Free Skin by Karin Tabke

tomorrow morning we’ll get you into the studio and do some test shots. I want to nail a color scheme ASAP. Then we’ll brainstorm locations. I’m thinking beach, maybe a ranch. Yes, slap a pair of chaps and boots on you —”
    “Not without jeans.”
    Frankie laughed, the sound low and throaty. The drugs had mellowed her some and she was glad her arm didn’t throb. “C’mon, now, Reese, do you have any idea how hot it would be to have you in just a pair of chaps and boots and a Stetson, standing next to a stallion? Maybe even with a slight erection. You, not the horse.”
    Peals of laughter erupted when Reese shot her a look that would have split a lesser person in half. “We can caption it ‘Clash of the Stallions.’ ”
    “I’m not a piece of meat.”
    Frankie’s laughter died down some. “Yeah, you are. A big, juicy hunk of meat that is going to set my readers on fire.” She laughed again. “A big, juicy piece they’ll want to sink their teeth into.”
    At Reese’s silence Frankie poked him in the rib with her index finger. “How about I pay you double and we go on tour after the anniversary issue releases?”
    Reese shook his head.
    “Think about it. You can make a fortune with endorsements afterward, not to mention all the freebies you’ll get. Fiscally it will be a windfall.”
    “Yeah, for you.”
    “For you too. It could lead to all kinds of offers. Book deal, movie deal. I’ve got a feeling, Reese, if we play this right we’ll both win big.”
    And the bigger she won, the stronger her position would be within the family to retain control should Anthony bend any ears.
    She sat back into the comfortable captain seat, feeling smug. And that in light of her most arduous day.
    “So what perks do I get for being at your beck and call?”
    “Your face and nether parts splashed all over my magazine.”
    “I want more.”
    She knew where the conversation was leading. And a couple of years ago she might have bit. Turning in her seat to face him, she said, “Look, since we’re going to be working very closely for the next couple of weeks, let’s get a few things straight right off the bat.”
    Reese gave her a quick glance and a sly grin.
    She inhaled deeply and despite the narcotic, her cut stung. She winced. “I don’t do models. I don’t do employees. I don’t even do sex these days. Not that that is any of your business.”
    “What
do
you do?”
    “I work.”
    “That sounds boring.”
    “It works for me. Make it work for you.”
    “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t do models either. Or employees. And while I do do sex, I’m a self-proclaimed workaholic, so we should get along just fine.”
    “You forgot to mention you don’t do your employers.”
    “I know.”
    He flashed her another grin. He wasn’t getting it.
    “You and I will not have sex.”
    “Define sex.”
    “Trading of body fluids.”
    This time when he grinned the gesture nearly split his face in half. “I think that can be arranged.”
    “I can almost see the wheels turning in your head. Don’t try and trip me up, or I’ll replace you so fast your head will spin.”
    “Sure you will,” he said, then turned into an upscale condo complex. Security gates opened when he hit a hidden remote.
    They parked in a secured carport. As she reached for the door handle, Reese put a hand on her shoulder. “Let me just make sure there’s no one lingering who shouldn’t be.” He’d been watching the rearview mirror and felt comfortable they weren’t followed, but with her family, who the hell knew?
    Reese hopped out of the vehicle and gave the surrounding area a quick scrutiny. Ominous silence shrouded the night air. It was almost too quiet.
    He came back to the truck and opened Frankie’s door. “All clear.”
    “You sound like a cop.”
    He grinned at her. “I watch a lot of TV.”
    “You don’t strike me as the couch potato type.”
    “There’s a lot to be said for couch potatoes.”
    “I’m not