Perfectly Inappropriate

“Hmm,” Noah said.

She gave a soft laugh. “Is that a good hmm or a bad hmm?”

“Sometimes a hmm is just a hmm.” He moved to the photographs on the wall now, examining each one slowly. “These look different than most black-and-white pictures I’ve seen.”

“That’s because they’re shot with film, not a digital camera.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Why shoot with film; isn’t that a bit dated?”

“To some.” She shrugged again. “But not to me. Shooting with film and then processing the film makes the photographs seem more tangible…more real.” She added another flower to the vase. “Plus, it trains your mind and eye to shoot once because you can’t take a hundred shots in a minute. You need to think quickly and act even faster to get that perfect shot.” When he smiled at that then looked to the photograph again, she added, “But in all honesty, film gives the photographs a vintage effect that I appreciate. It blends light and color in a way that digital cameras just can’t do.”

“Interesting,” he said.

She finished cutting the final flowers, and when she reached the last daisy, he said, “It’s a shame that you never pursued this avenue further. I’ve been to a few photography art shows for charity events and your work could be among them.” He cocked his head, studying one intently. “You capture emotion in a way I’ve never seen before.”

Curious about what picture he was referencing, she carried the vase over to the kitchen table, leaving it in the center, then joined him. Spying the picture that caught his eye, warmth immediately seeped through her, understanding what captivated him.

The day she took that shot in Manhattan had been blistering hot, busy as usual, until one couple stood out among the sea of people. They were probably in their early seventies. The man was wearing an older suit. The woman wore a flower-patterned sundress with a cute hat and white gloves. At the time, they had looked so out of place, and yet completely perfect too. It was like old New York City had met modern New York City. While their clothing had caught Olivia’s eye at first, when the man turned to help his wife step onto the curb, Olivia’s camera had caught something different.

Something so much more important.

“This photograph is why I love street photography,” she explained, crossing her arms over her pajamas again. “It’s the split-second moments that I capture that maybe no one else sees. That’s what I love. I like finding those special moments that all those people on the streets of New York City missed that day.”

Noah glanced over his shoulder, and his voice thickened. “That’s really beautiful, Olivia.”

“What’s beautiful is these moments.” She grabbed the frame and stroked her finger over the photo. “In that second of time, this couple didn’t even know they were surrounded by a typical busy day in Times Square. Nothing else mattered to them but each other. Two people who maybe had been in love a long time, or maybe only a short time, but right in that moment it was only them and the love between them. That’s the beautiful stuff to life, isn’t it?”

His back straightened then. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he regarded her intently.

She laughed nervously. “What?”

“I meet thousands of people in any given week,” he finally said after a loaded moment. “For the most part, people are the same. Their reactions are the same. Most times, their thoughts are very similar.” He moved closer, the distance all but vanishing between them, and electricity charged the air. “You, Olivia Watts, are not the same.”

Her scalp prickled under all that he implied. She quickly glanced away, knowing she did exactly what he said she did—hid whenever someone looked too deep. But she didn’t want anyone looking inside.

It was messy in there. Broken, even.

Like he’d done before, he gently tucked a finger under her chin. The silence felt weighted and time passed painfully slowly until she met the strength in his eyes. Strength that was so easy to fall into. But she’d trusted before, and her judgment had clearly been off.

This time, he didn’t comment on her hiding. Instead, he closed his mouth over hers and her mind silenced at the power of the kiss. An embrace that wasn’t about heat. No, this kiss felt packed full of emotion and she felt the intensity of that power right down to her bones.

When he broke away, he stroked her hair then tucked it behind her ear. “Go get ready.” Leaving her there, he moved to the couch, grabbed the People magazine off the coffee table, and crossed an ankle over his knee. “I got us a reservation for breakfast in a half hour.”

She shook her head, forcing her mind to catch up. “Whatever happened to my meeting you at your penthouse tonight?”

He stared down at the magazine in his hands. “I changed my mind.”

> “But we’ll be with people…you know…in public.”

His eyes slowly rose to hers, and he arched an eyebrow.

Right, she’d learned quickly enough that Noah didn’t like to repeat himself. Truth was, neither did she.

* * *

—

Just over an hour later, Noah’s stomach no longer rumbled, now full of eggs Benedict and hot coffee. Olivia’s yogurt parfait glass bowl, along with his dishes, had been cleared off their white linen–covered table. He’d been to Bloom House, an elegantly understated American restaurant, for breakfast many times. Set next to the table were shelves lined with vintage wine, and the entire restaurant was designed to cater to wine lovers, even though they served a stellar breakfast too. Though the only thing in the restaurant that Noah had been paying attention to was the woman across from him. Olivia wore a soft pink skirt and a white blouse, which matched perfectly with the cherry blossoms in the vase behind her. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.