Bared

17

RAFE WOKE UP at the crack of dawn to find he had one tiny corner of the bed, no covers and no pillow.

And no woman in his arms.

Emma had the rest of the bed, all of the covers and both pillows. She was facedown, sprawled out and dead to the world.

Since he risked falling off the bed if he so much as moved, he didn’t. He just lay there and looked at her.

Always, he left a woman’s bed before the sun came up. So he stared at Emma, waiting for the claustrophobia to overcome him.

Nothing.

Still, he waited, for it would happen. It always did. It was why he wanted out of his “Hollywood” lifestyle, wanted to meet the kind of woman he could wake up with and feel excited about instead of panicked.

In anticipation of the need to run, he forced himself to slip out of bed. Leaning over her, he kissed her lightly before backing to the door.

He always left, he reminded himself. And he was leaving now because they had no future. He was leaving now because she’d wanted only one night.

He was leaving now for the biggest reason of all.

Because he didn’t want to.

He looked down at her, sleeping so deeply. If she moved, if she so much as twitched, he would stay.

But she didn’t.

THE NINTH PHOTO SHOOT was two days later. Emma had agonized over it for most of that time. She had agonized over everything since the moment she’d woken up alone in her bed the night after Rafe had-

Well. Thinking about what Rafe had done to her that night brought both the memory of incredible pleasure-more than she’d ever known-and a good amount of pain.

Because that was the night she’d realized she was in trouble when it came to her feelings about Rafe Delacantro. Maybe she’d realized it before then, but it hadn’t been until he’d made love to her, in her bed, in her shower, on the kitchen table at three in the morning while they were feeding each other cheese and crackers, that she’d been able to face it. She was in deep.

So much for keeping a clear head about this.

Now, hours before the shoot, Amber sat on Emma’s bed, munching on yogurt, her idea of junk food. Emma’s idea of junk food was a big old bag of chips. Thank God for good metabolism.

“Are you sure?” Amber asked for the fifth time as Emma stared at herself in the mirror. “Because, quite honestly, I don’t get why you have to do this.”

“I know.” Emma didn’t know how to put into words why she wanted to do this shoot instead of having Amber do it. She figured it was a sneaky way of seeing Rafe again, since she knew the way he’d left the other morning without waking her up meant that either she’d completely disappointed him or he was scared of his feelings for her in the same way she was scared of her feelings for him.

But she couldn’t imagine Rafe scared of anything.

Which meant she’d disappointed him.

Hard on the ego, but she’d had two long nights to agonize over it now. She could have been more aggressive, hotter, more earthy somehow-she just knew it. Maybe she could convince him to come back out to her place tonight and they’d try again-

“Because if I didn’t know better,” Amber said carefully, “I’d guess you were really into him. But since I do know better, it has to be something else, right?”

Emma pulled on her ear. “Right.”

“Ha!” Amber leaped off the bed and pointed at her. “You’re lying! You always pull on your ear when you’re lying. You’re into him, you really are. I knew it. Damn, Emma. Not Rafe. Anyone but Rafe.”

“Well, I-”

“I told you, he’s not the man to mess around with.”

“Look who’s talking. You’re messing around with his best friend.”

“But we’ve both been around the block and have no illusions. We know how to mess around with our bodies, not our hearts. You don’t.”

“I’m learning.”

“You, the prude, the Goodie Two-shoes, can sleep with him and get it out of your system?”

“Yes. In fact, I’ve already washed him right out of my system, thank you very much.”

“And that’s that.”

“And that’s that,” Emma confirmed.

Amber’s eyes narrowed. “So why are you doing this shoot?”

Good question. “I told you, I have a secret Harley-Davidson fantasy. I want to wear leather and lie over a motorcycle and have every guy’s tongue hang out.”

Amber didn’t look convinced. “Really?”

Emma mentally crossed her fingers. “Really. Don’t take this experience away from me.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

Yep. She knew that.

THEY DID THE HARLEY SHOOT at night, with the moon and stars as their backdrop on Mulholland Drive overlooking L.A. far below.

Rafe mostly watched, letting Stone handle all the crucial decisions on the setup. He knew Stone loved this business with all his heart, and he also knew his friend would do as well or better than Rafe had. He had the patience and temperament for it.

More power to him.

They were waiting for Jen to bring their model to the top of the hill for the shoot. “It won’t be Emma,” Stone said with certainty, when they were all set up. “I talked to Amber, and she said-”

“You talked to Amber?”

“Yeah.”

“You hate to talk to Amber.”

“I don’t hate looking at her.”

“Or sleeping with her?”

Stone lifted a shoulder. “She’s not quite as certifiable as I thought she was.”

“You have a thing for her.”

“I wouldn’t talk if I were you. You have a thing for her twin.”

Rafe stared at him, then sighed. “It’s a sad, sad day when the two of us are hooked.”

“I’m not hooked,” Stone said. “Not even close.”

“Yeah. Me, neither.”

Much.

When the car carrying the model arrived, they were ready for her. A long, leather-clad leg emerged, followed by a torso covered with a leather push-up bra.

Rafe swallowed hard while he waited for the face to emerge and look at him. Stone had told him it would be Amber. She was ready to work and wanted to work-two separate things with Amber-so he truly expected Emma’s twin to be the one sprawling across the big bike for his camera.

And that was for the best, anyway. He hadn’t talked to Emma since their night together. He’d figured each of them would be best served by a little distance. If what they’d each said was true and this was just a physical release, then it should be over.

And maybe if that had been true, he would have been able to sleep for the past two nights, without waking up feeling as though he was missing something. The best something.

The model turned and faced them and when he saw her eyes he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

She walked right up to him, keeping her gaze on his the entire time. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“Ready to do this?”

“Are you?” he asked.

“Where do you want me?” she asked instead of answering.

He pointed to the bike, and she moved that way, a vision in the hip-hugging, incredibly low-riding leather pants.

“Straddle it.”

Lifting a leg, Emma straddled the bike and tossed back her hair so it tumbled down her nearly bare back. She sent him a look over her shoulder, turning her body to best emphasize her full breasts and how the leather bra was barely containing them. If she moved another fraction, nipples were going to pop out. Sitting, her pants sank even lower on her hips, and he could see the line of her black lace thong coming out the top, the strings skimming her hips. He had no idea what it was about the top of a thong peeking out like that, but it got him and got him good.

“How’s this?” she asked silkily.

Just about perfect. Since no sound came out, he cleared his throat. “Good.”

Stone handed him his camera with a long look in his eyes that said “I haven’t a clue why she’s here any more than you do,” and backed away to let Rafe get the shot.

He directed her to a few different poses, many of which had her sitting on the bike sideways, facing the camera, with one leg up and bent, her heel close to her crotch as she smiled saucily. He took a shot, but his mind was convinced that he could clearly see the outline of her nipples-impossible through the leather. And in the V of her tight leather pants, he was sure he could see the outline of her most feminine, intimate place. A place he’d been and touched and kissed and sucked-

He lowered the camera. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t take a picture of her like that and let unknown men drool over it.

With a deep breath, he called, “Finished.”

“That’s it?” Stone came up behind him. “You sure you shot enough film, because-”

“I got enough.” And if he didn’t, he’d improvise. “We’re done here.”

Stone slowly shook his head. “It’s a wrap,” he called out to the crew and then, for Rafe’s ears alone, he said, “You’ve lost it.”

Organized chaos ensued as the crew moved out. Rafe walked up to Emma.

“Some fantasy, huh?” she said softly, running her hands down her leather pants. “I’ve never worn anything like it.” She let out a startlingly alluring smile tinged with shyness. “I liked it.”

God, she was something. Beautiful. Sexy. Adorable. And he wanted, quite badly, to haul her into his arms and tell her what he liked, which was her naked, in bed, panting his name.

“Want to continue the fantasy?”

She looked startled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, let’s take the bike out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah.” He lifted the keys from his pocket. “It’s a friend’s. Come on.” He had no idea why he was coaxing her into this. Maybe to drive himself a little more crazy.

Or maybe to see if she was just as crazy.

Either way, she waited for him, waited while the crew finished cleaning up, waited until they were alone on top of the world.

He got on the bike and handed her the helmet. The engine roared to life as she climbed on behind him. She plastered her long, willowy body to his, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her lush breasts into his back.

He drove her into the night, with the wind in their faces, with the stars and the moon for light, with nothing for music but the wild beating of his heart-and hers, which he could feel palpitating against his back.

The dark, curvy roads were perfect for his mood and he leaned into each turn, loving how her arms felt surrounding him, loving how she settled her chin on his shoulder to see. He could turn his head, look into her smiling eyes and know she was enjoying this every bit as much as he was.

Eventually they landed back at the same spot on the top of Mulholland Drive. He braced the bike upright with one leg, feeling her body lean into his trustingly, warm and pliant.

“So,” she said softly.

“So.”

“Only three shots left.”

“Yep.”

“Had any luck enjoying your impending retirement?” she asked.

He stared down into the city lights and let out a small laugh. “I bought a plant.”

“A plant.”

“A houseplant. I’ll actually be around to water it.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “That sounds…domestic.”

“One houseplant sounds domestic?”

“I don’t have any plants,” she said quietly. “I work too much and forget to water them.”

“That’s you.”

She was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. That’s me.” She sighed. “So what else? There’s Puddles, right?”

“I wanted a puppy,” he said. “And I ended up with a crotchety cat.”

She was quiet for so long that he craned his neck to look at her. “What?”

“I’d forget to feed a cat, too.” She shook her head. “I hate that about myself.” In a gesture that was as slight as it was telling, she pulled away from him. “I’d better get home. I have a long day at work tomorrow.”

He’d been hoping for something else from her entirely, but he wasn’t sure what. Another long, incredibly sensual night? How could he want that when she wasn’t what he wanted at all?

He didn’t know, but he did.

But he still just drove her home.