A wild vibration hummed inside the purse clasped under her arm. “Tsk. Let me see who it is.” She tugged free of his grip to dig out the cell phone and flicked her finger across the screen. “Sorry, I’ve got to respond to this one,” she said, typing with quick thumbs.
“No problem.” Adam nodded. Although there was no reason to doubt her words, he still envisioned another man on the other end of the urgent text message.
To divert his negative thoughts he turned on the gas fireplace and opened the drapes. If she had a man, he doubted the girl was the cheating type. Then again, she did play a rather tough game of hard-to-get. Maybe he was wrong about her. Maybe she’d changed after all these years.
“That’s the hotel manager.” She put the phone away. “I’ve got to clear my stuff from the bridal suite in the banquet hall. If I don’t get it now, I’ll have to do it at the crack of dawn because they have a morning wedding and need the space,” she rambled, pacing.
Adam hated the distress pulling her face into a frown and wanted to take her worry away. The last time he saw her this flustered was in the nurse’s office in eleventh grade when he’d gone in for a bloody nose from gym class; she was up-chucking lunch and begging to go back to class to avoid getting a zero on some quiz. “Relax.”
“Relax? Do you know what kind of day I’ve had dealing with a dozen bridezillas?”
“Umm, yeah. I do. But we are just talking about dresses, right? That’s not exactly an emergency.”
“Just dresses. Is that what you said? Eight brides didn’t show up today—probably got cold feet. I’ve got thousands of dollars’ worth of gowns to cart back to the shoppe.”
He caught Misty from behind with a firm grip on her shoulders and steered her toward the sliding glass door where snow swirled in the air, piling high on the balcony. “I don’t think you or the gowns are going anywhere tonight.”
“Damn.”
“You can always stash your things here.”
“You sure? It’s a huge rack.”
It couldn’t be any bigger than Misty’s huge rack in that curve-hugging dress. “You freshen up. I’ll talk to the manager.”
While she disappeared into the bathroom, Adam arranged to have her things delivered to the Honeymoon Suite then dialed room service.
“Would you care for the Valentine’s Day Extra-Special Super-Deluxe Fantasy Honeymoon Surprise Package?” asked the friendly female voice on the other end of the line.
“Uh, sure,” he answered without hesitation. Whatever it was, he hoped Misty wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Something told him they were both on the same page of the same book, although she seemed to be a slower reader.
Now, if he could pry the damn cell phone from her fingers permanently he might get her full attention. Every time she checked the thing, her face fell as if she were looking into a crystal ball with bad news. He wanted to chuck it into a snowdrift.
Champagne should ease her nerves; it would certainly ease his.
Good thing he’d stocked the mini-fridge with a few bottles after noticing her name on vendor roster.
How many Misty Morningside’s could there be in the world?
In all his travels, he never found a girl who came close, which was why this rambling man quit shooting exotic locations and followed the foolish romantic bug in his system back to Scenic View.
In silent celebration that stupid cupid was on his side for once, he popped the cork, filled a crystal flute to the brim, and gulped it down before setting up the equipment. A firm rap on the door halted his handiwork.
“Room service.” One young man rolled the dress rack over the threshold with care and into the bedroom as directed, while the second steered a silver-covered cart to the bistro table by the balcony door. Adam tipped them each a twenty on their way out.
Finally, Misty emerged from the bathroom.
“Feelin’ better?” Adam hoped.
Slick red lips. Slick black hair. Slick fitted dress. Everything about her was slick. Especially the way she sauntered across the room and straight into his arms as if she’d given herself a pep talk in private. Her change of heart made him curious, but he didn’t want to jinx a good thing with an interrogation.
Instead, he accepted her stocking-clad ankle as she slipped it between his calves, rubbing her leg invitingly against him—no questions asked.
“I feel…” Her pent-up peppermint-scented sigh tickled his cheek. “Good. Better than good.”
He cocked a curious brow, studying her face, searching for the uncertainty he’d seen before but it was gone. “Good enough to have your picture taken.”
“Yeah—about that…” A wry smile curved her pout. “Let’s forget the headshots tonight. We can do it at your studio another time.” Her tongue slid along the edges of her top teeth, from canine to canine.
“Sorry, slick…a deal’s a deal, and a contract’s a contract. It’s just one photo. Right now. And the rest of the night is ours.”
“I’m not feeling photogenic.”
“More champagne oughta fix that problem. Plus a little background music to loosen all the tightly wound bits ’n pieces.” He snapped on the radio and tweaked the dial, tuning in to an acoustic guitar playing bossa nova. Then filled her flute and carried it to the wing-backed chair beside the fireplace, luring her to follow.
“Tsk. You’re not gonna let me get outta this, are you?”
“Come on. It’s not that bad. Just do it for me.”
“Oooh, fine.” She sat like an obedient subject, fondling the velvet armrests, making Adam wish he were under those fingers. “What else ya gonna make me do for you?”
“I can think of a few things.”
“I bet.” Misty perked up. “Let’s get this over with.” She elongated her neck and torso, widened her Brazilian blue eyes, and leaned forward like a trained model.
He fought the urge to steal a kiss and backed up behind the lens instead. After fifteen minutes of rapid-fire photos, he turned off the flash. Scrolling through the images on the tiny digital screen, except for the few where she blinked, they were perfect.
“Well?”
“Sorry, slick.” Shaking his head, he lied, “Not so good.”
She slumped with a frown. “I told you I wasn’t photogenic.”
“Ya know what? Try standing by the bar.”
She complied with a forced pose, jutting her hip and tilting her head this way and that. “How do you want me?”
Bent over. “Put your palms on the counter and lean forward.” He stepped behind her to adjust the angle of her chin. Pulled back her shoulders. “Wow. You’re tense.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah.” With one hand, he pinpointed the knots at the base of her slender neck. “Here. And here.” She went limp and dropped her head to her chest. The deeper he rubbed the louder she groaned. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”
“Hurts in a good way. Don’t stop. Oooh…yeah. That feels good.”
Her head rolled back, face relaxed, eyes shut, lips parted, and it took all Adam’s effort not to kiss her. Instead, he slipped one hand in his front pants pocket to trigger the wireless remote and stole a few images of them together. With the flash turned off and the music drowning out the snicker of the shutter, Misty didn’t even notice.
“If you ever give up photography you can be a masseuse.”
“I’ll never give up photos. Ever. But I’d definitely give you a massage if you let me.”
“Promise?” She glanced over her shoulder through a fan of dark lashes.
“Trust me. Massaging you is one promise I’d never break. But it’s time for work. We can play later.” Although he didn’t want to leave the closeness of Misty’s warm body, he didn’t want to miss the call of his muse.
“Let’s play now and skip the photos altogether.” She caught his forearm but he slipped away behind the camera.
“Wait a sec. I gotta change memory cards.”
“Already? You took that many pictures of me?”
“Stuff from the whole day are on it too, not just of you,” he lied seamlessly as he traded the full card of Misty-shots for an empty one. “Maybe after we finish the headshots you’ll let me take a few more for fun?”
She cocked her head in scrutiny. “What’s that mean?”
“Glamour shots. Women come to the studio all the time for ’em.”
“Hmmm…maybe. If I can have some more champagne.”
“You can have all the champagne your little heart desires. But first you should eat something.” He guided her to the table set for two, pulled out her chair, then lifted the silver cover on the tray.
Adam wasted no time wolfing down everything on his plate while Misty picked at the asparagus tips.
He aimed his knife at her untouched medallion of beef. “You can’t have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat.”
“I’m full.”
“Nice try.” He pulled her plate closer to dice the fillet then speared a tiny piece with the fork and held it to her lips.
“I can do it myself.” She reached for the utensil in his hand.
“I’ll do it.” Adam retracted his arm. “I mean, I’d like to do it for you, if you don’t mind.”
With a coy smile, she accepted the glistening sliver of beef between her incisors and devoured it with a feline purr of delight. “Yummm,” she hummed then flicked out her tongue for more.
Piece after piece, he never broke eye contact longer than it took to find the next morsel, all the while longing to fill her with his own prime meat. It would be more than a mouthful. He hoped she could handle it.