told David she wanted the videos to look real, she didn’t need the client to see her in her current frazzled, haven’t-looked-in-a-mirror-in-four-days state.
After three hours at the salon, getting her hair blown out, eyebrows waxed, nails manicured and face professionally made up, she was feeling much better.
Especially since she had every intention of billing it all to the agency. Now all she needed was a few outfit changes and she’d be all set. The scripts she’d written called for both yoga pants and exotic lingerie.
The yoga pants she had. But the other scenes called for a visit to her favorite lingerie boutique. She hoped David had been billing their clients regularly, because this trip was going to cost him.
She wandered around the store, looking at frilly pink confections, slinky red gowns, and black lace fantasies, unable to decide which would be best. Finally she decided to just try them all on.
Once in the fitting room, she was struck by an idea that she knew was both awesome and completely evil. Since she couldn’t decide what to buy, she’d snap pics and send them to Mark.
After all, he was the art director. It was only fitting that he be in charge of wardrobe. Before she could talk herself out of it Becky took a picture of herself in a slinky red gown and composed a message to send to Mark.
Can’t decide what wardrobe choices to buy for the shoot, she texted. Should I get this one?
After hitting Send, she quickly changed into the next outfit and prepared to repeat the exercise. But before she could even take the picture, her phone pinged with Mark’s return text.
Hell, yes.
She grinned and sent the next picture.
How about this?
Please do.
After sending the third picture, she sat back and admired her reflection. The push-up cups in the black lace chemise made her breasts look huge...making her waist look tiny by comparison. Her hair was thicker than she’d ever seen it, and her face practically glowed under the makeup.
She might not be a porn star, but she looked pretty damn good.
Finally, her phone pinged.
GET THEM ALL, his text read.
Her veins buzzed with triumph. Hopefully, he was sincerely regretting his hasty decision to end the physical side of their relationship right now. He certainly would be by the time the night was over if she had anything to say about it.
SEVEN
Mark drummed his fingers impatiently on the glass tabletop. Everything was ready for the shoot. Now all he needed was for his talent to show up. Hopefully with her clothes on.
He’d chosen to rent a suite instead of a hotel room. He’d told himself that it was so they’d have plenty of space to set up their equipment, but if he was being honest he knew it was so he’d have somewhere to retreat if the temptation to touch her got to be too much.
Lord knew the pictures she’d sent this afternoon had been enough to get him rock hard. She looked like something out of his fantasies, her innocently mischievous expression contrasting wildly with the siren’s body underneath. He was certain better men than him would fall victim to the silent promise in every pixel of those images.
But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
If he touched her again he wouldn’t be able to stop. And if he didn’t stop touching her, their hearts would get involved. And then, if he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself with a life full of... His mind showed him pictures of weddings and babies and laughing families. But he shook his head, rejecting the images.
It would all end in heartbreak. Even if they made it to the altar, love never lasted. She’d get bored, find someone better and wealthier, and he’d end up crushed. It was better not to go there in the first place.
He jumped at the sudden knock on the door.
Becky had arrived. After taking a moment to push all his inappropriate emotions back into the box where they belonged, Mark opened the door.
And felt lust roaring to life all over again.
Gone was the fresh-faced woman he
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