Brown-Eyed Girl (Travis Family #4)(66)

“That was incredibly dangerous.”

“Yes. But she was a smart dog. She knew what she was doing.”

“I meant dangerous for you.”

“Oh.” His lips quirked. “I’m pretty good at staying out of trouble.”

I tried to return the smile, but there was a stabbing sensation in my chest as I thought of him taking that kind of risk. “Would you do something like that again?” I couldn’t resist asking. “Take a job where you could be hurt or… or worse?”

“Any of us could be hurt, no matter where we are,” he said. “When your number’s up, it’s up.” His gaze held mine as he added, “But I wouldn’t go into a situation like that if you didn’t want me to.”

The implication that my feelings might sway such a decision was a little unnerving. But part of me responded to it, craved that kind of influence over him. That worried me even more.

“Come on,” Joe murmured, leading me out of the small building. “Let’s go into the house.”

Exploring, I went into the small bedroom. The queen-size bed was covered with simple white sheets and a white quilt. I admired the headboard, a panel made of wooden vertical slats. “Where did you get this?”

“Haven gave it to me. It was the door of an old freight elevator in her apartment building.”

Inspecting the piece more closely, I saw a long-faded word stenciled in red letters on the side – danger – and I smiled. I ran my hand across the smooth surface of a turned-over sheet. “These are nice. Looks like a high thread count.”

“I don’t know the thread count.”

I kicked off my shoes and crawled onto the queen-size bed. Reclining on my side, I shot him a provocative glance. “Apparently you don’t share my appreciation for luxury linens.”

Joe lowered himself next to me. “Believe me, you’re the most luxurious thing that’s ever been on this bed.” Slowly his hand followed the curve of my waist and hip. “Avery… I want to take your picture.”

My brows lifted. “When?”

“Now.”

I looked down at my sleeveless top and jeans. “In this outfit?”

Idly, he traced a pattern on my thigh. “Actually… I was thinking you could take it off.”

My eyes turned huge. “Oh, my God. Are you seriously asking me to pose for naked pictures?”

“You can cover yourself with a sheet.”

“No.”

From the way Joe looked at me, I could tell he was calculating how to get what he wanted.

“What is the point?” I asked anxiously.

“My two favorite things in the world are you, and photography. I want to enjoy both at the same time.”

“And then what will happen to these pictures?”

“They’re just for me. I won’t show them to anyone. Later I’ll delete every single one if that’s what you want.”

“Have you done this before?” I asked, suspicious. “Is it some ritual you have with your girlfriends?”

Joe shook his head. “You’re the first.” He paused. “No, you’re the second. Once I was hired to shoot a car ad with a model wearing only silver paint. I went out with her a couple of times after that. She was never actually a girlfriend.”

“Why did you break up?”

“After the silver paint came off, she wasn’t all that interesting.”

I couldn’t hold back a reluctant laugh.

“Let me take your picture,” Joe coaxed. “Trust me.”

I gave him a furiously pleading glance. “Why am I even considering this?”

His eyes flashed with satisfaction. “That means yes.” He left the bed.

“It means I’m going to kill you if you betray me,” I called after him. Hearing myself, I rolled my eyes. “I’m talking like a telenovela character.” I undressed quickly and climbed into bed, shivering at the coolness of the sheets.

In a minute, Joe returned to the room with his Nikon and a small stand-alone flash. He opened the shades, leaving the windows covered with sheers that softened the brilliant afternoon light. As he pulled away the top cover on the bed, I jerked the sheet up high under my chin.

Joe looked at me in a different way from ever before, assessing highlights, shadows, visual geometry.

“I’m not comfortable being naked,” I told him.

“The problem is that you’re not naked often enough. You need to go without clothes about ninety-five percent of the time, and then you’ll get used to it.”

“You’d like that,” I muttered.

Joe grinned and leaned over to kiss the exposed skin of my shoulder. “You’re so pretty without your clothes,” he murmured, working his way toward my neck. “Every time I see you in one of those big loose shirts, I think about all those sexy curves underneath, and it makes me as hot as hell.”

I slid him a perturbed glance. “You don’t like the way I dress?”

He paused in his kissing just long enough to say, “You’re beautiful no matter what you wear.”

The puzzling thing was, I knew he actually meant it. I could tell it was the truth, had been the truth for him since the beginning. My figure flaws weren’t flaws to Joe – he had always regarded my body with a mixture of appreciation and lust that was pretty damned flattering.