“I had a more intimate picture in mind.” As Rory followed her he couldn’t keep his gaze off the way her little black high-heeled shoes made her hips sway, causing his blood to pump.
She froze and a pretty pink blush spread across her face. “I’m sorry you were confused.”
He leaned toward her to rattle her chain a little more. After all, if he was going to be on display, he had no intention of being the only one uncomfortable. “Lizzie, if we get together, there won’t be any confusion.”
For a second her eyes widened and her pupils dilated. Then she swallowed hard. “My name’s Elizabeth.”
“You don’t look like an Elizabeth. It’s too long a name for such a little thing like you.”
She snapped her lips together. He expected to see steam coming out her ears any minute. This job could be fun, after all.
“My parents named me Elizabeth. That’s what they called me, and that’s the name I go by.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her blouse open farther at the neck. She had a pretty neck. He’d love to kiss that spot where the vein throbbed wildly beneath her skin. “Now, if we’re through with the discussion regarding my name, we both have work to do.”
He smiled, way more at ease than when he’d arrived. “All set.”
“Have a seat on the hay bale there.” Lizzie pointed to the one closet to the saddle.
He sank onto the hay, braced his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “Now what?”
That pretty pink color still tingeing her cheeks, Lizzie turned to Chloe. “How’s it look from your angle?”
“Good from here. Now, get out of the shot and let me work.”
The rapid-fire click of the camera shutter filled the studio. During a momentary lull, Stephanie buzzed around him, more annoying and persistent than the horseflies at home. “I think he’s getting a little shiny. Let me add some powder.”
Rory tried not to wince. Just what he needed, more makeup. Pretty soon he’d look like Bozo the Clown.
She swiped a brush across his face, tossed him a big smile and fluttered away. She wasn’t any better at getting the leave-me-alone signals than the horseflies.
More clicking.
This was every bit the torture he’d expected, except for the short diversion with Lizzie.
“Relax, Rory, you look like you’ve got a dentist appointment later today,” Chloe said.
“Relax? How’s a man supposed to do that with everyone staring at him, watching his every move? I feel like the turkey on Thanksgiving, sitting there in the middle of the table.”
“That’s an interesting point of view,” Lizzie said. “It’s not that everyone’s watching what you do so much as ensuring nothing needs their attention.”
“Try to forget everyone’s here, Rory. Concentrate on one thing, and tune out everything else,” Chloe suggested.
He focused on Lizzie. All straitlaced and in charge, but he’d seen a fire flash in her eyes when he’d called her that. There was definitely something there. All she needed to do was let go and channel that energy. Now that would be a job worth taking on.
“Hold that pose.”
More clicking.
Lizzie leaned toward the photographer and the women whispered back and forth for a minute, before Lizzie said, “Rory, let’s try some shots with you standing.”
He stood, but wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. That wasn’t exactly true. Right now he’d like to have his hands on Lizzie, caressing her dynamite curves and those long legs of hers. Heat shot through him. If he didn’t think about something other than her legs, these fancy jeans would get even tighter. “What do you want me to do with my hands?”
“Stand like you would if you were hanging around the ranch with friends.”
When he hooked his thumbs in his front pockets, Lizzie smiled.
She seemed different when she smiled. Softer. More approachable, more womanly.
“Fabulous. Keep looking like that.” The camera clicked away as Chloe rattled on. “Whatever you’re thinking about, it’s doing wonders for you.”
Rory’s gaze locked with Lizzie’s. He imagined holding her, exploring her full curves. He could almost hear her excited sigh in his ears as his hands glided over her breasts and hips.
Then his phone, which he’d instinctively shoved in his back pocket, rang. Lizzie’s smile evaporated, replaced with a scowl.
“Whose phone is that?” she asked. “Everyone here knows my policy on cell phones interrupting a photo shoot.”
“It’s mine.” Rory pulled it out of his back pocket and answered the call.
He answered the call? Elizabeth stormed toward him. The man possessed no work ethic. “I forgot to mention that when we’re at a photo shoot, everyone turns off their cell phones.”
Ignoring her, he said, “I know he’s trying to make it sound that way, but don’t worry about it. He’ll cool down.”
“Get off the phone now.”
“Got to go. I’ll call you back later.” Rory ended the call.
“I can’t believe you answered that call.”
“I had a life and responsibilities before this job came along. I still have things that need my attention.”
“I realize that. However, I expect you to deal with those things on your own time, not on the client’s.” Elizabeth held out her hand.
“I’ll turn it on vibrate.”
“Give it to me. I’ll hold on to it until we’re done with the shoot.” When he opened his mouth, she suspected to protest, she explained, “You can’t have your phone in your back pocket. It’ll ruin the line of the jeans.”
Reluctantly, he handed over his BlackBerry.
“Let’s get back to work.” She returned to her position beside Chloe. “Where were we?”
The photographer stepped out from behind the camera. “If our focus is to sell jeans, we might want to see more of them.”
“You’re absolutely right, Chloe.” Elizabeth tapped a manicured nail against her watch. “Got any ideas?”
“Rory, do you mind turning to the side and lifting that saddle?”
“Finally something I feel comfortable doing.” He lifted the saddle and balanced the leather against his thigh, as if he’d done so every day since he was strong enough to pick it up.
Rory’s gaze locked with Elizabeth’s and held. Electricity shot through her. Strong. Hot. Baffling. The look in his eyes mesmerized her, making her more confident that she’d chosen the right man for the campaign.
As she watched Rory’s biceps flex under his shirt, heat coursed through her. Then she glanced at his thighs. No doubt about his strength there, and his butt did amazing things for those jeans.
Oh, yeah, this shot was more than perfect.
If Micah Devlin didn’t like this picture and believe the campaign would sell jeans, then there was no pleasing him.
Remembering the campaign put things back into perspective for Elizabeth. She appreciated the sight of an attractive man as much as the next woman, but this was business. She couldn’t let irrational pheromones on overdrive interfere with her work.
“Angle behind him,” she whispered to Chloe. No way did she