Grounded (Up in the Air, #3)(32)

He dressed me in beige slacks and a soft, knit, beige tank top that was nearly a match to his scarf. I fingered that scarf when it got within my reach.

He gave me a hot look. “I’m keeping the scarf. I have plans.”

“Of course you do,” I murmured back.

His eyes narrowed on me. “That look in your eyes is going to get you in trouble.”

I just stared at him, letting that ‘look’ do its worst.

He grinned. “Lucky for us both, you like to get into trouble.”

I felt my insides clench in a very good way, sure that meant he was going to do something, like now, but he just finished dressing me and stepped back.

“Wear the same red heels,” he said. I stepped into them, and he tugged me back out into the studio.

The shoot was both less and more awkward than I’d anticipated. On my end, posing was a breeze. All I had to do was stand behind him, arms wrapped around his middle, hands on his chest and abs. I tried not to let those hands wander, or caress, but it was a struggle. My face wasn’t really even visible, just the top of my head and my eyes peeking over his shoulder when I wasn’t laying my cheek against his lovely back. Posing was easy. Not getting wildly turned on was the hard part. I managed that part better than James, though that was only because his part was harder to control in general.

The director cleared her throat just a few shots in. “Um, so, is there anything you can do about that, Mr. Cavendish? This is not an X-rated publication…”

James, shameless bastard that he was, seemed completely unfazed. “You’ll just need to shoot me waist up. You were the one who wanted my girlfriend in the shot, putting her hands on me. What did you think was going to happen?”

“If we could shoot just waist up, that might not be a problem, but it seems to be a…bigger problem than that.”

I felt him shrug against my cheek and I just lost it. I started giggling and I couldn’t stop for a solid five minutes.

James turned around until our fronts were pressed together. He was smiling at me, laughter in his eyes. “I can’t think of a sound that I love to hear more than that one.”

It went better after I got that long giggling fit out of my system. James seemed to get a better handle on things as well, and they shot his back and front while I leaned against him. They stopped briefly to fix his hair, letting it hang loose, then tying it back again. The whole thing seemed kind of silly and frivolous to me, but what did I know about photo shoots? And I couldn’t say that I didn’t enjoy myself. Just the opposite; once I shook the nerves off, I had a really good time.

They did one more wardrobe change for James, and I was left out of that one. I didn’t mind.

They put him in nothing but low-slung athletic shorts and some running shoes. They didn’t give him socks, which seemed pretty impractical, but he did have sexy ankles, so I got why they’d done it.

They braided the longer pieces of his hair back, which I thought was weird, but it worked on him. He looked gorgeous, as usual.

They went through the standard poses that he’d been doing, then moved on to some action shots. These I watched with renewed fascination. They had him jump impressively high, do some push-ups, and then pull-ups. I had to contain a little smirk when they made him do curls.

He used more expression for these shots, even grinning into the camera for some of them. He hardly needed direction, going about the whole process like I imagined a professional model would.

Someone brought me a turkey sandwich, and I thanked them. I ate the entire thing, not taking my eyes off James for a second.

They took a few breaks to do what I thought was some very unnecessary oiling down. He tried to brush off the two women swarming him, shooting me a very uncomfortable look. I thought I read the look perfectly. He was worried I’d be upset at all of the hands trying to touch him, and he wanted it to stop.

They finally relented, but still insisted on doing his back. His jaw was clenched, and he looked positively agitated by the time they finished. I watched with no expression on my face, though I only felt the slightest twinge of annoyance. If I had been inclined to get upset about all of the touching, his reaction would have quickly cured me. He was far more upset about it than I was.

He approached me to chat during one of the short breaks, and one of the many assistants approached us, a sheepish look on her face. I saw that she was holding a rolled up magazine.

She unrolled it and held it out to him when she got close, a black permanent marker in her other hand. “Sorry to bug you, but would you mind signing this?” she asked.

James took the magazine without hesitation, signing the cover. I froze when I saw it. It was a picture him and Jules. I knew by their clothes that it was from the night I’d run from his apartment. He saw my expression as he handed the magazine back to the girl.

“Thanks so much,” she muttered, quickly moving away. She knew not to press her luck, I thought.

“You look upset,” James said quietly, studying me.

I gave him my little shrug, not wanting to talk about, but also not knowing if I could keep my mouth shut about it.

“That night,” I said finally, when he just kept watching me. “I know you said it wasn’t a date, but it hurt that you still went with her to that gala, after all that had happened.

His eyes widened. “No,” he said softly. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I went to that gala for thirty minutes, because I felt obligated to, for my mother’s sake. But I was miserable, and I went alone. Those pictures were typical Jules, crashing my obligatory press photos. The only time I even spoke to her was to tell her to leave me the hell alone. I swear it, Bianca. Once I saw how you felt, I wouldn’t have done that.”