Caught on Camera by Kim Law Page B

over his prey.
    She definitely had to find out the name of the chef and visit his restaurant on occasion. Surely a few infrequent visits to the occasional five-star wouldn’t break the bank. She closed her eyes as she chewed, savoring every hint of flavor, while also recalling how easy it was to become used to such delights. If she weren’t careful, she’d redevelop her expensive tastes.
    It wasn’t as if she couldn’t dip into the savings left from her previous income, but she’d always held back, worrying she’d someday need the money for items far more important than good food and better shoes.
    Dinner passed, and she found herself shocked at the ease with which they carried on a conversation. He’d spoken about everything from his first memory—his mother teaching him to tie his shoes—to some of his more recent business deals and why he’d made them. She’d shared some of her earlier memories growing up, as well as a bit about her mother and father, all without mentioning either that her father had been killed in the line of duty or that she’d had to go into modeling to support her mother.
    Their conversation had been far more than the chitchat and innuendos she’d originally expected, and though she wouldn’t use anything he’d said without his permission, her respect for him had grown leaps and bounds. It couldn’t be easy growing up a Davenport, especially when choosing your own path instead of following immediately in the family tradition.
    “You said you were only six when your family moved to DC? That must have been exciting.” She waited as JP refilled her wineglass. He emptied the bottle into his, but barely enough for a few sips poured out. She held hers up in silent question. Did he want some of hers?
    JP’s lips tilted, his eyes hooded. “You drink it, gorgeous. It seems to be doing wonders for your nerves. And to answer your question, yes, we moved there for school years, then came back to Atlanta during the summers. But no, I wouldn’t exactly call it exciting.”
    “No?” He was right. The wine had done wonders for her nerves, though relaxation hadn’t been exactly complete. She glanced at the remaining food on her plate, then at his empty one. “You want the rest of my steak? I don’t think I can eat any more.”
    “You didn’t like it?” His voice was low, pulling her toward him as if tugging an invisible wire.
    The atmosphere around them was changing, becoming softer and warmer, but she found herself helpless to retreat.
    His Adam’s apple bobbed. He’d removed his jacket and tie during dinner and opened the top button of his shirt, and she now found herself eyeing the spot just above that open V . She had the strongest urge to put her tongue right there.
    “It was delicious,” she said, her words so low they could barely be heard. She tilted her head, watching his throat rise and fall with every swallow. “In fact, I can imagine only a couple things I’d like better.”

    Vega’s words had an instant reaction below his belt. Had she meant them as the come-on they’d sounded? Any other woman and he’d have no doubt. But this one had confused him since the moment he’d met her.
    One minute he thought she was playing the normal man-woman games, wanting the exact thing he did. The next, she slid an annoying sheet of paper across the table with enough notes on it that even he had to acknowledge that though she might be open to sleeping with him, she was also here to get the interview.
    He watched her gaze clear and dart to his in horror as she realized how wanton she’d sounded.
    Yep, that’s what he thought. She might be thinking she wanted to be in his bed every bit as much as he wanted her there, but she wasn’t ready to go down without a fight.
    “I…uh…I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled. “I meant…”
    He couldn’t take his eyes off her, humored by the way she tried to find some explanation for the slip.
    With jerky movements, she shoved the paper