Free The Good Enough Husband by Sylvie Fox Page B

onto his leather jacket on the pebble-strewn beach. “I’m used to it by now.”
    Hannah turned to aperture priority mode. She pressed the function button until her customized monochrome setting appeared on the screen. A wide-open aperture, black and white, and her favorite eighty-five millimeter portrait lens would suit Ben in this setting.
    Hannah’s hands felt sure and her stomach stopped roiling as she looked through the camera lens. This always happened when she lost herself in her craft. She asked him to try a myriad of poses. Whether he was sitting with his knees up, or squatting, or standing looking out into the distance, in every picture she made sure to focus on Ben’s incredible eyes. He never once looked away from her. Somewhere in her mind, she knew, knew he was looking into her soul. She hoped the big black camera masked her deception.
    Hannah lowered the shutter speed for the third time. The light was giving out on her. She’d shot on the beach countless times in Los Angeles, and evening fog had always been a godsend. The harsh California sunshine gave way to open shade as the marine layer pushed on shore. No matter how beautiful the subject, and there was no shortage of beautiful people in L.A., direct sunlight benefitted no one. But the fog here on the Lost Coast had come in thick and fast, bringing darkness. With regret, she realized her too-short session with Ben was over.
    Hannah pulled the cap from her jeans front pocket and snapped it over her lens.
    “That’s it?” Ben asked.
    She whistled for Cody and the canine came running. “There’s no light left out here.” A thought came to her, unbidden. Could she convince Ben to continue their session indoors? She thought she could adjust the light indoors to give her some great shots with a completely different mood.
    “Did you get what you need?” His question gave her the opening she needed.
    “I’d really like to get a few more. Would you be game?”
    “Absolutely.” Ben looked at the watch on his wrist.
    “Do you have to be somewhere?”
    “No, it’s only seven.” His eyes met hers. “I’m not quite ready to call it a night, if you’re not.” Her stomach bottomed out. Hannah opened the zip pouch of the camera bag and took out the nylon leash, trying and failing three times before hooking it to Cody’s collar.
    They made their way back with the sky darkening more quickly than she had ever seen it. She’d pulled the door closed only seconds before a first thunderclap sent Cody skidding under a wingback chair, tail between his legs.
    “He’ll be there the rest of the night.” Ben’s stomach rumbled in the too quiet house. “Are you hungry?” she asked.
    He shrugged, and smiled sheepishly. “Maybe a little.”
    “I threw together some chicken salad. Help yourself. I’m going to set up some lighting.” When she was focused on getting a great shot, all her hunger disappeared. Coupled with her attraction, she couldn’t imagine ever eating again.
    While he fiddled around in the kitchen, she grabbed the cand elabra from the dining room table. The heavy pewter and silver piece that had seemed gaudy and overwrought before, was perfect now. She placed it on a small cherry table in the bedroom turned study, and lit the candles with matches she’d found earlier. Hannah moved a heavy leather club chair in front of the water-streaked window. The water trailed an irregular but fascinating pattern down the smooth glass. She wanted to capture that. She got her camera and tripod and made the necessary adjustments.
    Ben’s entry into the small study startled her. Flickering light from the lit tapers was the only illumination in the otherwise dark room.
    “The chicken salad was good. You shouldn’t…” Ben trailed off.
    “Can you sit there?” Hannah asked, directing him to club chair. When he’d sat, she reached out to touch him, then pulled her hands back. “I’m sorry, do you mind if I…” she pantomimed arranging his