He read a text while I looked around the room. He had so much gear and equipment that this place was like a photographer’s playground.
“Son of a…” Ben growled. He raised an eyebrow at me. “Want to help me save the ass of a good client?”
“Probably?”
He laughed, making me giggle. “Blue Truck Advertising is usually a reasonable client. But sometimes they need a test shot in an emergency. What they need now requires a gorgeous female model. And since I happen to have one right here, I can’t say no, right?”
I froze. I didn’t want to be uncooperative, but I didn’t really like posing for photos. It made me incredibly nervous to think of people picking me apart and analyzing me. I was average in every way, with thick thighs and hips. Certainly not a glamazon. But Ben was looking at me expectantly. “I’m not a model,” I finally said.
“This is
just a test shot so they can get their client to sign off on the concept. Think of it as a sketch before the artist does the real painting.” His enthusiastic grin nearly knocked me over. “Chelsea, will you be sketchy for me?”
I laughed. “Sure, I’ll try.”
He set up a peachy-pink cloudy background, then set out a selection of old-fashioned teacups.
“What’s the photo for?” I asked.
“A campaign to get more women to try whiskey,” he said. He shot me a sideways glance. “Which I obviously don’t recommend for you, after that face you made on Saturday night.” He set the cups in a row. “Do you drink tea?”
“When coffee isn’t available.”
“Okay. As my new expert on all women in North America, please select the teacup that is most appealing to you.”
“Gosh,” I said, shaking my head dramatically. “This is a lot of pressure.” I chose the one with the most elegant shape and small peach roses. “Hold on.” I dashed to my purse and applied peach lipstick that almost matched the cup.
Ben laughed. “Chelsea, you’re amazing.”
I stood in front of the backdrop. “What do you need me to do?”
“Is it okay if I arrange you?” he asked.
“Sure.”
As Ben came closer, I realized that my breathing was becoming twitchy. He tousled my hair gently, pulling a few tendrils down my shoulders, and spinning my hair around his finger to create a few waves under my chin. Then he turned one shoulder toward the background so that I was practically in profile.
Holding the teacup toward the backdrop, he raised it so that I was turned as if I was examining the cup. Then he dropped my other shoulder.
“Eyes to me. This is perfect,” he said, stepping back. He was scanning me for the shot, but he was also staring at me in a way that made me tingle all over.
“Would you forgive me if I undid one button on your blouse, to show off your neck?”
“Sure,” I whispered. It was hard to breathe as his fingers undid the button, opening my shirt and arranging the collar. As his fingers brushed my throat, then under my ear, I wasn’t sure if it was an accident, only that I wanted more. Then his fingertips tickled behind my ear, which was certainly intentional. Leaning into his touch, I stared up at him, breathless.
Ben leaned closer. A strange knot of tension in my chest swelled. His lips were close enough to kiss if I stretched up slightly.
He hesitated, looking into my eyes with an expression I’d never had directed at me before. His gaze dropped to my lips, then back again. A shiver ran through me as I knew without a doubt that Ben Hayes was thinking of kissing me.
I realized, as heat bloomed through my stomach and hips, that I really needed him to.
CHAPTER FOUR
* Ben *
I’d never been so unprofessional in my entire life. Chelsea was so wide-eyed and dewy fresh. Yet she’d already proven herself to be clever, competent, and incredibly talented. I knew that having her as an intern would genuinely help my studio. But would she be able to handle being more than that? Was it really so wrong?
“You look absolutely incredible,” I said softly, as my fingers trailed down her shoulder.