recorder either. And why would you care? If you’re at all interested in any of the above, please feel free to call me. Thanks. Um. Good-bye.”
“Damn you, Carter Maguire, for your insanely cute quotient. You should be annoying. Why aren’t I annoyed? Oh God, I’m going to call you back. I know I’m going to call you back. I’m in such trouble.”
Calculating, she decided the odds were strong in her favor that he’d already left for work. She preferred the idea of talking to his answering machine in turn.
When his clicked on she relaxed. Unlike Carter, she was articulate on answering machines. “Carter, Mac. I might like to go out to dinner, or the movies, possibly a play. I have no objection to coffee. How about Friday, as it’s not a school night? Pick the activity and let me know.
“Tag, you’re it.”
See, it doesn’t have to be serious, she reminded herself. I can set the tone. Just having some fun with a perfectly nice guy.
Satisfied, she decided to indulge by working the first hour of her day in her pjs. Nicely on schedule, she dressed and took the consult at the main house, breezed back to her own with time to spare before her shoot.
Her message light blinked at her.
“Uh, it’s Carter again. Is this annoying? I hope it’s not annoying. I happened to check my messages at home on my lunch break. Actually, I made a point to check them in case you called me back. Which you did. I’m afraid I have a faculty dinner to attend Friday. I’d invite you but if you accepted and attended, you’d never go out with me again. I’d rather not risk it. If another night would do, even—ha ha—a school night, I’d like very much to take you out. If you’d like that, maybe we could do dinner and a movie. Is that too much? It’s probably too much. I’m confusing myself. I’d like to add, though it may not seem possible, I have asked women out before.
“I guess this makes you it.”
She grinned, as she’d grinned throughout the message. “Okay, Carter, try this one on.” She punched Call Back, waited for the beep. “Hi, Professor, guess who this is? I appreciate being shielded from the faculty dinner. Showing both good sense and chivalry has earned you points. How about Saturday night? Why don’t we start with dinner and see where it goes? You can pick me up at seven.
“And, yes, this makes you it again to confirm.”
In the best of moods, Mac switched on some music, dropped down at her computer. She sang along as she reviewed her upcoming client’s wedding shots. As possibilities and angles ran through her mind, she made notes. She clicked back through her files to see what equipment, what lighting, what techniques she’d used on the bridal portraits.
Considering the client’s olive complexion, the dark hair, the deep brown, exotic eyes, Mac chose an ivory drop. And remembering the client as just a little shy, just a bit demure, Mac decided to save what she thought could be the money shot until after she’d warmed mom-to-be up a little.
But she could prepare for it. She grabbed the phone, hitting the button for Emma as she opened the door to what she considered her prop room. “Hey, I need a bag of red rose petals. I’ve got a client coming any minute or I’d come down and steal them myself. Can you run them up here? And maybe, just in case, a couple of long-stemmed reds? They can be silk. Thanks. Bye.”
Juiced, she checked the bright pink tackle box she used for professional makeup, then switched the music to a New-Agey CD she thought suited the shoot. She was adjusting the backlight when Emma came in.
“You didn’t say what color red roses. It does matter, you know.”
“Not so much for this. And I can always manipulate them in Photoshop. Besides . . .” She walked over to take the ones Emma held. “Perfect.”
“The rose petals are real, so—”
“I’ll charge them off. Listen, since you’re here, can you stand in? You’ve got close to the same coloring, and
“Damn you, Carter Maguire, for your insanely cute quotient. You should be annoying. Why aren’t I annoyed? Oh God, I’m going to call you back. I know I’m going to call you back. I’m in such trouble.”
Calculating, she decided the odds were strong in her favor that he’d already left for work. She preferred the idea of talking to his answering machine in turn.
When his clicked on she relaxed. Unlike Carter, she was articulate on answering machines. “Carter, Mac. I might like to go out to dinner, or the movies, possibly a play. I have no objection to coffee. How about Friday, as it’s not a school night? Pick the activity and let me know.
“Tag, you’re it.”
See, it doesn’t have to be serious, she reminded herself. I can set the tone. Just having some fun with a perfectly nice guy.
Satisfied, she decided to indulge by working the first hour of her day in her pjs. Nicely on schedule, she dressed and took the consult at the main house, breezed back to her own with time to spare before her shoot.
Her message light blinked at her.
“Uh, it’s Carter again. Is this annoying? I hope it’s not annoying. I happened to check my messages at home on my lunch break. Actually, I made a point to check them in case you called me back. Which you did. I’m afraid I have a faculty dinner to attend Friday. I’d invite you but if you accepted and attended, you’d never go out with me again. I’d rather not risk it. If another night would do, even—ha ha—a school night, I’d like very much to take you out. If you’d like that, maybe we could do dinner and a movie. Is that too much? It’s probably too much. I’m confusing myself. I’d like to add, though it may not seem possible, I have asked women out before.
“I guess this makes you it.”
She grinned, as she’d grinned throughout the message. “Okay, Carter, try this one on.” She punched Call Back, waited for the beep. “Hi, Professor, guess who this is? I appreciate being shielded from the faculty dinner. Showing both good sense and chivalry has earned you points. How about Saturday night? Why don’t we start with dinner and see where it goes? You can pick me up at seven.
“And, yes, this makes you it again to confirm.”
In the best of moods, Mac switched on some music, dropped down at her computer. She sang along as she reviewed her upcoming client’s wedding shots. As possibilities and angles ran through her mind, she made notes. She clicked back through her files to see what equipment, what lighting, what techniques she’d used on the bridal portraits.
Considering the client’s olive complexion, the dark hair, the deep brown, exotic eyes, Mac chose an ivory drop. And remembering the client as just a little shy, just a bit demure, Mac decided to save what she thought could be the money shot until after she’d warmed mom-to-be up a little.
But she could prepare for it. She grabbed the phone, hitting the button for Emma as she opened the door to what she considered her prop room. “Hey, I need a bag of red rose petals. I’ve got a client coming any minute or I’d come down and steal them myself. Can you run them up here? And maybe, just in case, a couple of long-stemmed reds? They can be silk. Thanks. Bye.”
Juiced, she checked the bright pink tackle box she used for professional makeup, then switched the music to a New-Agey CD she thought suited the shoot. She was adjusting the backlight when Emma came in.
“You didn’t say what color red roses. It does matter, you know.”
“Not so much for this. And I can always manipulate them in Photoshop. Besides . . .” She walked over to take the ones Emma held. “Perfect.”
“The rose petals are real, so—”
“I’ll charge them off. Listen, since you’re here, can you stand in? You’ve got close to the same coloring, and
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