The One He's Been Looking For. Joanna Sims

actually seemed truly alive. The man obviously loved his job.

      “I want to be flexible today, but I definitely want to get a beauty shot of you. Do you know what that is?”

      “I’ve watched modeling shows on television before.”

      Ian smiled at her. “So you’re practically a pro.”

      For the next several seconds all she could do was stare mindlessly at his perfectly straight, perfectly formed white teeth.

      “Those have to be veneers.” She heard herself speaking her thoughts aloud like a freak. Was she still drunk? Had she developed sudden-onset Tourette’s? What was she talking about?

      “What?” he asked.

      “What?” She answered his question with a question, and pretended that she hadn’t said a word. She forced herself to drag her eyes away from his mouth.

      For an awkward minute, they looked at each other curiously before Ian moved on from her odd comment and explained, “A beauty shot simply means that I’ll be focusing on your face. But don’t let your body get stiff—relax and move.”

      “Relax and move,” Jordan repeated.

      “And the most important thing for you to remember is to keep the intensity in your eyes,” Ian continued. “The eyes sell the shot...which is why a beauty shot can be one of the hardest for a model to master.”

      “Shouldn’t you let me ride with the training wheels on first?” she asked. They had drawn a crowd. Everyone in the loft, including the two famished models from the couch, were standing at the edge of the set.

      Ian gestured for her to move over until she was standing in front of a large white screen. “You ride a Ducati, so you don’t need training wheels,” he said as he aimed his camera at her.

      Standing in front of Ian now, Jordan felt completely vulnerable and exposed in the filmy white tank top. She made a good show of being a rebel with a cause, but underneath it all, she was just a conservative girl from Montana.

      “Okay.” He seemed oblivious to her discomfort. “Let’s get started.”

      He took a couple more shots to test the lighting. He checked the computer monitor and then nodded. “Lighting’s good.... Now focus on me, Jordan. Forget everything else.” The gravelly quality of his voice as he said her name sent a shiver racing right up her spine.

      Jordan breathed in deeply and tried to put the audience out of her mind, but she could see the praying mantis twins burning holes into her flesh from the corner of her eye. Another flash popped.

      “Look straight into the camera. Chin up just a little bit. Relax your mouth. Good, Jordan. Very nice.”

      She tried to relax, but instead just felt stupid and awkward.

      “Look at me through the lens. Nice. I like it, Jordan. Hold that, please.”

      The flashbulb popping drew her attention back to Ian again and again. But no matter how hard she tried to follow his direction, the crowd in her peripheral vision was a major distraction. She just couldn’t focus. Not like this.

      Ian must have realized from her frozen expression and her stiff limbs that she wasn’t able to overcome the prying eyes. He turned away from her and waved his hand at their audience.

      “Clear the studio,” he said to the spectators. But because Ian never asked for privacy, no one moved.

      “Now!” he barked loudly.

      Jordan watched, relieved, as the crowd disappeared behind the divider. Violet emerged from her room with a curious look on her face.

      “Take the rest of the day,” Ian said when he noticed her standing at the edge of the set.

      “For real?” Violet asked, surprised.

      He nodded. “Do me a favor. Make sure everyone leaves. I want it quiet and private. Got it?”

      “Got it.” Violet slid one last suspicious, slit-eyed look at Jordan before she spun on her spiked heels and disappeared.

      Ian waited until he heard Violet’s echoing heels reach the door. When it shut behind her, he turned his attention back to Jordan.

      “Now,” he said as he walked toward her. “No more excuses.”

      “Thanks for that.” She felt herself immediately relax. She would’ve thought that having others around would make her feel less nervous around Ian, but now that they were alone together, she felt more at ease.

      “I take it you don’t do that very often,” she added.

      “I’ve never done that,” Ian said as he scanned through the photographs he had already taken of her. “Not for anyone.”

      “Then why’d you do it for me?”

      He walked over to where she was standing, and she liked his natural, long-legged swagger.

      “I’m going to be blunt so we can move this along, okay?”

      “Sure,” she said with a shrug.

      “You interest me. Individually, your features are...ordinary, but together...” He paused as he studied her face. “But together, they are extraordinary. And I feel compelled to capture that in a photograph. Fair enough?”

      Jordan wrinkled her brow and gave a small shake of her head. “Was there a compliment in there somewhere? ’Cause it sure didn’t sound like it...”

      “You seemed like someone who’d rather get it straight. Was I wrong about that?”

      “No. You’re right. I’d rather get it straight.”

      “So...is there a problem?”

      Jordan put one hand on her hip and felt her proverbial hackles rise. “I don’t have a problem.”

      “Good.” Ian nodded his head. “I’m glad to hear it. Time is money and I’d like to get back to work.”

      “Sure.” She frowned at him. “Why not? It’s your time to waste. Good luck with getting a usable shot....”

      “When it comes to getting the shot,” he replied with the confidence of a man who didn’t often fail. “I don’t need luck.”