Free Don’t Call Me Sweetheart by Jeanette Ward

hair and make final adjustments to the set and
lights. Where had they been ten minutes ago? Whitney supposed it was just as
well that no one else had witnessed the way in which her willpower had crumbled
at the first touch of Christian’s hands.
    Jag called for Christian and Charisse, the name the model
used to introduce herself, to take their places. He spent a few minutes
instructing the participants about the look he was after and filling the sultry
blonde in on the positions which would enhance both of their profiles to their
fullest.
    At Jag’s direction Christian once again pulled a woman’s
soft body beneath his own, supporting her with his arms and placing his hand
beneath silky smooth hair. Once again he looked down into a beautiful upturned
face. He found himself searching. Searching Charisse’s features for something,
anything that would spark a response to surpass the overpowering urges he had
felt holding Whitney only moments before. Here was a woman who wouldn’t expect
more than she would get, a woman he wouldn’t feel the need to protect or care
for. He knew what to do with a woman like this. But her practiced embrace felt
alien after the sweetness of Whitney’s innocent surrender.
    This time he was compelled to act, to put on a mask of
deception as he went through the motions of feigning an arousal far different
from the genuine reaction he had shared with Whitney. There was no pleasure to
be found with this woman, no sense of completeness like that which he had
discovered with a certain auburn-haired angel who, he knew, was at this moment
watching as he caressed another woman. If their roles were reversed, he wasn’t
sure he would be able to do the same.
    Jag and his assistants were busy making changes in an effort
to achieve various effects, which left Tess free to stroll back to where
Whitney waited, fidgeting in her chair as Charisse enthusiastically threw
herself into her work.
    “A penny for your thoughts?”
    Whitney’s eyes narrowed unconsciously. “I was thinking that
she was the type who would probably do just about any trick a man could think
of for not much more than that penny you now owe me,” Whitney drawled. It
looked to her as if Charisse was enjoying her role a little more than was
necessary.
    Tess laughed. “My, my. Perhaps I should warn that girl to
watch her back.”
    Startled by Tess’ response to the uncharacteristic statement
she had just made, Whitney pulled her gaze away from the action and tried to smile
as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Not from me. I couldn’t care less what
they’re doing up there,” she countered airily, her eyes darting sideways to
watch the seductive blonde wiggle her bottom suggestively as she perched on
Christian’s lap.
    Tess nearly choked with laughter, momentarily drawing the
attention of those working. She waved a hand their direction in apology and
turned to take a closer look at her friend.
    “What exactly are you doing?” Whitney demanded as Tess
caught hold of her chin and turned her face from side to side, peering intently
at her.
    “Looking to see if the green of your jealousy matches your
eyes.” She tried to suppress a giggle at the warning look Whitney shot her
direction but couldn’t.
    “Jealous? What doI have to be jealous of?” Whitney
exclaimed.
    “What indeed. Didn’t Christian kiss you like that too?”
    “Tess, for heaven’s sake,” Whitney admonished tersely, her
dark lashes sweeping low across her pinked cheeks. She was too embarrassed to
meet her friend’s eyes but she knew she couldn’t look at Christian either. Not
if he was kissing Charisse.
    Their chatter interrupted the flow of work again and this
time even Charisse stopped running her hands through Christian’s thick, black
hair long enough to glare at them. Jag was simply fed up with the constant
interruptions.
    “Would you two mind keeping it quiet back there?”
    “Okay, okay. We’ll make it easy on you,” Tess declared