Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(84)

It was her absolute favorite shot. An honest portrait of the man standing with her now, his hand on her back. In short, it was beautiful in a way that made her throat tighten.

“That,” Tiger said. “That’s what we need.”

“Sorry?” she asked at the same time Evan said, “Excuse me?”

“The inset photo of you,” he told Evan. “I was going to ask if you had a professional headshot, but your talk of painting and what inspired you and how you and Asher arrived at these characters…” He gestured toward the display on her camera. “Well. There it is. In that shot.”

“Thank you,” Charlie said, honestly flattered.

“Asher’s flying out to do a shoot with us for the cover and a few pages inside, but this is the shot I want for my article.” He shot her a huge grin. “Can you e-mail it to me?”

“I—”

“She’ll have our agent call and negotiate a sale,” Evan returned.

Her jaw dropped. Our agent? She didn’t have an agent.

Tiger lifted his chin like he might challenge Evan, then his smile curled up on one side. “Fair enough.” He offered his hand to Charlie. “Ms. Harris. I’ll be in touch.”

She shook his hand and watched as he shook Evan’s again. Once he’d rounded the deck and she heard his car start, she turned to Evan with wide eyes.

“Negotiate a price?”

“Yes, Ace. You don’t e-mail a vulture like Tiger Thompson your work for free.”

She looked down at the photo she knew was good, but still… “It took me only a few seconds to line up and snap. How much could it be worth?”

He clasped her neck with both hands and feathered his thumbs along her jaw. “Took you a decade to hone that kind of skill. You deserve a fair price for it.”

“Is it okay? It’s such a private photo.” It was, too. Evan was raw, real, and perfect.

Evan lifted the camera, held out to the side since he’d stepped in so close, and studied the display. “He’s right. It’s perfect.”

“It’s you,” she said simply.

Something in his eyes changed. They grew soft, then warm. Then downright hot. “Meaning?”

She swallowed thickly and told him the truth. “It’s the real you. Passionate, wild, dedicated.” On a whisper, she finished, “It’s beautiful.”

His eyes never left hers and something in them intensified. Then his hands speared into her hair, and he put his lips on hers for a long, slow kiss. Her eyes sank shut as she savored the feel of his mouth.

Until a seven-year-old boy’s voice lifted on the air. “Dad, can I have…”

Her eyes popped open. She jerked her head back on her neck and pried her lips away from Evan’s. Her heart raced as a thousand thoughts hit her. Lyon saw her kiss his dad. Rae. Evan hadn’t let her go yet. Why hadn’t he let her go yet?

Charlie tried to twist out of his grip, but he held her fast and palmed her jaw at the same time he turned his head to greet his son.

“Can you have what?”

Lyon’s face was scrunched into a combo smile and grimace. “Are you kissing Aunt Charlie?”

Oh. My. Gosh.

“Yeah,” Evan answered.

“Gross!”

Evan’s fingers slid around to cup her nape. “Better get used to it, buddy.”

Her heart hit her throat.

“Remember how we talked about her being around more?” Evan asked his son. “Her staying over sometimes? Well, I’m going to be kissing her more, too.”

Oh gosh. He said it. Just blurted it right out. Why not tell the kid I’m replacing his mother?

“Evan,” she whispered. “I don’t think—”

“Why?” Lyon giggled.

“Because Aunt Charlie is a girl and girls like kisses,” Evan supplied.

All true. She chewed on her lip.

“Whatever, Dad!” Lyon was over it, hanging on to the door frame and leaning out of the house.

“Yeah, whatever, Dad,” Asher said.

Oh gosh! She forgot all about Asher.

“Can you have what, Lyon?” Evan asked, steering his son back to the original question he’d interrupted their “gross” kissing to ask.

“Ice cream.” He pointed at Asher. “You can get it for me.”

“Me? You’re lucky you have stitches or I’d throw you over my shoulder, body-slam you on the couch, and tickle you unconscious.”

“Whatever!” Lyon yelled back.

Asher turned to Evan. “Dad? Can we have ice cream?”

“Up to Charlie.”

“Me?” she gasped, still in shock about… well… about everything.

Asher tipped his head. “Mom? What do you say?”

“She’s not a mom!” Lyon said, laughing again.

The entire patio went quiet for a few seconds.

“She could be,” Asher replied. “She’d be a good mom, don’t you think?”

Oh, Rae.

Charlie’s nose stung with impending tears. Evan slid his hands from her neck and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She lifted a hand to her lips and pressed. Why, oh why, had Asher asked that question?

Lyon squinted up at her. “Yeah.”