Hmm. The simplest explanation … “Why didn’t you ask my permission?”
“Honestly, I was going to.”
“When were you going to?”
“Today, over coffee. Before that …” He wrinkled his nose apologetically. Another adorable-yet-masculine expression. He must practice in front of a mirror. “Thing is, the day I decided to approach you was the day you disappeared.”
“Well.” Melissa smacked her hand on the counter, uncomfortably aware he could be telling the truth. She’d stopped going to yoga for a few months because of her injury. But she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook yet. “How’s that for timing?”
“This isn’t as bad as it seems.”
Melissa arched an eyebrow. “How would you know how bad it seems?”
“I’m guessing you feel violated, vulnerable and afraid.” He leaned both palms on the counter, which emphasized the broad sweep of his shoulders and back. His eyes were sincere, gaze unwavering.
Damn, he was good. Yes, she felt violated, vulnerable and afraid, and with her guard down on all three counts, he was creating an atmosphere of concerned intimacy.
Good thing she was on to him.
“Someone could have noticed you every day the way I did, watched you the same way I did.” His voice was low, earnest. “But photography is a deliberate and permanent act, which is much more threatening.”
Melissa had nothing to say. He’d nailed exactly how bad it was. “Why were you photographing me?”
Jack pushed back from the counter. “The camera loves you. You were irresistible to me.”
He spoke matter-of-factly, photographer discussing his subject, whereas Melissa had to hold herself statue-still and beg her circulatory system not to turn her face scarlet. “You could have asked.”
“You might have told me to get lost.”
“Yes.” She folded her arms over her chest, wanting to appear tougher than she was feeling now that the worst of her outrage had abated. The way he looked at her, as if he could read her mind and see her naked at the same time, was making it very hard to feel she had the upper hand, which she damn well deserved in this situation. “But I would have liked the chance to choose. And to know what you wanted the pictures for.”
“I show at the Unko Gallery.” He reached for the pile of brochures he’d brought out and handed her one. “I was experimenting, working on a new idea, a way of photographing women. You had the look I wanted.”
Melissa opened the brochure, wishing she could ask what look that was, but not willing to betray her interest. Was she the embodiment of every female fantasy he’d ever had? Or was she yet another trend-following Western capitalist pretending to understand yoga? Or was it something else entirely that only he could envision, and which she might not want to hear? Given some of the more disturbing shots in the shop, his ideas might not be that flattering.
Jack was indeed listed in the brochure, alongside a few prominently placed photographs, more of those odd, powerful images. Impressive. Melissa wasn’t exactly an art maven, but even she’d heard of the Unko Gallery. Gretchen had taken her there once for a friend’s opening party.
“Come have coffee with me, Melissa. Angela makes a really good cup.”
“I just had one.” She offered him back the brochure.
“Have one more?” He waved at her to keep the pamphlet. “Angela will chaperone.”
“So I don’t look like anyone you went to college with.”
“Nope.” He came out from behind the counter, broader, taller and closer without the protective barrier, leaving Melissa no idea what to do with her hands. “She and Bonnie must have recognized you from your pictures.”
Melissa picked up her flowers and bakery bag. So far, she hadn’t detected any creepy vibes, and she might have to entertain the fact that Jack was telling the truth. “You showed the photos around.”
“I was excited about you.” He still spoke offhandedly, but the eyes watching her were alert and focused.
Melissa glared at him suspiciously, again pleading with her blush mechanism for mercy. “Excited how?”
“Artistically. Of course.” He grinned in a way that made it extremely difficult not to grin back. “Have coffee with me? A quick cup. I’d like to talk over what I hope to do with the pictures.”
“Blackmail me?”
He laughed. “Not blackmail you. I promise.”
“I need to get to work.” Even she could hear her lack of conviction. Work would still be there half an hour from now. Melissa was always early, always thoroughly prepared to tackle her day. She was admittedly intrigued by this man and his work, and she wanted to see if he’d be open to negotiating a legitimate deal so she could afford him for Gretchen’s wedding.
She and her sister hadn’t grown up poor, but they hadn’t been well off, either. Her father had imploded after their mom died; any ambition he might have had to get his PhD or pursue a principal’s or administrative position had died with her. All he’d done since then was teach high school and watch TV. Melissa really wanted Gretchen to have a dream wedding, but without money growing on the family tree, it fell to her to make things happen, as it had so many times since her mom’s death.
“One quick cup.” She hoisted her gym bag briskly. “In the bakery. With a table between us. And Mace if you have any.”
“Won’t need it.” His smile reached his eyes instantly. “Angela’s better than Mace, she’s stronger and faster. But really, I’m harmless.”
Melissa had definite doubts about that.
They walked down the hall together and, in a moment worthy of farce, Melissa caught Bonnie doing a frantic double take at the sight of them, and then Angela doing the same when she and Jack came into the bakery.
“Oh. Hi.” Angela glanced rapidly between them. “You two—Well. What can I get you?”
“Just coffee.” Jack’s voice came over Melissa’s right shoulder; she was ridiculously conscious of his body close to hers. “This is Melissa.”
“Yes.” Angela nodded uncomfortably. “We met.”
Melissa beamed at her, unable to resist a little torture. “I’m the college-friend look-alike.”
“Oh … yes.” She gestured desperately toward the other side of the shop. “Coffee’s over there, help yourself, on the house, let me know if you want anything else.”
Jack was laughing, a deep chuckle that was frankly delicious. “Angela, it’s okay, she—”
“Hey, Angela.” Bonnie sailed into the bakery and pretended to have just caught sight of them. “Oh! Hi, Jack. Hi, Melissa. Do you two know each other?”
“Melissa has seen the pictures. We’re here to talk it out. Bonnie, go pot ferns. Angela, go bake a cake.”
“Are you kidding me? Miss this conversation?” Bonnie sent Melissa a sly wink behind Jack’s back. “Dish up the muffins, Angela. Front-row seats for the showdown are available.”
“No.” Jack took a threatening step toward Bonnie. “You are not staying—”
“Ooh, good idea, Bonnie.” Angela threw Melissa a grin while Jack growled at Bonnie. “Chocolate chip, oatmeal cranberry, lemon blueberry …”
“Over my dead body.”
“If that’s necessary, sure, Jack.” Angela bent down and started picking out muffins. “You don’t