Free Camera Shy by Lauren Gallagher Page B

"Not many people come down this hallway." Their loss . "Your work is . . . amazing. Really."
    "Thank you." He looked at the pictures for a moment, a distant expression in his eyes. His gaze flicked from the prints, to Simone, then back to the prints. "I appreciate a beautiful female figure."
    Simone's cheeks burned as she looked back at the woman shadowed by blinds.

    They stood in silence for a long time. Jason pretended to look at the picture, but it was really Allyson's reflection in the glass that held his attention. There was an odd expression on her face, as if she had something to say, but couldn't find the words. Taking a breath, she opened her mouth to speak, but quickly snapped her jaw shut and looked away.
    He turned to her. "What is it?"
    "Nothing," she said quickly, shifting her weight. But there was a tension in the air, something unspoken.
    "Breakfast?" he said, hoping to lighten the mood.
    She smiled, but the tension lingered. "Of course."

    Simone followed him into the kitchen, but her mind stayed with the photographs on the wall. The women looked so perfect, so . . . comfortable. She spent her entire career—and most of her personal life these days—in front of a camera, but she'd never posed nude. Never. Even the most damning photos of her, the ones that had blown her affairs open and destroyed her marriage, weren't fully nude, and they certainly weren't deliberately posed.

    She wondered what it would be like, posing nude in front of the camera. In front of Jason's camera. He made her feel so at ease. He made her feel sexy. But what if the pictures got out? That was just what she needed. As if her career wasn't in enough trouble without " Simone Farrell Poses Nude " all over every newsstand. And—
    "Allyson?"
    Jason's voice startled her. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"
    "I'm fine," she said with a smile she hoped convinced him. "Just daydreaming." He smiled back. "Coffee?"
    "Please. Black."
    "Have a seat, breakfast is coming up."
    As they walked across the living room, something crunched under her bare foot. On the floor, she found a small, white button with a single tentacle of frayed thread still attached. She bent and picked it up, turning it in her fingers as she followed Jason into the dining room. The memory of him tearing his shirt apart, of the ravenous hunger in his eyes, sent a shudder through her.
    "Black coffee," he said, setting a mug on the table. He looked at the button in her hand and laughed, a mixture of mischievousness and shyness flickering across his eyes.
    "I guess I must have dropped that last night."
    She set it on the table and sat to drink her coffee. They chatted lightly as he went about cooking breakfast, but all the while, her eyes kept drifting to the button on the table.
    She couldn't remember a time when a man had wanted her that much, or, for that matter, when she'd wanted a man that much. She couldn't remember a time when a man wanted to have his skin against hers like Jason did last night, to the point he'd sooner tear the buttons off his shirt than take the time to unfasten them. Last night was exactly what she'd been craving. He'd scratched her itch, calmed the maddening desire, and yet it wasn't enough. He'd satisfied her several times over,

    but still she wanted more. He'd met her need for sex, but she'd never before had to contend with the need for sex with Jason .
    After only one night with him, she had no doubt he was going to be a hard habit to break. Guilt coiled in her gut. Sooner or later she had to face reality; this couldn't go on. But not now. Not yet. Reality could wait.
    "Do you like movies?" he asked.
    Her blood turned to ice. She gripped her coffee cup, hoping he didn't see her reaction to his benign question. "Sure. Some." Oh God, what if he's a movie fanatic? Sooner or later, he'll recognize me. He'll know .
    "I've got a pretty big collection," he said. "Older stuff, mostly. And foreign films." He wrinkled his nose. "I'm not really into the