Hot Spot by Debbi Rawlins Page A

camera. “I forgot to bring an extra cup. I’ll run downstairs and borrow one from the restaurant.”
    “No need.” He didn’t actually care about coffee. It had been more to distract himself from her mouth. “Later.”
    “Really.” She laid down the camera. “It’ll only take a minute.”
    “Madison?” He touched her arm, his fingertips grazing the skin that was bared below the sleeve. “Forget the coffee.”
    Her lips parted in surprise, and he stared at the minuscule fleck of white that shouldn’t have mattered.
    “Okay,” she said slowly, her arm tensing beneath his touch. “We’ll go ahead and get started.”
    “Good idea.” He lowered his hand, but the awkwardness clung heavily to the air between them.
    She hesitated, looking uncertain, adding to his regret. And then she suddenly stepped back, raised the camera and clicked. “Perfect.”
    He blinked and jerked back.
    “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” She turned to the white bench and stared at it for a moment. “You know what…forget the bench. How about standing over there?”
    She moved briskly to a small clearing that created access to the point where the wall met the glass dome. Beyond was a partial city view painted a golden orange from the rising sun.
    “Right here is great.” She gestured excitedly. “But we’ll have to move fast.”
    He understood the limited window of opportunity and quickly complied. She was all business as she prodded him into place, instructing him to turn his head one way and then the other, to angle his shoulders in different positions. For the next five minutes she focused and clicked—it felt like a hundred times. And then she stopped, lowered the camera and frowned.
    “This isn’t working.”
    Anger ignited in his gut but he kept it at bay because she looked genuinely disappointed. “Why not?”
    “You’re too stiff.”
    “I’ve done exactly what you’ve told me to do.”
    She nodded absently as if she weren’t really listening, an experience foreign to him. He didn’t like being ignored. “Let’s go back to candid shots,” she said finally. “Forget that I’m here. Just do whatever you’d do if you were by yourself.”
    “Right.”
    “Work with me here, would you?” She cocked her head to look past him. “We’re gonna lose the sun in about five minutes.”
    “Hmm…usually comes up about this time.”
    “Very funny,” she said, and clicked. “Perfect. Keep up the wisecracks. Think about the last joke you heard, about your date last weekend. Think about getting laid.”
    That startled a laugh out of him.
    She kept clicking. “Not the response I expected, but good. Keep going.”
    Jack shook his head. She was something all right. Not like the women he’d met in the past few years. The ones who were either absurdly star struck or slyly using him to chase fame themselves.
    No questioning Madison’s ambition, and that was okay, admirable actually. She was up-front about what she wanted. Her interest in him was clearly business, which allowed him to relax. Not that he agreed with the direction in which she wanted to take this photo shoot, but he understood it was her job to try. It was his to set boundaries.
    “I’m losing you,” she said impatiently before snapping a couple more shots and then lowering the camera. “When I think about getting laid, I’m sure I look awhole lot more excited than deciding what to get for dinner.”
    He smiled. “Give me an example.”
    “What?”
    “Go ahead. Show me how I’m supposed to look.”
    “We’re wasting time.” She raised the camera to eye level again, but couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at her mouth.
    “I’m serious. Show me how you’d look.”
    “Hell, I’m not going for disbelief.” She sighed and brought the camera down. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve lost the sun.”
    He watched her turn around and tinker with the tripod, and wondered what she’d meant by disbelief. He sometimes overheard the women at