Maximum Exposure by Alison Kent - Smithson Group SG-5 10 - Maximum Exposure Page B

she wanted, she turned to face him.
    But she didn’t let him go. “Hiring you was my idea, yes. But I hadn’t had a chance to run it by Dustin yet, even though you and I talked about it more than once. I wanted to feel him out, see what concerns he might have.”
    The muscle in Finn’s jaw pulsed. He stared at the framed portrait rather than meeting her gaze. “Do you think he would have thrown us together if he had doubts?”
    “He might have. If he wanted to see how we clicked.”
    “Chemistry.”
    “I seem to remember mentioning that before.”
    He nodded. “You did.”
    “And now that Dustin’s brought it up…”
    “You’ve been vindicated.” Finn pulled his fingers from hers, stuffed his hands in his pockets.
    Vindicated? Was that how he saw it? That she needed a third party’s validation to prove her instincts right? “I’m not looking to have anything vindicated. I’m quite confident in my own decisions.”
    Finn snorted.
    “Look. I understand your frustration—”
    “No, Olivia. You don’t. There’s no way you can.”
    She took a deep breath, tried again. “I don’t like being manipulated, either—”
    “That’s not what’s frustrating me.”
    “Then what—”
    “Your dress.”
    “What?”
    “Your dress. Your dress is frustrating me.”
    “Oh.” She hadn’t thought about what she was wearing for several minutes now. She hadn’t known Finn would be here tonight, so hadn’t chosen it with him in mind.
    It was simply a dress that seemed to fit the occasion, a showing at a gallery that exhibited erotic art. It was also a dress she loved. She especially liked the way the fabric flowed, as thin as tissue paper, as opaque as frosted glass. “I’m glad you like it.”
    A smile ticked at the corners of his mouth. “That wasn’t exactly what I said.”
    “Then you’ll be glad to know I wore it because I like it, and because it’s not something I can wear just anywhere.”
    “Good. I’d hate to think you wore it to get me to do what you want.”
    She didn’t like having the choices she made in her dealings with others reduced to such a crass accusation. “I have a feeling we’re more alike than you care to admit.”
    “How so?”
    “Neither one of us allows outside influences to impact our decisions.”
    “True enough, though there’s still a big difference between us.”
    “Which is?”
    “I don’t use my body to get my way.”
    She was through trying to make him understand, or even to get him to accept. All she could hope for at this point was that he’d see how things were for himself while taking the photos Dustin wanted.
    “Do you want to talk about the project?”
    “Here? Now?”
    She was game, but if he had reservations…“Would you rather meet in my office, make an appointment? Do you want Dustin in on the planning stages, since this is all his idea?”
    “We can do that, sure, if that’s what you want,” he said, not seeming enthused by her suggestions.
    Was he so confident that he assumed things would work themselves out without looking closely at the particulars? Was this how he did all of his business? Diving in and hoping things fell into place?
    “You don’t think this needs to be planned?” she finally asked, remembering their first conversation, his casual nonchalance, which she’d known even then hid a sharp wit and keen mind.
    He stepped back, considered her from head to toe. “What I think, no…What I wish is that I had my camera with me tonight. That I’d had it with me that night at Cigar Paolo.”
    “You’re thinking spontaneity. Which is great, by the way. I get it. But I don’t think it’s practical for you to follow me twenty-four seven.”
    He was following her now. Circling her. Walking around her and looking at her, at her dress. At her. “Not twenty-four seven, no. I was thinking more along the lines of me following you without you knowing about it.”
    “And how would that work exactly? If I didn’t know you were