73
continued to click and Jacqui rolled her eyes. Seriously, what did it take to be left alone these days?
She straightened, whipping her head around, about to unleash a smart retort--until she noticed who was behind the lens.
A lanky guy with shaggy, light brown hair and deep blue eyes stood on the sidewalk, squinting into his camera. He was dressed in a pair of worn cargos and a thin, faded All-Blacks T-shirt. "Hello, love, just hold that, will you? Brilliant! Now if you could just turn this way ..." He motioned with a hand, still looking through the viewfinder.
Jacqui bristled. Who did he think he was? She was minding her own business, taking care of the kids in broad daylight on Main Street. She could tell from his accent he was Australian-- she'd watched enough Crocodile Hunter with the Perry kids to be able to differentiate a Brit from an Aussie--and maybe things were done differently Down Under. Still, she certainly didn't need to add paparazzi to her list of things to deal with.
"Right there, perfect," the photographer said, just as Logan pulled on the hem of her jumper.
Jacqui looked down at the owlish little boy, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "Yes, sweetie?"
"Why is that man bothering you?" he asked. "Doesn't he know about privacy law?"
Jacqui couldn't stop a grin from spreading across her face. "I don't know. Why don't we ask him?" She finished wiping Wyatt's face and gave him his ice cream cone back.
74
"Am I bothering you? I'm so sorry." The photographer smiled and his whole face lit up. He held the lens up to his eye again. "Could you hold that pose, please? Perfect, thanks. And maybe turn your chin down just a bit?"
Jacqui found her chin moving down automatically, her eyes locking with the cameras lens. Dozens of photographers in Manhattan had told her she was made for the camera, and the way her body seemed to respond to his directions naturally, almost against her will, she began to wonder if it were true.
"Jacqui . . . ," Jackson whined from behind her, his voice breaking the spell of the camera's flash. "I dropped my ice cream." She turned to face him. The little boy was dangerously close to tears, pointing to where his ice cream cone res
ted upside down on the sidewalk. "It was my fault--I was trying to count how many diamonds there were in the waffle cone and it fell," he added miserably, staring at the drippy pink mess. Jacqui hurried to his side, bending to give him a big hug.
"No worries, mate, we'll get you another." An even deeper voice startled her.
Jacqui and the kids looked up to see another man, identical to the first photographer except with even shaggier hair, so long that it licked the edge of his shirt collar but artfully tousled. He wore a rare vintage concert tee and his cargos were the seven-hundred-dollar designer kind--as she crouched down, the Maharishi logo was just at Jacqui's eye level. He winked at her and she felt a thrill zigzag up her spine.
75
"Don't mind my brother," he said, nodding at the first photographer. "Atrocious manners. Thinks he can just start taking photos of any girl off the street without asking permission." He shook his head in mock frustration, his shaggy locks bouncing adorably back and forth. "Let me introduce us. That's Midas there and I'm Marcus." He held out a hand. "We're the Easton boys. At your service, mum."
Midas waved from behind the camera. "Hello there!"
"Jacarei Velasco." She stood, extending a hand. Instead of shaking it, Marcus leaned forward and kissed it. She smiled. "But you can call me Jacqui."
"But why should I when Jacarei is such a pretty name?" Marcus's eyes twinkled. "You're from Brazil then, yes?"
Jacqui nodded, surprised. She straightened the hem of her jumper, hoping it hadn't ridden too high. "You know Brazil?"
"We were just there last month, shooting in Praia da Baia do Sancho." He nodded, naming one of the country's most beautiful and remote beaches. "We had to hike a few miles on foot to get there and helicopter in the models. But it was worth it."
She couldn't help but grin. Whenever she met anyone who had been to her country, it was usually only for Carnaval in Rio. It was refreshing to meet someone who understood that there was more to Brazil than women in feather bikinis dancing the conga.
Midas resumed his monologue as he continued to snap away with his camera. "Yes, those eyes, very good. Very Linda. And my
76
God, those legs. Haven't seen a pair like that since Karolina. And that hair rivals Gisele's."
"Where were we?" Marcus frowned, ignoring his brother and studying the kids, who were looking up at him openmouthed. They clearly werent quite sure what to make of the two big boys who had so suddenly and noisily interrupted their quiet walk. "I remember, you, sir, had lost your ice cream and need a replacement, yes?" he asked, bending down to tickle Jackson's chin. "Now, what flavor can we get you?"
"Passion fruit, please," Jackson said politely.
"Good boy." Jacqui smiled. The kids had chosen low-fat fruit-flavored ice cream rather than the chocolate variety all on their own. Suzy had taught them well.