Jill Shalvis - Bared

Before her stint as a model, she would usually write some more after dinner, until her eyes closed right there in her chair, and exhausted, she’d drop into bed. Now, more often than not, Emma simply stared at the blinking cursor, her thoughts shifting from plot problems in her script to how incredibly sexy she had felt posing for Rafe, knowing that he had watched her. Not Amber, but her. Funny how for most of the day she could keep the erotic thoughts at bay-or at the very least channel them into some steamy dialogue and even steamier actions for her characters.

But when night came, she only saw Rafe, intense and demanding, staring at her, wearing next to nothing, through the lens of his camera.

Emma wondered what her mother would think of the fact that she’d impersonated Amber on a photo shoot in less clothing than one might see in a Playboy ad…

And that Emma had liked it…

And was secretly hoping to do it again…

Would her mother still prefer Emma over Amber? Or would she think Emma had forsaken her brains for beauty and give up on her, too? For the first time she could remember, Emma didn’t care what her mother thought. She just wanted to feel that sexy, that sensual, again. She wanted Rafe’s hot gaze traveling all over her…

Lord, it was official, she’d lost her mind. She’d gone off her routine; she’d gone off the deep end.

She wanted to pose again. More than she wanted to work.

Which was why she hadn’t called Rafe back. She’d be crazy to do it again. Crazy.

So when the phone rang and her caller ID said “R. Delacantro,” her heart nearly stopped. But her finger hit the on button before she could prevent herself. “Hello,” she said, trying to sound normal when her heart was now beating so loudly, he surely could hear it.

He paused. “Emma.”

“Yes.”

He let out a breath. “Thought so.”

Only her mother had ever been able to tell them apart on the telephone. That had led to some interesting escapades when they were children, and even more when they’d been teens. Girlfriends, boyfriends, teachers…they’d fooled everyone.

“Were you trying to reach Amber?”

“Yes,” he said.

Oh. That deflated her a bit. “She’s-”

“No, wait.” He blew out a breath. “Hell. I called a few days ago.”

“I…know. To talk to Amber?”

“I’ve learned to personally call her before a job,” he said. “To make sure she’s going to be there on time. It’s poolside, you got the memo?”

So he hadn’t called for her. “Yes.”

“I have no idea which of you is coming tomorrow…”

“Amber promised to be there.”

“Ah.”

The tension that was always between them, the tension she knew was purely sexual-at least on her part-shimmered so thickly she could hardly breathe. She waited for him to say something, anything.

Why don’t you come instead, Emma would be nice.

Or It’d be nice to see you again.

But he didn’t say either.

And she didn’t say anything.

And after she’d hung up, she stared blindly at her computer for several moments.

Then she picked up the phone and called Amber. While it rang, she practiced her speech.

You’ve got to come back.

I’m swamped at work and can’t help you anymore.

Your photographer is doing things to my insides and I can’t take it.

“Hello?” Amber said, sounding just a little breathless, as if she’d run to find the phone.

Or as if she was busy being seduced by Ricardo.

“Amber.” Emma squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember the speech. You’ve got to come back. I’m swamped at work and can’t help you anymore.

Your photographer is doing things to my insides and I can’t take it.

Simple.

“You’ve got a shoot tomorrow,” she heard herself say. “Poolside. Need me to handle it for you?”

“OH MY GOD,” Amber cried. “Emma, you are the best sister ever! I’ve been trying to figure out how to call you and ask, but I didn’t know how. You wouldn’t mind, really?”

Emma thunked her head down on her desk. What the hell was wrong with her? How hard would it have been to say what she’d rehearsed?

And why had her brain refused to say it, instead offering to traipse over to Rafe’s house and put on a little bikini and let herself go through the agony of another shoot?

“No,” she said a little too fast. “I wouldn’t mind. Amber…do you really call me Queen Emma behind my back?”

Amber laughed. “Well, you have to admit, it suits you.”

“How so?” she asked indignantly.

“So serious, so anal-And I mean that in the most loving way. Seriously, Emma. It’s a compliment. And I’m so glad you’re willing to hang in there with Rafe. You’re such a good sport! Kenny and I are really having a time here.”

“I thought his name was Ricardo.”

“Oh! Well…I met Kenny a few days ago and…”

Forehead still on her desk, Emma shook her head while her sister rambled on about why she’d ditched Ricardo and how “yummy” Kenny was.

“I’m sure I’ll be home by the following shoot,” Amber finally said, whispering now. “Besides, my agent’s been calling. I have a few TV auditions lined up-can you believe it?”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because Kenny wants to break into modeling and no one is biting. He’s depressed. I don’t want him to hear how successful I am.”

Emma kept her eyes closed. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“I know. If he knew how amazing this calendar of me was going to be, he’d be green with jealousy.”

Amber’s calendar.

Not Emma’s, though after tomorrow she’d have done more of it than Amber had. She sighed. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got work.”

“Like always.”

Emma ignored that because…well, because it was true. She always had work. Without it, she was…Actually, she’d worked so long and so hard, she had no idea who she was without it.

She thought about that for the rest of the night as she worked like mad so that she could take the next day off without worrying about it.

Then she woke up at the crack of dawn to work some more.

Or more correctly, to stare at a blank screen some more. Kauai and Joshua Tree had given her great inspiration, and she’d indeed enjoyed taking her characters into uncharted territory.

Sexy and wild territory.

The problem was, she’d used her recent experiences to build up the sexual tension, but now it was time to…consummate. She’d written love scenes before, plenty of times. She’d even had her own sexual relationships but they’d always lacked something. All the candles and soft music in the world couldn’t make a love scene work if the chemistry wasn’t there.

And she knew little about chemistry. Or she had known little, until the past few weeks when she’d gotten quite the lesson.

She had more to learn, a lot more. Could she go today and somehow get Rafe to show her the rest? And did she really think she could handle the rest, and then walk away?

Because she would walk away, she would have to. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a man in her life-she just didn’t know what to do with one. Or how to hang on to one. Sure, she could turn heads, but that was exterior stuff. She’d never be able to keep a man like Rafe satisfied for long.

But she didn’t need long. She only needed a day.

An hour.

Her body tingled at the thought. When it was time, she rose from her chair and grabbed the directions to the day’s shoot.

Her knees knocked together as she headed over there. They would have sent a car for her, but she wanted her own car there so she could leave when she was ready.

Her mode of escape.

Rafe lived in the Glendale Hills above LA. After following a series of long, winding streets, she came out on a cul-de-sac with stunning views of the city.

His house was on the end, a Tudor-cottage style, cream with dark blue wood trim and shutters. The yard had a green lawn that needed mowing and was lined with wildflowers that had taken over all the tree beds, as well. It was large but homey, and she liked the way the gardens didn’t have a manicured look to them. She’d bet if Rafe didn’t take care of this place, no one did, and she found herself trying to picture him out here on his days off. He’d be shirtless, of course-

“Meow.”

Before she could knock on the door, a cat appeared out of nowhere. A small, scrawny brown-and-gray cat with odd tufts of fur sticking up here and there. “Hello,” she said softly, and reached out to pet it.

The cat went very still, as if not quite sure if he-or she-was going to allow the touch, but once Emma scratched beneath its chin, it came a little closer. Emma knocked on the front door, then squatted to pet the cat, who was now rubbing against her ankles, eager for more chin scratching.

The door opened, and high above her stood Rafe. As in her earlier fantasy, he was shirtless, wearing only a pair of khaki cargo shorts, and she felt her mouth fall open because up close he was even better than any fantasy.

Research, she reminded herself. You’re here for the research.

And fun. Let it begin.

He propped a shoulder against the doorjamb and eyed her. “Emma.”

“Yes.”

He let out a breath, apparently unsure if Emma being the model for the day, was a good or bad thing. “You didn’t get the message, I take it.”

“Message?”

“The shoot is at four o’clock instead of one. Is that cat…purring?”

They both stared down at the feline, whose eyes were half-closed, face slack with pleasure as Emma continued to scratch it beneath the chin. A rusty, sporadic rumble sounded from its throat.

“I think so.” Emma smiled. “Is it yours?”

“No, but I think I’m hers.” Rafe pushed away from the doorjamb and hunkered down before the cat, which brought all the broad expanse of bare, tanned, sinewy flesh far too close to Emma for comfort. He smelled like fresh air and soap and male.