“Not a bad quality.”
“Depends on who you ask.” She shrugged and moved away from the window, becoming increasingly aware of his nearness. Of the way his chin was starting to shadow…of the attractive crease in his cheek when he smiled. “If you don’t want to talk about your family that’s fine.”
“They’re all still in Omaha and I go back to see them about once a year. My parents and I have a great relationship, so there’s no dirt to dig up.”
Nothing in the world annoyed her more than to be associated with paparazzi in even the tiniest way. “Frankly, I don’t care if you sleep with your sister. I take celebrity photos. The only thing that interests me is capturing your sex appeal on film.”
His jaw tightened, and at the moment he looked a lot angrier than he did sexy. He consulted his watch, probably to keep from shooting daggers at her. “I think we’ve had enough fun for one evening.”
Regret restored her common sense. “Don’t you want to look at the rest of the suite?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then you have no objection to shooting in here?”
He glanced toward the bedroom. From their vantage point, they could glimpse the cherrywood four-poster bed.
“Come see in here,” she said, heading for the bedroom door. “It’ll just take a minute.”
“Why?” he asked even as he approached her. “How many settings do you need? How many shots will you be taking?”
She wasn’t about to tell him how many rolls of film she’d been known to take to get just the right shot. Instead she shrugged and continued toward the door. “This room is unreal. We’re already here. You should at least see it.”
Reluctantly he followed her into the huge bedroom that was bigger than her entire flat. The deep burgundy walls and velvet chaise should have made the room look more traditional, but somehow didn’t. It helped that the crystal chandelier was totally modern, a work of art, in fact, and that the room offered every convenience known to man.
And then some.
Her gaze automatically went to the armoire—a virtual treasure chest of adult toys, some of which even eluded her rather broad knowledge. She quickly looked away, not eager to point out that particular asset of the suite.
“Watch this.” She found the panel on the side of the sleek bedside table and pushed a button. In front of the chandelier, facing the detailed headboard, a slim screen lowered from a hidden recess in the ceiling. “Plasma. Awesome, isn’t it?”
Jack smiled and moved beside her to look at the panel. “What do the rest of these buttons do?”
His shoulder brushed hers, his faint woodsy scent so intoxicating, it took her a second to regain her senses. “Uh, lots of things.” She cursed herself for the inane comment. “Everything in the suite is controlled from here—the television, of course, the temperature, the drapes, the sound system, the lights…”
“Impressive.”
“You don’t sound impressed.”
He smiled again, and she realized that he probably already had a plasma TV, a comparable sound system, everything he needed at his fingertips. And if he didn’t, it wasn’t because he couldn’t afford it.
“Ah, well, it beats having to slap the side of my ten-year-old twenty-inch to clear the reception.” She sighed. “So what do you think? Good backdrop, huh?”
His gaze narrowed, he surveyed the room. “Anything else in here I should know about?”
“Such as?”
His frown deepened, lingering on the armoire. “This hotel is known for more than its luxurious rooms.”
“Oh, you mean the sex stuff.” She grinned at his grimace. “I didn’t think you were interested.”
“I’m not.” He gave her a long stern look. Which didn’t faze her. He had the most incredible hazel eyes. She could stare into them all night. “I don’t like surprises.”
“I totally get it. No surprises.”
“I have your word.”
She tried not to laugh. “Yes.”
He glanced at his watch. “Today’s Wednesday, when do you want to start shooting?”
“Saturday?” She noticed his hesitation and quickly added, “Whatever suits your schedule. I know you don’t do the weekend shows so I figured—”
“You watch my show?” Amusement gleamed in his eyes.
“Of course. Doesn’t everyone?” Too perky. He had to know she was lying.
He smiled. “I’ll have to check my calendar to confirm Saturday, but I think that’ll work.”
“Great.”
They both moved toward the door. “My driver will be here at any minute,” he said.
She got nervous all of a sudden. Kind of a warm flash heated her face. Clammy hands. Just like when she’d waited for more than two hours for her one-and-only prom date. The bastard never showed. Her mom had spent half their rent on the stupid pink dress and rose boutonniere for nothing.
“You have my number?” she asked, annoyed that her voice sounded too high. “To confirm Saturday?”
“I do. What time did you want to get started?”
Before opening the double doors, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure they’d left the suite the way they’d found it. “The earlier the better.”
“Seven?”
“Terrific.”
“How long do you think it’ll take?”
“Hard to tell.” She closed the door behind them and then checked the doorknob to make sure it was locked. “Depends on how—What?”
He was trying to hide a smile but doing a poor job of it. “Nothing. You were saying…”
She stopped and frowned at him. “Come on. What?”
He absently shook his head. “You remind me of my sister. She always has to check the doors and stove twice before leaving the house.”
“I checked it once. That doesn’t make me neurotic,” she said, not sure which annoyed her more, the neurosis implication or being likened to his sister.
“I never accused you of being neurotic. Now if you always get a block away from your apartment and have to keep going back—”
“I did that only one time,” she blurted before she censored herself, and then as she turned back toward the elevator, muttered, “I thought I’d left the iron on.”
He laughed. “Didn’t mean to strike a nerve.”
“You didn’t.” As soon as she depressed the down button, the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. He stood close, closer than was necessary in the empty car.
She breathed in slowly and deeply, tried to exhale without making too much noise, and stared straight ahead at the doors. His nearness meant nothing, of course. It wasn’t deliberate on his part, more an absence of thought. That certain knowledge didn’t stop her pulse from accelerating or her mouth from going totally dry.
Jack said nothing during the ride down to the lobby. Which suited Madison just fine. She didn’t trust herself to speak. Anyway, his thoughts had probably already strayed to whichever nubile young starlet he was meeting for dinner tonight.
Over the past couple of years he’d been linked to a number of actresses and models, from New York to Sweden. Nothing had seriously developed. As far as she knew. Obviously