hair. “Can’t you see all the freckles? I’d hardly say that’s flawless. More like blemished.”
“Freckles are not blemishes.” Allan chuckled softly. “They’re like thousands of beauty marks, especially on you.”
Hannah lowered her head more, her mouth suddenly dry, unsure of what to say. “Um…thank you,” she murmured.
Allan cleared his throat. “I brought my portfolio in. Do you want to see some of my pictures?”
Grateful for the distraction, Hannah sucked in a deep breath and snapped her gaze up again. “Yes, I’d love to.”
He slipped a large leather case onto the table. She hadn’t even noticed he’d carried it in with him, opening her mouth to say that when he unzipped it and flopped it open to the most stunning close-up of Mayhem. She gasped as she leaned forward, mesmerized by the sparkle highlighted in Mayhem’s eyes. It was as if he was right there staring at her. “Beautiful!”
Allan turned the book fully to face her and flipped it to the beginning.
It started with a few shots of other musicians, ones she really didn’t recognize—nice photos—but the shots of Riot were what had her riveted. There were hundreds of them.
“This is quite a collection.” She smiled as she flipped from one photo to the next.
There were pictures of Mayhem on stage, screaming into the mic, some of him signing autographs, others of him walking down the street. All were candid shots, and Hannah was pretty sure that Mayhem hadn’t posed for any, seemingly unaware that the camera was on him. It was obviously the best way to capture the man. His personality blasting through each and every picture. Strong, confident, and very, very male. It was breathtaking and Hannah’s heart raced just looking at him. It spoke to Allan’s talent as a photographer. She could see why Mayhem hired him.
She flipped to the next batch to find more of the rest of the band. “You’ve been their photographer for a while then?”
Allan took a sip of his wine and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been studying them for years. Captivating subjects.” He caught her eye and smiled. “Not as captivating as you though, Hannah.” He reached across the table and ran his fingers over her hand. “I’d love to take your picture one day. Would you ever consider posing for me?”
The way he said it held a suggestion of something more, a deeper meaning that had her blushing once again. She pulled her hand back with a shy smile. “There’s nothing special about me.” She shrugged. “Besides, you’ve got your subject. It’s Mayhem that we need to focus on.”
Allan shook his head as he sat back in his chair. “I beg to disagree. Nothing special, with that hair? Those eyes? You’d light my camera on fire!” He shook his head again. “I’ll just have to show you, really show you, how you look under the lens.”
Hannah giggled quietly, her face growing warmer. “Well…”
Allan moved to pour her more wine and she put her hand over the top of her glass.
“Oh no, I think I’ve had enough. As it is, I might have some trouble on the flight.” She pushed her chair back with a little effort, her body feeling very comfortable staying put. “I’m going to use the washroom and then I really need to be going.”
Allan nodded, his smile fading as fast as it had come. “Of course. I’ll get the bill and we’ll head out.”
Hannah nodded as she stood, swinging her purse over her shoulder and steadying herself on the back of the chair. Whoa, there, girl. Way too much wine. She chuckled to herself, not really knowing what had gotten into her. She was so not a drinker and had only ever been drunk a couple of times in her life. She wasn’t drunk now, but definitely not sober either. With a small shake of her head, she made her way through the intimate dining suites to the ladies room, pulling out her phone as she did.
Once inside she hit Mayhem’s number again and cleared her throat, hoping to heck that she didn’t sound as tipsy
“Freckles are not blemishes.” Allan chuckled softly. “They’re like thousands of beauty marks, especially on you.”
Hannah lowered her head more, her mouth suddenly dry, unsure of what to say. “Um…thank you,” she murmured.
Allan cleared his throat. “I brought my portfolio in. Do you want to see some of my pictures?”
Grateful for the distraction, Hannah sucked in a deep breath and snapped her gaze up again. “Yes, I’d love to.”
He slipped a large leather case onto the table. She hadn’t even noticed he’d carried it in with him, opening her mouth to say that when he unzipped it and flopped it open to the most stunning close-up of Mayhem. She gasped as she leaned forward, mesmerized by the sparkle highlighted in Mayhem’s eyes. It was as if he was right there staring at her. “Beautiful!”
Allan turned the book fully to face her and flipped it to the beginning.
It started with a few shots of other musicians, ones she really didn’t recognize—nice photos—but the shots of Riot were what had her riveted. There were hundreds of them.
“This is quite a collection.” She smiled as she flipped from one photo to the next.
There were pictures of Mayhem on stage, screaming into the mic, some of him signing autographs, others of him walking down the street. All were candid shots, and Hannah was pretty sure that Mayhem hadn’t posed for any, seemingly unaware that the camera was on him. It was obviously the best way to capture the man. His personality blasting through each and every picture. Strong, confident, and very, very male. It was breathtaking and Hannah’s heart raced just looking at him. It spoke to Allan’s talent as a photographer. She could see why Mayhem hired him.
She flipped to the next batch to find more of the rest of the band. “You’ve been their photographer for a while then?”
Allan took a sip of his wine and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been studying them for years. Captivating subjects.” He caught her eye and smiled. “Not as captivating as you though, Hannah.” He reached across the table and ran his fingers over her hand. “I’d love to take your picture one day. Would you ever consider posing for me?”
The way he said it held a suggestion of something more, a deeper meaning that had her blushing once again. She pulled her hand back with a shy smile. “There’s nothing special about me.” She shrugged. “Besides, you’ve got your subject. It’s Mayhem that we need to focus on.”
Allan shook his head as he sat back in his chair. “I beg to disagree. Nothing special, with that hair? Those eyes? You’d light my camera on fire!” He shook his head again. “I’ll just have to show you, really show you, how you look under the lens.”
Hannah giggled quietly, her face growing warmer. “Well…”
Allan moved to pour her more wine and she put her hand over the top of her glass.
“Oh no, I think I’ve had enough. As it is, I might have some trouble on the flight.” She pushed her chair back with a little effort, her body feeling very comfortable staying put. “I’m going to use the washroom and then I really need to be going.”
Allan nodded, his smile fading as fast as it had come. “Of course. I’ll get the bill and we’ll head out.”
Hannah nodded as she stood, swinging her purse over her shoulder and steadying herself on the back of the chair. Whoa, there, girl. Way too much wine. She chuckled to herself, not really knowing what had gotten into her. She was so not a drinker and had only ever been drunk a couple of times in her life. She wasn’t drunk now, but definitely not sober either. With a small shake of her head, she made her way through the intimate dining suites to the ladies room, pulling out her phone as she did.
Once inside she hit Mayhem’s number again and cleared her throat, hoping to heck that she didn’t sound as tipsy
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