“I’m her bodyguard,” he said, because he felt as if he needed to explain his suit. Plus it would drive Melanie crazy.
“Are you serious?” The woman eyed Melanie more carefully. “Are you famous?”
When Melanie started to shake her head no, Hunter touched her knee. “She’s not famous to the average person. But those who know who she is are such rabid fans she’s accumulated some stalkers. I’m here to protect her.”
“Oh. My.” The flight attendant unlocked her cart and started to push it. She asked Melanie in a low voice, “Can I ask what industry you’re in?”
Hunter didn’t expect Melanie to play along. He thought she would bluster and apologize and say it was really her boyfriend the famous photographer who had a stalker. But she stunned him by nodding solemnly and saying, “Sure. I’m an adult-film star. Maybe you’ve seen some of my work? Poke Her Haunches? Or maybe Romeo, Juliet and Juliet?”
The curious smile disappeared. “No, I haven’t.” The cart moved rapidly three feet down the aisle.
Coughing to cover his laugh, Hunter looked at Melanie in amusement. “I wasn’t aware of your history.”
“I don’t like to brag,” she said breezily.
“Home videos? Or can I download them online?” He knew she was joking, but without warning an image of Melanie in a corset and touching his sword ambushed his thoughts.
She smacked his leg. “Neither. You goof.”
“I’m a goof, am I? You’re the one messing with the flight attendant.” He eyed her carefully. “Be honest, you wouldn’t even make a home video. That’s not your style.”
“Hey! What do you know about my style?”
“You don’t seem like an impulsive person. Making a sex tape at home is usually for couples who are spontaneous. Or daring.”
“I could be daring.”
His assessment seemed to have annoyed her. Or at least made her slightly defensive.
“I mean, I have posed naked, you know,” she said.
“Your boyfriend is a photographer. I don’t find that particularly daring.”
“My ex-boyfriend is a photographer. Past-tense boyfriend. Not my boyfriend anymore.”
Hunter felt like a jerk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t just pose for him at his place alone. I took part in all his shoots. It was like our private joke. I had to travel with him anyway for work, so there I am, in every photo he’s done for the past year.”
“Really? You’re like Where’s Waldo? Only naked?” That was a tantalizing thought. Holy hell. The chick had guts. And was clearly comfortable in her own skin, which was incredibly hot.
Melanie laughed, and took a sip of her drink. “Sometimes I wore a disguise.”
“How do you wear a disguise when you’re naked?” His mind ran in directions that were so dirty he was glad his jacket was still lying in his lap.
“Glasses. A wig.”
“Right.” Because she wasn’t a total pervert like he was. “Fascinating. Here’s to you getting naked.” He raised his plastic coffee cup and offered her a toast. “For posterity and for art.”
“For art.” She lifted her own tumbler and clicked it gently against his, giving him a soft, sexy smile.
The minute the plane landed he was going to search the shit out of Ian Bainbridge’s photographs online. Wig or no wig, he was certain he would recognize Melanie’s sexy curves anywhere.
Thank God for the internet and both Ian’s genius as an artist and his stupidity as a man. This assignment was turning out to be a whole lot more exciting than Hunter had anticipated.
HERE’S TO YOU getting naked. Melanie wished. She wondered if Hunter had any idea how his words were affecting her. He probably didn’t mean to be flirtatious but it felt as though the man had been talking about sex nonstop since the minute they’d boarded this godforsaken flight an hour earlier. Or maybe she was just projecting her lack of sex onto the conversation. Either way, it was driving her crazy.
By the way, just who was his moron of an ex-girlfriend? Though she supposed it had been decent of her to wait until he got home to dump him face-to-face, unlike certain photographers who thought a note would suffice. It would have been really cold to end things via text or email while Hunter was on active duty halfway around the world. So maybe the ex wasn’t a bitch. Maybe she just wanted something different. Something that wasn’t gorgeous.
Melanie couldn’t believe she’d told Hunter about being in Ian’s photos. She’d never told anyone but her best friend, Jeannie, about that. She had felt bold and sassy doing it, and she’d never felt a need to talk about it. But she had practically bragged to Hunter. Because no matter what logic was telling her, she was attracted to him and she wanted to impress him.
Not wanting to further engage in a conversation that was bound to make her hot and bothered with no way to cool her heat, Melanie dug out the fashion magazine she’d brought with her. Hunter let her flip through the pages in peace, something Ian wouldn’t have done. He would have read over her shoulder, criticizing the unnatural state of the models. Not that she didn’t agree with him, but sometimes she just wanted to look at the shoes and daydream, not listen to why the lighting in the shot was wrong.
Hmm. Interesting that she was finding herself momentarily relieved that Ian wasn’t with her. He was no longer her boyfriend and already she felt past the stage of crying over it. The sheer speed with which she was reaching the stage of acceptance spoke volumes. It also disturbed her. Good grief, she had been willing to convince herself of a whole hell of a lot, hadn’t she?
Hunter had his eyes closed, so Melanie studied him surreptitiously. He didn’t have a boyish face, but rather one that was chiseled and mature, with pronounced cheekbones and a strong jaw. He had a scar on his chin, just a thin white slash where there was no beard shadow. Most of her adult life had been spent dating men she had deemed creative and artistic. It had been a decade or more since she had allowed herself to look at a man—a real one, not a movie star—and feel primal in her attraction to him. To think that there was something really hot about him purely because of his hard-bodied masculinity and manly scent.
Until now. She felt it acutely as she watched Hunter sleep. Even unconscious, he radiated strength and virility. On some intrinsic level, her body responded to that.
After watching her friends fall one by one for the bad boys in school, she had been determined to pursue guys who had something to offer intellectually instead of the ones who made her panties heat up. A girl couldn’t think with damp drawers, and Melanie wanted to be in control, always. She’d spent the past dozen years keeping her wits about her, but it seemed at some point her wits had gone witless. She’d convinced herself to spend a year dating a man who clearly wasn’t worthy of her attention.
She tore up the note from Ian methodically, ripping it in slow, careful strips. She made a pile on her tray, then jammed it into her empty plastic cup. When the flight attendant came back around to prepare them for landing, she handed her the trash, with the note—an uneventful ending to the last year of her love life. As though it had never been.
When they hit the runway, Hunter jerked awake and gave her a sexy, slumberous smile that warmed her from the inside out.
“Bienvenido a México,” he said. “I hope you enjoy your vacation, Melanie.”
Thoughtful on top of sexy.
“Or