Sheer Decadence

Lifting his gaze to the television set above the bar that was broadcasting the day’s sports highlights, Justin waited for his chance to order. He’d drink to getting his life back. Tomorrow, his nineteen-year-old-sister Andrea would leave for a prestigious cooking school in Europe. His obligation would be fulfilled.

When his parents had been killed in a boating accident shortly after his twenty-second birthday, Justin had taken on the unexpected responsibility of raising his two sisters. A decade older than Andrea, with Lisa in the middle, he’d made a lot of unplanned changes to his young bachelor life to set a good example and supplement the life insurance settlement to provide for his sisters. He loved them both dearly, but over the years, whenever the situation had been especially stressful, he’d repeatedly vowed that as soon as he had the house to himself, he would make up for lost time.

That started tomorrow. Lisa was in a co-op program at Auburn, with a job lined up after next year’s graduation, and now Andy was headed abroad.

A woman shuffling a round plastic tray jostled him. “Hey, handsome. Don’t usually see you in here so late.”

He smiled at the blond waitress—Natalie, if he recalled correctly. “I had something to celebrate.”

“You’ll be here all night if you wait on Kurt.” She nodded to the other side of the room where the bartender was taking his time mixing a drink for an attractive patron. “Have a seat in my section, and I’ll bring something over.”

Justin asked for a draft beer, then chose an empty booth against the wall. His future loomed promising and new, devoid of helping anyone with homework, having awkward discussions about dating or attending sports events and milestone ceremonies that their parents should have been here to see.

Natalie sauntered up to his table with a full frosty mug. “So what are we celebrating?”

The freedom to walk around at home stark naked if he felt like it, the freedom not to worry that he was a lousy day-to-day role model. “New job.”

Freelance photography hadn’t been dependable enough for a man raising two sisters and the travel that had excited him became an obstacle. He’d taken a job in design at Hilliard, but had jumped at the chance to join Sweet Nothings now that they were expanding. On-staff photographers were costly, and Justin, though his portfolio displayed his talent, lacked the experience other candidates could have used to negotiate more money.

“Good for you,” Natalie congratulated him. “Drink’s on the house, then.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, knowing “on the house” probably meant out of her pocket.

“Honey, you’d be surprised what I pull down in tips. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a good-looking woman,” she said with a grin.

“Trust me, I noticed. I’m guessing your boss would object to your sharing a drink with me right now…maybe another time?”

“Ah, but see, that my boyfriend would object to.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” He lifted the mug. “Then I’m no longer celebrating. I’m officially drowning my sorrows.”

She laughed. “Beer’s nice and multipurpose that way. Don’t worry, a guy who looks like you won’t be lonely long. You never know,” she added before moving toward the next table, “maybe you’ll meet someone at this new job.”

Olivia Lockhart’s face came to mind, but he banished it immediately. Never gonna happen. Despite finding their way to friendlier ground in the breakroom yesterday and chatting amiably in the parking garage this morning, he still couldn’t imagine Olivia agreeing to meet him for drinks. She’d find a polite way to turn him down, then avoid him around the office.

“Hey, buddy.” Bryan Tanner, rumpled and grinning as ever, slid in on the other side of the booth, making quick eye contact with Natalie as she passed.

Justin nodded in greeting. “What’s with the lumberjack look?”

His dark-haired friend didn’t truly look like a lumberjack, but the flannel shirt and unshaven stubble along his jaw invited taunting. Heckling each other unofficially cemented their friendship, and since Bryan so often won by default of actually having a life, Justin took his shots where he could get them.

“Go ahead, make fun if you want,” Bryan said with a sly smile, “but the ladies love the casual look.”

The ladies obviously loved something because Justin’s friend never hurt for dates.

Bryan did lucrative contract work setting up network systems all over the country, but between jobs, he roosted in Atlanta. While Justin would never come out and say anything so touchy-feely, he was grateful for the way his friend had stayed in contact despite the traveling. Other ex-college buddies had drifted off sooner, unable to relate to Justin’s sudden domestic crises and raising two young women in the suburbs. Watching Bryan bounce around from place to place, coming home to a different woman each visit, Justin had often envied his friend’s life.

“I don’t get it.” Justin shook his head. “You’re a glorified computer nerd. Do you pay women to spend time with you, or are they compelled by pity?”

Bryan grinned. “It’s all that talk about my hardware. Master and slave drives are nice openers, too.”

Natalie edged up to the table with a bottle of Bryan’s regular beer.

“Thank you, sweet thing. Tell me you aren’t still seeing that boyfriend of yours.”

“Afraid I am.” Natalie smiled at her favorite customer. “And he could still kick your ass, in case that was your next question.”

Justin laughed. “Oh, yeah, that’s quite the way with women you have, Bry.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting flack from you,” Bryan complained as the waitress moved away. “The Dateless Wonder.”

An exaggeration, but one with more truth than he would have liked. “Dateless no more. As of tomorrow, you are looking at a man free to accept room keys from hot models.”

“Well, hell, I’ll drink to that.”

Since Justin had done everything possible to make sure his sisters didn’t discover sex until their twenties—or preferably, never—it had seemed wrong to spend his nights elsewhere or to sneak women into the house. There had been one or two relationships, of course, and the occasional weekend when both his sisters were gone, but overall, his love life had not been the stuff a man in his twenties dreams about.

Now, with thirty looming at the end of the month, he had definite plans to make the most of his bachelorhood. He needed some time to focus on himself and not be responsible to or for anyone. He could make dinner plans with a woman without checking the family calendar to see if he was obligated to be anywhere, he could have women over any night of the week.

“So, you gonna introduce me to some of these hot models?” Bryan asked.

“Not a chance,” Justin said with a laugh. “In case there is a woman in the 404 area code you haven’t dated yet, I’d like to meet her first.”

Sweet Nothings was his opportunity for a fresh start. At Hilliard, he’d been the guy who’d missed work when Lisa had her wisdom teeth pulled, the guy who’d taken Andy to the office Christmas party when her loser boyfriend dumped her right at the holidays. But now he was simply Justin Hawthorne, single photographer.

Bryan stood. “C’mon, you said something about a pool game. Try not to cry like a little girl when I take your money.”

“Give it your best shot. I’ll even let you break, but I gotta warn you, I’m feeling pretty lucky.”

Andrea and Lisa were both happy and succeeding on their chosen paths, he loved his new job, and he’d reached a good understanding with Olivia yesterday. Even if she wasn’t interested in celebrating his newfound freedom with him, that didn’t mean he couldn’t make the most out of working side by side with her. And there were plenty of other mermaids in the sea.

Tomorrow he left for a beach shoot with lingerie models. How much better did one guy’s life get?

No complications, he promised himself.

JEANIE STOOD in Olivia’s office early Thursday morning, theoretically helping with a last-minute check to make sure Olivia wasn’t forgetting anything. In reality, she was mooning over Justin, who had peeked his head in a second ago to tell Olivia he was ready when she was.

“Isn’t he delicious?” The receptionist sighed. “The man is practically edible.”

Olivia wouldn’t mind Justin at her dinner table—with his head on a platter.

“I bumped into him outside Steve’s office this morning,” Jeanie confided, “and, for a second, I thought he was flirting with me. Much nicer pick-me-up than coffee!”

He probably had been flirting with her. The skunk. “I thought you were in love with Albert.”

“I am. But even I have to admit, he’s no Justin.”

Exactly! The Justins of the world were the sexy men women sighed over…and later cried over. The Alberts of the world were the reliable ones who paid bills on time and never cheated on their wives. Once her promotion was in the bag, Olivia would find herself a nice solid Albert.

Last night, she’d gone home to torture herself with the image of Justin in that restaurant with the blonde. She’d also entertained fantasies of confronting him, but that would be like yelling at a leopard about its spots. Pointless.

Though she was entitled to her righteous indignation, fighting with Justin would only be counterproductive. Those up for promotion practiced good people skills and didn’t antagonize Steve’s newest office favorite. Besides, she and Justin needed to cooperate to have a decent shoot. She was adult enough to work with the man and ignore his tawdry personal life.

The receptionist zipped up the laptop in its black carry bag. “Think you’re all set, Liv.”

Olivia bit down on her tongue. It wasn’t the younger woman’s fault that the nickname had spread.

“Your cell phone is charged,” Jeanie continued, “and that’s all the files you asked for. Justin has the keys to the company car, and I had one of the guys transfer your suitcase to the trunk.”

“Thanks, Jeanie.” Olivia picked up her coat and folded it over her arm. “Have a great weekend.”

Reaching the elevator just as the doors were closing, she quickened her steps. “Wait! Hold the elevator, please.”

The silver doors slid back, revealing Justin Hawthorne, an appealing masculine picture in his leather bomber jacket and well-fitting khaki slacks.

“Hey.” He grinned. “I was going to get the map out of my car, then come back upstairs and chauvinistically harass you about how long it takes women to get ready.”

Her jaw tightened. No doubt he thought his teasing was cute.

At her pinched expression, Justin reached out and touched her shoulder. “You feeling all right this morning?”

The cotton that separated his hand from her bare flesh seemed to enhance his touch rather than protect her from it. “Fine. Thank you.” Why didn’t knowing what kind of man he was stop the zing that zipped through her?

It was just the elevator, she assured herself as she scooted slightly out of reach. The enclosed space forced her to stand so close she could feel the warmth of his body and breathe in his unique personal scent, which she already knew too well. Steamy scenes from different movies flashed through her mind, and she wondered why she’d never noticed how sensual elevators were before.

Stop it. You’ve learned from your mistakes, remember? Fantasizing about sex with Justin against the elevator wall was not the sign of a wiser woman. If nothing else, the blinking red light of the security camera mounted in the corner brought her back to reality.

The elevator wobbled slightly as it finished its descent, and the doors parted. Olivia stepped forward purposefully. Justin followed, lifting a key ring and unlocking the company car with an audible beep.

Hours together loomed ahead, but she could handle the ride. Speak to him only when necessary and ignore him the rest of the time.

Whenever that got difficult, she’d remind herself of how he’d smiled and complimented her in the break room the other day and how, for a brief moment, she’d been foolish enough to imagine a real connection between them.

4

SINCE MICROMANAGING was not part of her leadership style, Olivia stood to the side, shoes kicked off, the sand cool and smooth beneath her bare feet. Though intermittently windy, especially here by the water, it was a beautiful day—unseasonably warm, if still a little chilly for the bathing suits they were photographing. Squinting against the sand-flecked breeze, Justin took the white diffusion dome from an assistant and measured the light with a handheld flashmeter.

Olivia’s personal feelings about him notwithstanding, he’d been doing a great job. She watched him adjust an aluminum reflector to modify the way sunlight fell across Stormy.

While none of Sweet Nothings’ models was a famous Frederique or Tyra, several of them were becoming increasingly well known, and the hotel staff was excited to be hosting such a glamorous endeavor on its private stretch of beach. Like their bigger competitors, such as the notable Victoria’s Secret, Sweet Nothings was taking what it knew about push-up bras and tummy-flattering panels and applying it to sexy swimwear.

Stormy and Felicia posed in daring suits while everyone else wore clothes more appropriate to the early-spring weather. Resplendent in a bright red string bikini, Stormy was blond with eyes that actually were the gray-violet of storm clouds, thanks to the modern miracle of colored contacts. Chestnut-haired, green-eyed Felicia wore a blue one-piece with so many cutouts and straps that she managed to reveal as much flesh as her counterpart. Both women were perfectly, if artificially, tanned.

The sirens of old lured men with their songs, but you won’t need to sing a note to catch his attention while wearing one of our signature bathing suits.

Unable to shake her copywriting roots, Olivia dreamed up ad passages while Justin took picture after picture, first with a digital camera, then a traditional one. She couldn’t help noticing that Felicia put a little extra something into her smiles. And why not? Justin had been openly admiring her since the shoot had begun.

I don’t care that he flirts with models.

But indifference shouldn’t burn and stick in her throat. When Justin stopped to reload film and the models stepped behind the portable changing screens to don the next preselected suits, Olivia stole a moment for herself, strolling away a few feet. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the salty musk of sea and sand, hoping to dispel her fixation with the photographer who was as adept at charming women as he was at snapping pictures.

THOUGH Justin was looking through the viewfinder of his camera, he knew the moment Olivia started across the beach. His involuntary awareness of the woman was unshakable.

In the car, she’d been almost stiffly businesslike. He’d tried not to let this newest shift bother him. Today was about business. But after they’d arrived here, and he’d seen how friendly she was with others…

Earlier, Justin had been both distracted and annoyed by Olivia laughing with Rick, a makeup artist who freely admitted he’d gone into this line of business to be around beautiful women. Olivia certainly qualified. Probably in deference to the wind, she’d pulled her hair up today, somehow containing all of it in one of those toothy plastic clips that defy the laws of physics. The feminine curve of her neck and elegant features of her face were impossible to miss. Justin could no more ignore her than he could understand why he was the only one on the receiving end of her all-work-no-play demeanor.

So many things about Olivia contradicted each other—her confident professionalism and the occasional vulnerability he thought he glimpsed in her gaze, the moments of awareness that had simmered between them, only to be replaced by aloofness, the way she kidded with those on her crew but kept her responses to Justin on a speak-when-spoken-to basis.

Maybe his perverse preoccupation with her was just a determination to solve the mystery of her behavior, but he couldn’t resist reeling her back in as she wandered toward the water. “How much more do you want out here?”

They’d discussed in the car that he should also take some shots at the hotel’s heated indoor pool where the lighting was easier to control and the water warmed.

Olivia walked back toward him while the models had their makeup retouched. “We should get as much as we can this afternoon. Rick said there’s a cold front moving in tonight, which makes tomorrow perfect for the inside stuff.”

Once again, though there was nothing openly antagonistic in her words or expression, she seemed to stare through him more than see him. A frustration Justin didn’t normally encounter with the opposite sex filled him. He was self-aware enough to know most women found him attractive. There had even been moments when he would have sworn Olivia did.

But what did he know? Because he’d also believed they’d reached a turning point in their working relationship, and today had dispelled that myth.

Now wasn’t the time to pursue the issue, though. Felicia and Stormy headed down the beach, ready for the single round of shots that would take place in the water.

“Gorgeous,” he told Felicia as she frolicked in knee-deep surf. “Men will hyperventilate when they see this.”

“They’d better.” She pursed her lush lips in a mock pout. “This water is freezing.”

He recalled how closely Olivia had been standing earlier to Rick of the bleached white teeth. Why had Justin been paying attention to that instead of focusing more on the invitation in Felicia’s smiles? The model was playful and flirtatious, the type who would enjoy herself during a fling but not take it too seriously afterward.

“Don’t worry,” he promised her. “I’ll get you warmed up as soon as this is over.”

Her meadow-green eyes widened. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“What about me?” Stormy demanded, throwing her head back and pausing as he snapped a picture. “I’m cold, too.”

“No guy with working eyesight could forget you,” he said. “And don’t worry I’ve got plenty of…coffee and blankets to go around.”

Stormy laughed. Not to be ignored, Felicia upped her vamping for the camera. Damn, but he was getting some great shots. The next two hours flew by, and Justin’s love of photography temporarily eclipsed his tension.

As soon as they were finished and he was packing up his cameras, however, Olivia rushed back to the forefront of his mind. Though she was discussing something with one of the crew, her gunmetal-gray eyes were zeroed in on Justin, the disapproval in them canceling out the warmth of the afternoon sun.

Now what?

He’d been flirting, but it hadn’t been with her, so she couldn’t object this time. If Stormy and Felicia weren’t complaining, where was the problem? The results, caught on film, would benefit everyone at Sweet Nothings.

“We got some great work done today,” Olivia told the assembled group. “Enjoy your evening, but remember we have an early start, so don’t make it a late night.”

Was he getting paranoid, or did she aim that at him?

He stalked toward her, wanting answers. “May I talk to you?”

“Um, sure. Just not now. I’m feeling kind of gritty and want to get cleaned up. We’ve got a private dinner buffet in one of the dining rooms. Talk there?”

Before he could answer—hell, before she’d even finished her question—she pivoted on her heel and headed toward the hotel. The feeling that he’d been summarily dismissed grated on the one nerve he had left regarding that woman.

“Nice shoot.” Felicia sidled up to him, wrapped in an oversize towel. “You’re good.”

He managed to subdue his anger with Olivia long enough to respond. “Thanks, but my job’s easy when I have models like you and Stormy to work with.”

She inclined her head in gracious acknowledgment of the praise. “Any plans after dinner? I was thinking about checking out that indoor pool area before tomorrow. You know, like research. I understand there’s a hot tub. And you did offer to make sure I got warm again.”

“I—” Realizing that his bad mood had almost led to passing up hot-tubbing with a lingerie model, he mentally kicked himself. Was he insane? “Sure. Hitting the hot tub sounds great.” Yet not as great as it should.

Olivia’s fault. She had him so ticked off that he couldn’t fully enjoy what any man in his right mind would recognize as paradise. Which just ticked him off even more.

She might have postponed their conversation, but he and Olivia Lockhart were going to get this settled. Very soon.

OLIVIA LEFT the dining room, the soles of her canvas shoes thudding against the lobby’s marble floor as she tried to ignore her sense of guilt. Maybe it was just her dark sweater and jeans that made her feel like a thief sneaking away in the night. She’d come down for a quick bite to eat, and having accomplished that, she was now returning to her room—without having that discussion Justin had wanted. Was it her fault if he’d been too busy talking to Stormy to notice Olivia?

Okay, so she’d slunk into the room after she’d known everyone else would already be there and had only stayed long enough to gobble down half a salad before leaving while he was still otherwise occupied, but the principle of the thing was the same. Sort of.

Stopping at the elevator bay, she pressed the up button and waited. One day down, one left, then she’d be back home, not standing on a beach forced to spend hour after hour watching her sexy photographer.

You don’t think he’s sexy, you think he’s a jerk.

A sexy jerk.

Inside the elevator, she punched the number for the appropriate floor and rolled her eyes inwardly at the orchestral intro to a made-for-elevators remix of an old Police tune. As the doors began to slide closed, a hand shot between them, followed by an arm in a long-sleeved gray shirt she unfortunately recognized. The doors sprang back, and Justin Hawthorne entered, his expression triggering an automatic uh-oh inside her.

Blond brows scrunched together in a scowl, eyes hard as emeralds, he did not look happy.

Now that the doors were open, she glanced out in the lobby, hoping for someone else who needed to go upstairs. Luck wasn’t with her, but one would think she’d be used to that.

“Wh-which floor do you need?” she asked. Darn it, she hadn’t meant to sound all breathy, as though she were nervous. Or, worse, attracted to him. She stoutly refused to be either. Number fourteen was already lit, but she wished she had an excuse to hit three and leave sooner.

“I’ll just ride up with you.” He made it sound like a challenge. “We were supposed to have a chat, remember?”

His accusatory stance and the way he crossed his arms over his chest set her teeth on edge.

“I remember that I was supposed to be headed off on vacation tomorrow.” Though she’d sworn not to broach this topic, bringing it up made her feel better, as if suddenly she could breathe more deeply. She wasn’t the type to be quietly wronged.

“Vacation? Is that why you’re being so uptight?”

He was criticizing her?

She jabbed her index finger into his chest, hating that she noticed how tightly muscled it was. “I’m sorry if you’ve confused my adult restraint with being uptight, but not all of us have to hit on every member of the opposite sex we encounter.”

“Every member?” Green flame flared in his eyes. “When was I hitting on you? Or is that the problem—jealous, Liv?”

Men and their egos! “Try relieved. I’d hate to be like Kate or that cute little blonde at the restaurant and get suckered in by your—”

“Blonde? Restaurant?”

The words avalanched out of her, her tone growing colder with each syllable. “The ritzy one downtown, where I saw you and the blonde in the black dress on your date last night. You know, the date that was so important you inconvenienced my life without so much as a second thought. Since when is wining and dining someone—”

He pressed a finger to her lips, and Olivia gasped in surprise, startled by the heat of his skin. She felt branded.