Smiling at her, he replied, “Thank you, Sheila, but all I need is a smile from your pretty face to keep me going.”
With an eyebrow raised in challenge, he gave a quick glance at Rachel–-obviously she wasn’t as well hidden as she hoped. She stifled an urge to groan. He certainly loved to live up to his playboy image.
Sheila was so intent on smiling and batting her pretty eyes, she failed to notice when her feet caught in a tangle of electrical cords, and she stumbled. Blushing furiously, Sheila righted herself and shrugged self-consciously.
Another one bites the dust, Rachel thought. Lips twitching, she struggled to resist the urge to laugh. Catching Jesse’s glance, she noted that he too was amused by the situation. It’s a good thing I’m immune.
“Rachel, could you come over here for a second?” Jesse motioned to her with a crooked finger.
Startled out of her musings, Rachel walked hesitantly toward Jesse.
“Yes, Mr. Jordan?” she asked, straining her neck backward to look up at him. He was tall enough without the added height of the set platform. This put her eyes level to his crotch. She looked up to avoid staring at that particular part of his anatomy.
“Now I told you before, call me Jesse,” he admonished.
“Okay, Jesse, what can I do for you?”
One eyebrow quirked upward, and she blushed, ducking her head to hide the telltale color of her cheeks. Unfortunately, that put her gaze dead center on the long ridge at the front of his jeans. Flustered, her head came up again, sharply, “Yes, Jesse?”
His grin spread so that every pearly white tooth in his head joined the smile. “Just what I like to hear from a woman,” he teased. As her blush grew fiery, he relented in his teasing. “I’d like a photograph of me with my favorite account rep.”
“What?” she squeaked. Glancing around, she saw they were the center of attention.
“I only want one,” he said, grinning. “This is my first time modeling, so I’d like to have a picture of the lady who so charmingly convinced me to do this.”
That high voltage grin turned her insides to mush. She fought valiantly to resist. Rachel would not be added to his list of conquests. “I don’t know...I’ve never had a client ask for that before.”
His brows rose. “Is it a problem?”
“No, I suppose not, but....” Unable to think of any rational excuse, Rachel shrugged. “I guess it’s okay. Do you mind, Evelyn?”
“Not at all. Just stand there next to Jesse while I check the lighting.”
Climbing up on the raised platform, Rachel stood a foot away from Jesse, crossing her arms self-consciously, feeling exposed and embarrassed.
He eased closer. “I promise I don’t bite.”
She jumped at Jesse’s softly drawled words, and a traitorous shiver ran down her spine. Realizing the discomfort her posture betrayed, she relaxed her arms to her sides, straightened her shoulders and pointedly ignored his presence.
She was angry at his teasing, and angrier still that it affected her so much. She felt just fine on the other side of the camera. Squelching the thought that it was being this close to Jesse that made her uncomfortable, she reminded herself he was her client. It would be best to ignore this little game he was playing with her composure.
Evelyn held a light meter in front of Rachel’s face then turned to adjust the light—again. Rechecking the meter, she backed up, apparently satisfied. “Okay, you two, smile and look natural.”
Rachel could feel Jesse’s gaze on her. Ignoring him, she smoothed the skirt of her navy-blue suit. She knew she presented an odd contrast to Jesse’s casual, cowboy attire. Turning her head toward him, she was dazzled by his smile and felt her heart skip a beat at the twinkle in his eyes.
“No, it’s not quite right,” said Jesse. Closing the distance, he slid an arm around her waist, pulled her up against his side, then turned to smile happily into the camera. Click.
Rachel groaned inwardly, knowing her expression the camera captured had been one of shocked stupidity. Thinking had not been an option the moment his warm, muscled arm had pulled her close to him. She couldn’t have formed a coherent thought to save her life.
“Okay, Rachel, you can step down, now.” Evelyn’s voice cut through her tangled thoughts.
Rachel started to pull away from Jesse. She was startled when he reached out to snag her hand.
Bringing it to his lips, palm up, he placed a gentle kiss there, his moustache dragging against her skin intriguingly. He folded her fingers around the kiss before slowly releasing her hand. “Save that for later, when you’re all alone,” he whispered, his voice, low and incredibly seductive. Then louder for the benefit of their audience, he said, “Thank you, Rachel,” and he stared into her eyes as if he could see right through to her very soul.
The cheers from the peanut gallery broke through the sensual haze. The nerve of the man.
Embarrassed, Rachel responded, “You’re welcome, Mr. Jordan,” her voice curt. She wiped her palm against the side of her skirt, sending him an unmistakable message: His kiss was not welcome. It was a lie, for try as she might, she couldn’t dispel the lingering tingle left by the brush of his moustache.
“Jesse,” his voice chided.
“You’re welcome...Jesse,” she replied through gritted teeth.
Resuming her position in the shadows, Rachel was thankful she was no longer in the spotlight. Her face felt flushed, and her heart pounded. It took until the end of the shoot for her pulse to return to normal.
When Evelyn finally called a halt to the session, Rachel, having fulfilled her obligation, made a hasty escape. Deciding she could do without the confusion his nearness caused, she left Jesse to the adoration of his fans. Her heels clicked on the tiled floor as she walked purposefully and quickly down the hall to the elevator. She was not running away, she assured herself. There was a mountain of work begging for her attention in her office.
Slamming her open palm against the up button, she let out a sigh of relief as the door slid open immediately. She looked back toward the closed doors of the studio and noted with satisfaction she had escaped without notice. Contrarily, as the door slid closed she felt her satisfaction deflate into disappointment.
Back at her desk, in the relative safety of her office, she punched the key on her mouse to reactivate her computer screen. She watched as the picture came into focus. It was the Internet site she’d been browsing earlier that morning. Displayed on the screen was a bassinet decorated with a colorful baby layette.
Reaching out to touch the screen, Rachel sighed. Focus on the goal, girl. Playboys, no matter how handsome, are not necessarily good sperm donors. She didn’t need this wild attraction to clutter her brain and make her wish for things she didn’t have time for. Now, this crib with its rainbow-colored blankets was another thing altogether.
“Rachel, I have some papers that need your attention.”
Minimizing the screen, Rachel turned toward her secretary, a blush staining her cheeks.
“Leave them on the desk, Mildred. I’ll look at them as soon as I check my calendar for the next appointment.”
Mildred placed the stack of papers on the corner of her desk and smiled knowingly before she left the office.
Some high-powered ad executive you are, Rachel. Before you know it, you’ll have the entire agency aware you have babies on the brain.