,” not a “great job,” but then, Amber wasn’t known for her gratitude. “I wish you’d been more forthcoming with the details of the shoot.” Emma thought of that filmy white wrap and how many people probably had looked at those shots so far, including Rafe, and felt her face heat.

“If I’d been more forthcoming,” Amber said, “you wouldn’t have covered for me, and I needed you.”

“You always need me.”

“Oh, Emma. You have no idea what I’m going through.”

“Of course not, because I don’t have a life.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Look…” Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. “All I’m saying is, you could have told me I’d have to put on a skimpy little nothing.”

“It was a modeling job. Every modeling job is a skimpy little nothing.”

For Amber, maybe, but pointing that out would just cause a fight, and frankly, Emma didn’t have the energy to spare. The fact was, Amber counted on her because Emma always came through, always took care of everything, and this time, she’d done just that. So she sighed and forced a smile.

“How’s your trip?”

“Perfect. Ricardo is a dreamboat. We went skydiving today, and tomorrow we’re going snorkeling. He just loves it when I put on my bikini and snorkel. But speaking of my trip…” Amber paused.

Not good. Amber was up to something, which never worked out well for Emma. “You know what? I don’t mean to cut this short, but I’m in the middle of a scene…” She clicked her fingers over the keyboard as if typing. “So, I’ve really got to run—”

“You’re always in the middle of a scene. In fact,” Amber said on a laugh, “you work way too hard, sweet sister of mine. Way too hard.”

Something Amber had never bothered to notice before. Emma went on full alert.

“And you know what else? You never take time for yourself. You spend all of your time at your computer or at the studio with some ungrateful executive yelling at you. That’s just not right, Em, you know it isn’t.”

True, but at the moment, she couldn’t concentrate on anything except why her sister suddenly had taken notice of her work habits.

“That’s why I wanted to give you the Kauai job,” Amber said. “So that you could have some time away—”

“Whoa.” Emma leaned back in her chair. “Let’s review the facts. I went to Kauai for you. Okay? Because you called me in tears over this new guy, this new The One guy you couldn’t stand to lose. You said your career counted on this job and you couldn’t back out, but if you didn’t go to the Caribbean with Ricardo, you were going to lose him. So I caved, I went to Kauai and posed for those pictures to help you. Not for time off, because I didn’t actually take time off. I brought my computer—”

“You didn’t!” Amber laughed. “What am I saying? Of course you did. What are you working on for the soap right now? Something good? A murder, or some pivotal character realizing he’s bisexual—No, I know! A housewife has an epiphany—she hates her kids and her husband, right?” Amber laughed again. “You know what I think? You should just have everyone get into one big sex-fest. A big orgy. That’ll take care of all the ratings concerns I’ve been reading about in Soap Digest—”

“We’re doing just fine,” Emma said defensively. “That report was biased because they like ABC’s shows better.”

“I just think hot sex would help, that’s all. Shake the show up a little. You should try it.”

“Well, funny you should say that…” Emma entwined the phone cord in her fingers. “Because in Kauai I came to the same conclusion.”

“What was it, the exotic location or the fabulous cabana boys?”

Your photographer.

“A combination,” she said safely, and put Rafe Delacantro right out of her mind.

Amber put him right back in it. “And the photographer and his assistant, I’ll bet. Neither of them are exactly dogs, are they? Oh man, when I first laid eyes on Rafe, I swear he made my hormones stand up and beg.” She laughed. “And Stone isn’t a slouch in the looks department, either, for all that he’s gay.”

“What?”

Amber sighed. “I know, such a waste. But one night at a party, I came on to him and he declined.”

“That doesn’t make him gay, Amber.”

“Of course it does.”

Emma sighed.

“So about my trip…”

“What about it?” Emma’s wariness was back.

“I was wondering how you felt about Joshua Tree National Park.”

“Huh?”

“Joshua Tree. The desert just east of you?”

“I know where it is, I was just trying to figure out why you’re asking me how I feel about it.”

“Yeah, see, I thought maybe you’d want to go. Maybe experience the great outdoors a little more, and while you were there—”

“Amber—”

“—you could maybe just pose for a few more pictures in my place. Tomorrow. They’re shooting April there.”

“Oh, no—”

“It won’t affect your work,” Amber said quickly. “It’s just Saturday. One day.”

“Amber, I can’t be you again.” She thought a bit desperately of filmy white costumes and being in front of the camera when she hated being in front of the camera, not to mention the strange and inexplicable yearning she couldn’t seem to handle when she was—

“Rafe will be taking the pictures—”

“He’s going to figure it out, Amber.”

“No, he won’t. Look, people see what they want to see. And when they look at me, they see a beautiful, but slightly empty brunette who’s good at one thing and one thing only—posing for pictures. You could do that blindfolded. You could, Emma. You have so much more talent than anything I’ve ever had.”

“That’s not true. Your job is hard, too, in a different way than mine.” Characters forgotten, Emma pushed her laptop away. Elbows on her desk, she rubbed her temples and bit back a sigh. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Well, I’m still in the Caribbean with Ricardo, and—”

Ah, yes, Ricardo. “Can’t you just put Rafe off for a few more days? I mean, why did you sign up for this job in the first place if you want out of it so badly?”

“For the money, for starters.” Amber sighed lustily. “I’ll share it with you, I promise. But it’s more than the cash. This calendar is studio distributed. It’s going to be everywhere, Emmie. Everywhere. It’ll be just the push I need to get a good series or movie this season, I just know it.”

“Then, come back,” Emma said, pitifully close to begging. No one wanted her sister to be successful more than she did. Because if Amber got successful, or at least happy, she’d stop leaning on Emma so much.

Emma could almost hear her mother laughing at that hope. No, Margaret Willis didn’t have much faith in her daughters, either of them, but especially Amber. Emma had no idea if that was because her daughters were so incredibly different from her, in both looks and temperament, or if it was simply that she regretted having children so young and being held back from her career.

In any case, it had been a difficult upbringing. At least Emma used her brain, Margaret often said, having no idea that Emma had chosen to use her brain rather than her beauty simply to please the woman it turned out couldn’t be pleased. Her mother had been so hard on Amber over the years that Emma—the oldest by three minutes—had always felt the need to step in and mediate.

Twenty-six years and she was still doing it.

“Please, Emma? Please won’t you do this for me? Do this so I don’t have to come home right now.”

“Why did you let me think that you and Rafe had a past together?”

“We do.”

“One date isn’t a ‘past.’”

Amber laughed. “Silly me, I probably had a crush on him at the time. Truth is, he wasn’t into me. He’s not into models or anything else Hollywood.”

“So why do you kiss him after each shoot?”

“What?”

Emma was getting a bad feeling here. “So you…don’t kiss him?”

“Of course not. Look, maybe I dated him that one time and maybe I like to mess with him on the set sometimes, but if I was going to kiss anyone, it would be Stone. I mean, my God, have you seen his eyes? If he wasn’t gay…”

“But Rafe—”

“He’s far too into his camera.”

Code for he wasn’t into Amber enough, of course.

So he’d gotten a kiss out of Emma under false pretenses.

What did that mean?

“So, will you do it, Emma? Go as me?”

“No. What’s the costume?”

“Camper girl,” said Amber. “It’ll be full coverage, no doubt. Jeans and a tank, something like that. Please?”

Full coverage, nothing sheer, nothing so outrageously sexy that her every nerve ending quivered.

“Please.”

No. “I don’t know…”

“You won’t regret this,” Amber said in a rush. “You’re the best. I’ll give Rafe’s assistant the number where they can reach you. You posing as me, of course.”

“But I didn’t say I’d—”

The dial tone sounded in her ear.

“—do it,” she finished, then she hung up and stared out the window of her house to the yard she’d neglected so badly that it had become nothing more than overgrown bush. She’d meant to get out there this year, but something had always come up. Work related, of course.

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