Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Chloe had postponed her dinner date with Blake, putting him off for four straight nights. She hadn’t intended to skip out on him, but she’d been knocked down by a killer case of the flu. The illness had put her in bed for two days before she graduated to resting on the couch for two more. As a result, she was days behind on her shooting schedule and scrambling to make up for it.
Blake had offered several times to take care of her, but she’d refused, claiming she didn’t want him to catch what she had. Even so, that hadn’t stopped him from making little deliveries outside her apartment door. One day, he’d left flowers, the next a quart of homemade chicken soup. Two days ago, she’d found an erotic romance novel. Inside Blake had written an inscription, telling her he hoped it would inspire her for the next time they went out. All it had done was leave her hot and bothered. And she’d been too worn out to use her vibrator to nip the problem in the bud. She’d read him the riot act for that after he called to see if she’d gotten his gift. Asshole had just chuckled and told her to hurry up and get better.
Chloe ran a comb through her damp hair and sighed. She’d gotten a shower first thing this morning, hoping it would wake her up and give her some sort of energy. She was tired of being…well…tired.
She dragged herself to the kitchen counter, fired up the coffeepot, then sat down to look at her calendar. If the models could be a bit flexible with their schedules, perhaps she could double up on shoots and still hit the publishing company’s deadline. She hated missing deadlines and refused to see the fundraiser lose even a single dollar due to her illness.
She picked up her cell and for the next hour, rearranged everything until she managed to fit in every single model. While Chloe was laid up in bed, her mother had managed to find guys for the last two months, so they had a full year’s worth of hotness ready to roll. All Chloe had to do now was dash from one end of New Orleans to the other every day, then spend her nights choosing the best photo for each month and enhancing it.
She looked at her schedule. Eleven photo shoots and twelve portraits to touch up in less than two weeks. She was screwed.
Her phone rang. She glanced at the number and sighed. Her last model. Blake was the only man who hadn’t answered when she’d called. “Hey, Blake.”
“Back in the land of the living?”
He’d called her every day since their impromptu hook-up on Tuesday afternoon. It was strange how easily they’d fallen into familiar patterns. Blake called her as soon as he got off duty and then again before bedtime. Their conversations had only touched on safe subjects—like their jobs, the weather, sports—but they’d become the highlight of each day for her.
She hadn’t questioned him about his disappearing act ten years earlier and they never addressed what his return in her life meant.
“Yeah,” she replied. “I’m back and sort of wishing I could crawl under the covers and hide again. There’s no way I’m going to hit this calendar deadline.”
Blake didn’t sound concerned. “Of course you can. I’m around if you need help.”
“Uh, thanks, but no thanks. I tried to give you some photography lessons a long time ago. All you managed to master was dark and blurry.”
Blake chuckled. “That was before I got my iPhone. Now I take great pictures.”
Chloe groaned.
“Besides, I wasn’t offering to take the photographs, just to lug your equipment, help you set up the shoots, stuff like that.”
“And you’re doing this all out of the goodness of your heart and not because you want to play chaperone while I’m taking pictures of the shirtless, hot guys, right?”
“Absolutely.” His tone was pure innocence, but she knew him better than that.
“Forget it. You’d just clam jam me.” She restrained her giggle at the silence that followed her comment, then he gave into curiosity.
“I give,” he said. “What the hell is a clam jam?”
“Female equivalent of a cock block.”
Blake snorted with laughter. “God. There is something seriously twisted and wrong with you. I blame it on all those brothers you grew up with.”
She leaned back in her chair, propping her feet up on the one across from her. She was smiling and happy for the first time in days. In less than five minutes, Blake had found a way to make the stress she was feeling over her work vanish and the tension in her shoulders subsided.
“So I see I missed your call. You putting off our date again?”
She had called him for that reason. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m wicked busy.”
“I understand.”
“Hey listen, I need to try to find a time to do your photo shoot. Are you still determined to take the pictures on your Harley by the lake?”
“Yep. And you’re riding with me.”
“I told you, Blake, my equipment?—”
“Downsize it as much as you can. I borrowed a big-ass motorcycle bag from a friend of mine. We can put your cameras and stuff in there.”
“What if it rains? My equipment costs?—”
He cut her off. “It’s waterproof.”
“Why do you want me to get on that bike again so badly?”
“Why are you so resistant?”
Chloe wasn’t sure how to answer. They’d spent that entire summer so long ago on his motorcycle. It was the last time she’d felt carefree, wild, over-the-moon happy. He’d also driven off into the sunset on that motorcycle. While it wasn’t logical, it was easier to forgive Blake, the cop, the man who didn’t exist all those years ago, and hold on to her anger toward his bad-boy biker persona.
“I just don’t think they’re safe.”
Blake snorted at her obvious lie. “What day did you leave open for me?”
“Let me see. I’m popping over to Justin’s office this afternoon to take the pictures of Ned.”
“No box of chocolates in bed?”
Chloe thought she detected the slightest trace of relief in Blake’s voice. “He wouldn’t go for that. The most he would agree to was an open shirt with a tie hanging around his neck. We thought it would look cool if he was sitting at the head of a conference table. Set it up for today because none of the employees will be in the office since it’s a Saturday.”
“Sounds very tasteful.”
No doubt she and Justin had given him a bad impression of what the calendar was about. Truth was all the pictures would be PG with none of the men exposing more than their chests and arms. Her musician had been sitting sideways on his piano bench, shirtless, in a vest and simple black pants as he toyed with a couple of keys. While she’d selected the shot she wanted to use, she’d come down with the flu before she could tweak the print.
“It’s going to be a classy calendar.”
“Of mimbos,” he added.
She frowned, then a light went on. “You were eavesdropping on my phone call with Mama that first day.”
“Yep.”
She grinned wickedly. “Well, if you’re expecting me to take it back or revise my opinion, I won’t.”
Blake chuckled. “You will. Eventually. I’ll make sure of it.”
His deeply spoken threat was laced with just a hint of sexual malice. Chloe grew wet and warm at the thought of it. She pressed her legs together, suddenly annoyed at the way Blake could turn her into a raving sex maniac in mere seconds.
“In fact, what are you wearing right now?”
Chloe wanted to ignore his question, but that damn dirty book he’d given her had fired up some needs she really wanted taken care off. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed after her shower, just donning her robe.
She decided to play hard to get. “Why do you want to know?”
“Tell me, Chloe.”
“Just a robe.”
“Nothing under it?”
She shook her head, trying to ignore how hot his questions were making her. “Nothing.”
“Slip it open, but keep it on.”
Chloe rested her phone between her shoulder and head as she untied the belt around her robe.
She heard Blake chuckle softly. “There’s this feature on cells called speakerphone. Turn it on and put your phone down where you can still hear me. You’re going to need both hands.”
“Blake,” she started.
“Just do it.”
“Where are you?” she asked, suddenly worried about him initiating phone sex with her in the middle of the precinct.
“I’m at home. On my couch. Just got off-duty.”
She turned the speakerphone on and placed the cell on the table. “Okay.”
“Where are you in your apartment?”
“My kitchen table.”
“Nice. I want you to do what I tell you. Follow my instructions completely. If I suspect you’re cheating, I’ll come over there, toss you over my knee, and paint your ass red with my hand until you learn to obey.”
The feminist part of her was outraged and tempted to hang up on him, but, at the moment, her libido was currently making all decisions.
Blake appeared to have interpreted her silence correctly. “We both want the same thing right now.” His voice sounded more distant. Apparently he’d put her on speakerphone as well.
“What are you doing now?” she asked.
“Unzipping my jeans.”
She licked her lips, sorry she hadn’t suggested postponing her meeting with Ned and inviting Blake over.
Before she could make the offer, Blake took charge. “Cup your breasts. Lift them up and squeeze them.”
Chloe dragged her hands along her stomach, surprised by the sudden sensitivity of her skin. How could Blake get her to this point with no more than a few words? She held her breasts, her nipples budded, ready.
“Squeeze them hard. There’s no point in denying you don’t like your pleasure laced with pain.”
Her face flushed, the response caused by embarrassment and need. She’d tried to hide her darker kinks from other lovers, always feeling slightly strange for her desires. She’d never had to do that with Blake. He’d just seen what she wanted and given it to her. No questions, no qualms. Hell, most of the time it seemed as if he wanted it even more than she did. Something she didn’t think possible.
She applied the pressure to her breasts, pinching her nipples roughly. Her breathing grew heavier.
“Are you touching your nipples?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Pinch them hard. Let me hear that pretty whimper of yours.”
She tightened her fingers, suddenly self-conscious of her sounds.
Blake’s voice when he spoke again, seemed breathless. “You can take more pain. Stop holding back.”
She gave in to the desire, pinching her nipples harder than she’d ever dared. The sharp sting sent zings of pure pulsing arousal straight to her pussy. She pressed her legs together to capture the heat and moisture.
“Are you wet, Chloe?”
“God.” She felt lightheaded with need. “Yes.”
“I’m so hard right now. My hand is wrapped around my cock, but it’s not the same as being inside you.”
“Come over.” The invitation was out before she could consider why she shouldn’t issue it.
“I can’t. You have to go to work soon. We’re just going to have to let this be enough for now.”
This was nowhere near enough. Chloe fought to restrain her brief flash of temper, a disposition her mother said she’d inherited from Papa Lewis. Like her father, she was prone to impatience and while their tempers ran hot, they usually only blazed hot for a moment before they were able to rein it back in. “Dammit, Blake.”
“Shh. It’s time to get serious. Keep one hand on your breast, while you drop the other lower. I want you to tell me how hot and wet your pussy is for me.”
She obeyed his request, opening her legs. She drew her fingers along the seam, gasping at the sensations provoked by that simple touch. “Oh,” she cried.
“You sound so sexy, Chloe. God, baby, you have no idea what you’re doing to me. The head of my cock is seeping come and my balls are tight. We’re going to have to move fast. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold off.”
The gruffness of his voice told her he was telling the truth. Chloe wasn’t worried. It wouldn’t take much to push her over at this point.
“Rub your clit. Push your fingers against it hard and fast.”
Chloe did as he asked. She groaned then released her breast, using her free hand to grasp the edge of the kitchen table. She needed something to hold on to, to keep her grounded.
“My cock is going to explode. Are you close?”
“Yes,” she hissed, her fingers familiar with this motion. She was no stranger to masturbation and she knew all too well how to get herself off. Even so, this was way faster and so much hotter than anything she’d ever done. Knowing Blake was on the other end of the phone, imagining his hand stroking his own cock, his head thrown back against his couch with his eyes closed. It was as if he was sitting right in front of her, each of them performing their shows in person.
“Push two fingers into that hot cunt. Shove them in deep and fast.”
Chloe knew what would happen if she did that. Her climax would be inevitable.
“Do it. Now, Chloe.”
She pressed her fingers deep, thrusting them, pretending it was Blake’s cock that was pounding inside her.
“Add another finger, baby. Make it bigger, thicker.”
She obeyed, not bothering to slow her rhythm. She released the table and added her other hand to the game, fingering her clit, touching that one spot…that one place that made her…
She cried out loudly. “Oh my God. Blake.” Chloe doubled over, her head flying toward her lap as her orgasm racked her frame. It was potent, powerful. Overwhelming.
She could tell from Blake’s rough grunts that he was with her. She closed her eyes, letting herself see the jets of come erupting from his cock, landing on his shirt as the stroking of his hand slowed.
For several long moments, the phone line was quiet except for the soft sound of Blake’s breathing. He was obviously listening to the same thing from her.
“You still there, baby?”
She grinned, dragging her fingers from her body, struggling to sit upright once more. “I’m going to need another shower.”
He chuckled. “Wish I was there to scrub your back.”
“That’s all you’d scrub?”
“You ready to go again? So soon?”
She groaned at the thought. If he were here, she’d definitely give it the college try, but the truth was she was zapped. While the flu had passed, she suspected she was still a few days away from full-strength. “No. Unfortunately, I’m not.”
He seemed to understand. “I’ll take a rain check for the shower.”
Damn man kept making these grand assumptions about their future. Granted, her actions weren’t helping to dissuade him. Even so, she still had too much pride for her own good.
“You may be waiting a damn long time to collect on that. I’m still not planning to see you after the photo shoot.”
Blake wasn’t deterred. “You will. So when are we meeting to take the pictures?”
She glanced at the clock. She really did need to shower and dress then gather up her stuff for the shoot with Ned. She was in serious danger of being late. “What does tomorrow look like?” She hadn’t scheduled anything for Sunday, pretending it was so she wouldn’t miss Sunday dinner. Now that she was asking, she knew it was because she’d intended to give Sunday to him.
“I’m on-duty.”
Chloe tried to ignore her disappointment.
“But I’m off next Sunday.”
So it would be another whole week before she saw him again. Silently, she chastised herself. What was wrong with her? She was supposed to be over Blake Mills, not counting the minutes until she saw him again.
She tried to chalk up her weakness to the flu. Clearly she was still sick and not thinking clearly. “How about next Sunday afternoon after dinner at Mama’s then? We’re usually finished eating by two, so we’ll have a few hours of good light.”
“Is that an invitation to dinner?” he asked.
“Are you sure you really want to push your luck and step into the lion’s den again?”
“Mama Lewis will protect me. She likes me.”
Chloe wanted to deny that, but he was right. Her mother had always had a soft spot for Blake. Chloe blamed it on her Mama’s tendency to root for the underdog.
“You know the drill. Table is loaded with food by noon. Get there by then or we’re starting without you.”
Chloe clicked off without saying goodbye, hoping that would make it clear she didn’t want to see him between now and then. She rolled her eyes.
Sure you don’t.
There was no way to ignore how excited she was about next Sunday.
By the following Friday, Chloe was regretting agreeing to help out with her mother’s damn calendar even more than before. If she never saw another shirtless, beefcake, prima donna asshole again in her life, it would be too soon. With the exception of Ned—whose photo shoot was a blast—and a lovely pediatrician, the last five guys had run the gamut from God’s gift to women to more demanding than J. Lo on tour.
Today’s shoot was the one she’d been dreading the most. With good reason. The manhandler had arrived in full-force.
Javier Ramsey was one of New Orleans’ premiere chefs, his restaurant in the French Quarter winning national acclaim from all the critics and making it a local hotspot whenever the rich and famous came to town. Reservations for dinner were booked months in advance.
Now Chloe was beginning to understand why he was so talented. It appeared he had at least a dozen extra hands, all of them managing to touch her constantly, and while his supposedly glancing blows hadn’t crossed the line to inappropriateness yet, he was getting damn close.
Chloe reached up to adjust the lighting once more. Even though she’d told Javier to stand still so she could get it right, the man was behind her in an instant. He placed one hand on her hip as the other met hers on the light. His bare chest pressed against her back and she stifled the urge to curse. Their close proximity drew her attention to his erect cock.
Great. This wasn’t going to end well.
Javier had elected to wear just an apron, and while she knew he had boxers on beneath it, they wouldn’t appear in the picture. It was the most risqué portrait she’d done thus far and she was a little bit worried about her mother’s response when she saw it. Of course, none of that would matter if Mr. Hands didn’t stand still long enough for her to snap his picture.
“Javier,” she said, her temper beginning to pique despite her attempt to remain calm. She’d been trying to set things up for nearly forty-five minutes, but Javier kept changing his mind about his pose. It was mid-morning and she wondered how long he could continue to stall before he’d have to give in and let her take the damn picture. The restaurant was opening in a few hours.
During their initial meeting, he’d sat too close to her on her couch as they’d discussed their ideas for the calendar. He had asked her out, but she’d refused. Then he’d played the French card, kissing her on both cheeks as he left. That wouldn’t have bothered her if he hadn’t lingered on the second kiss and placed it a bit to close to her earlobe, adding a bit of hot breath to the touch.
The guy squicked her out. Majorly. He’d called a few times since then, but she’d sent him straight to voicemail.
“I don’t want you to burn yourself,” he murmured, his lips too close to her ear for comfort.
She tried to take a step away, but he tightened his grip on her hip.
“I really need you to stand over there so I can make sure the direction is correct.”
“You are a very beautiful woman, Chloe.”
She sighed and wondered how much it would piss her mother off if she brought her heel down on Javier’s foot and crushed all of his toes. Given his behavior, she suspected her mother would encourage it. However, she recalled the fundraiser committee’s glee when the famous chef had agreed to participate. They’d been thrilled, claiming his presence alone would sell tons of calendars.
“Thank you,” she replied through gritted teeth. “I think the lighting is fine now. You can take your place.” She didn’t give a shit if his whole face was in shadow. She was snapping a few shots and getting the hell out of here.
Javier didn’t appear anxious to move away, but mercifully, his sous chef arrived, an Amazonian woman named Elise whom Chloe had liked the moment they’d met. Javier released her and moved back to his place by the chopping board.
“What do you want?” he barked at his assistant, clearly annoyed by the interruption.
The woman must have been accustomed to his rude manner. “If we’re going to serve the tarte au pistou tonight, I need to begin preparing the ingredients before the rest of the staff arrives.”
“We’re not finished yet. You’ll have to wait. Go away.”
Elise seemed unfazed by her boss’s anger. She walked over to Chloe. “How much longer will you be?” While her question was innocuous, the concerned look on Elise’s face proved the woman was really wondering if she was okay.
Chloe tried to decide if there was any way she could finish her job without making a scene. Perhaps Elise could help. She handed the woman her phone and spoke quietly, hoping Javier couldn’t overhear. “Do you mind clicking on my contacts, calling Blake Mills and telling him that I’m running late for our meeting. Tell him it would save time if he could meet me here.”
“Of course.” Elise gave her a subtle wink—all too aware that Chloe was calling in the cavalry—and took the phone out into the main restaurant.
Blake was at work and they didn’t have any meeting scheduled. Hopefully he’d catch the drift that Chloe needed help and he’d come over. She wasn’t all that worried about Javier trying something. Chloe was more than capable of fending off an overzealous womanizer. The problem was Javier wasn’t responding to her verbal warnings. All she had left was her right hook. If she pulled that out, he’d withdraw his agreement to participate.
Chloe sucked at peaceful resolutions. She’d grown up in a houseful of boys. All disputes were handled quickly and efficiently…physically. While her brothers had never lifted a hand to hurt her when they were all kids, that hadn’t kept them from wrestling or tickling her into submission in order to get a toy or the last dessert.
Javier started to walk back toward her, but Chloe threw her hand up to halt him. “No, don’t move. The lighting is perfect and I don’t want to lose my shot.”
The spotlight was nowhere near right, but it was close enough. Javier seemed to struggle for a reason to approach her. Failing that, he returned to his original place. She adjusted the camera lens, tweaking the focus and the aperture. She also awaited the inevitable. They’d gotten this far in the process three times before and each time, Javier had declared the pose wrong for some asinine reason or another. The only thing giving her hope was that the man was beginning to run out of places in the kitchen to stand.
Sure enough, just as she bent to click a shot, Javier threw up his hands. “This feels too awkward. I would never stand like this while cooking.”
Chloe took a deep breath and counted to ten before speaking. “You aren’t cooking. You’re posing for a calendar. The idea of this shot isn’t to show you working, but to capture you in your workplace. You’re the one who chose to take the picture in the kitchen. Trust me. This pose is the best. Now hold still.”
She plastered a fake smile on her face and decided if the asshole wanted to continue to bitch, he’d have to do so while she snapped away. She started clicking despite Javier’s refusal to pose properly. If the bastard thought he was going to blow this shoot and drag her back here again for another attempt, he was sorely mistaken. She’d give money out of her own pocket to send in another photographer. She knew a couple of large, no-nonsense male colleagues who would be only too happy to do her a favor.
Chloe pretended Javier was doing a great job, even though she could see from his tight expression he was trying to come up with a way to stall. “Those are great. Now, what if you pick up one of the kitchen utensils? Grab that silver bowl. Maybe you’d feel better using props.”
Javier hesitated, but Chloe kept snapping. Maybe the gods would take mercy on her and one of the shots would actually look good.
“Perhaps you could show me what you mean.”
It was a deliberate attempt to draw her closer. Chloe wasn’t biting. “You’re the cooking expert. I’m just the photographer. I’m going to switch lenses. Just find a way that feels comfortable and natural.” Chloe bent to grab the lens, intent on making the change as quickly as possible.
When she looked at him once more, Javier was grinning, his pose perfect. Hallelujah. The guy must have caught her hint. She focused and started to snap.
She’d only taken a few pictures when Javier turned around, pretending to reach for a pan hanging from a rack behind him. Chloe took two more pictures before her finger caught up with her brain.
“Where the hell are your boxers?”
Javier glanced over his shoulder, his slimy smile wide. “You said comfortable and natural.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Chloe’s head was beginning to pound, her patience officially gone.
“It would be easier if you came over here and posed me the way you wanted.”
Chloe opened her mouth to inform the idiot the only way this would be easier was if he had a fucking brain, but at that moment, she was saved.
“Hey, Chloe. Whoa,” Blake said, stopping mid-step. “Thought this calendar was PG.”
Elise hovered just behind Blake. She giggled when she caught sight of her boss’s bare ass.
“This is a closed photo shoot,” Javier said furiously as he turned back around, the apron mercifully covering something Chloe really didn’t want to see.
“I’m going to go adjust the menu. There’s no way we’re going to get the tarts made today.” Before she left, Elise glanced at Blake, then gave Chloe an impressed look that said she approved of the cavalry.
Blake walked over to Chloe and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to stick around. I’m Chloe’s assistant.”
Javier’s face went red with frustration and fury. “I’m not comfortable working with another man in the room.”
“I can see why,” Blake murmured.
Chloe wavered between laughing hysterically and crying her eyes out. She’d been running a hundred miles an hour since recovering from the flu. Now she was starting to think a relapse of the illness would be a welcome respite.
“Have your assistant wait outside.” Javier drew out the word assistant to prove he wasn’t buying Blake’s lie.
Blake tucked a stray hair behind her ear before cupping her cheeks in his hands. The action was one of pure possessiveness. He didn’t speak as he studied her face. She wasn’t sure what he saw there. Probably because there were too many things to see. Chloe was tired, frustrated and, if she was being completely honest, somewhat amused by Javier’s ridiculous antics now that Blake was here and she felt safe.
Mercifully, Blake didn’t pick a fight with Javier. Instead, he made it clear that Chloe was spoken for.
Even though technically, she wasn’t.
“Take your pictures, Chloe. I’ll be right outside. How much longer do you need?”
Chloe glanced at Javier and saw the man’s narrowed eyes. The chef didn’t like discovering she wasn’t available.
Even though technically, she was.
“Five minutes.” It would be a miracle if she got a useable shot in that amount of time, but she didn’t trust herself alone with the asshat chef for one second longer than that.
“There’s no way we can finish in five?—”
Blake cut off Javier’s complaint. “I’ll be back here in five minutes to help you pack up your stuff.”
“But—” Javier blustered.
Blake tugged his phone out of his back pocket. “I’ll make a few calls while I wait.”
“Thanks, Blake.”
Blake walked out of the kitchen, but from the clomping of his boots, she could tell he hadn’t taken two steps into the other room before he stopped.
“Is that your boyfriend?” Javier asked. “I thought you said you weren’t seeing anyone.”
Foolishly, she had made that comment at their first meeting. She could only assume that was what had triggered open season on Chloe for the guy.
She glanced over her shoulder, certain Blake had remained within listening distance. She’d love to lie and say he was her boyfriend, simply to get the octopus off her back. But, knowing Blake, he’d find some way to make her repay him for that deceit. Probably with sex.
And with that thought, her libido reared its ugly head, assuring her it was a price it was more than willing to pay. It figured the one man who turned her into a raving sex maniac was also the one who’d broken her heart…and her trust.
Chloe simply nodded in response to Javier’s question. Maybe that would cool his engines and Blake would be none-the-wiser about her pretending he was her boyfriend.
“Yes what? Yes, you’re seeing him or yes, you aren’t seeing anyone?”
“Javier, I don’t see why my personal life has any bearing on this photo shoot. I’m here to take your picture for this calendar and that’s it. Now, if you would just put your boxers back on and pick up that whisk, I could?—”
Javier was across the room in three long strides. He grasped her shoulders tightly, tugging her against his chest. When he spoke, his voice was quiet enough that Chloe knew he understood how close Blake was as well. “You must know how much I want you, Chloe.”
“Let go of me, Javier. I’m really , really not interested.”
The chef paused and Chloe got the sense he was confused.
“Hasn’t anyone ever said no to you before?” she asked.
He chuckled, the sound husky and deep. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not.”
His answer—so completely cocky—made her laugh. Javier released her, joining in her mirth.
She placed her hands in her front pockets. “Wow. You really are something.”
“And yet, you’re not interested?”
She shook her head. “Sorry.”
“Not nearly as much as I am. Your boyfriend is a very lucky man.”
For the first time, Chloe could see why other women would be attracted to the chef. After all, he was rich and famous, and attractive in a tall, boyishly handsome way. He rubbed elbows with Hollywood elite as well as international royalty. And he could cook.
However, none of that was even remotely appealing to her. Her ideal man had dark hair and crystal-blue eyes with a muscular body that wouldn’t stop. He had a charming smile, wicked wit and a tattoo on his upper left arm.
She made herself stop listing attributes. She was describing Blake. Dammit.
“Our time appears to be running out. Shall we try to get in a good shot before your assistant returns?”
Chloe nodded, relieved when Javier tugged his boxers on—though he kept his back turned toward her—making a show of it. Then he turned on the charm for the camera, posing as if he’d walked straight off the pages of GQ . Of all her models thus far, Javier was the most natural, knowing how to highlight his gorgeous features to perfection.
Chloe had only snapped about two dozen shots when Blake returned, but she wasn’t worried. She could probably fill the entire calendar with just the last few pictures of Javier and the thing would sell.
Blake didn’t speak immediately. Chloe wondered if he could sense the tide had turned. She flipped through the images on her viewfinder and, satisfied with the results, she looked at Javier and smiled. “All set.”
Javier reached for his pants and shirt as Blake helped her pack up all of her equipment. Given the end result, she felt guilty for calling him. Though she suspected Javier wouldn’t have backed off if he hadn’t seen Blake in the flesh. And really, if the chef had touched her one more time, there was no force on earth that would have kept her from cold-cocking the guy. Then Blake would have been called in anyway…to arrest her for assault.
“Sorry for bothering you when you were on duty.”
Blake folded the legs on her tripod. “No problem. I actually wasn’t far from here, working on a case. I’d just finished interviewing a witness and was heading back to the precinct to type up the report. Your timing was perfect.”
Blake had told her a little bit about the details of his job. She wondered how he could stand to spend so much of his day dealing with anger and sadness and pain. He investigated cases involving domestic violence, child abuse and rape.
Javier walked over to say goodbye when they finished packing up. He gave Chloe two platonic kisses on the cheek, then—to her dismay—told Blake he was a very lucky man. Blake didn’t bother to correct him. Instead, he gave her a wink that told her she was in his debt.
That didn’t bug her as much as she might have expected.
Chloe retrieved her cell phone from Elise, thanked her for her help and she and Blake stepped out into the bright sunshine together.
“What’s next on your list for today?” Blake asked as he placed her bags in the trunk of her car.
“I’m taking pictures of Caliph. At the tattoo parlor.”
Blake chuckled. “Sounds like your mom wore him down.”
“I think it was actually a tag-team effort. Jennifer was fairly convincing too.”
“Guess I don’t have to worry about your safety with your brother around. That’s a shame. I was enjoying being your bodyguard.”
“I shouldn’t have called you, but I was dangerously close to pulverizing that guy, which would have pissed my mother off. I thought maybe if you showed up and I pretended that you were…” She wasn’t sure why it was hard for her to say “boyfriend” to him, but for some reason, it felt wrong.
“Your boyfriend,” he finished for her.
She nodded. “I thought that would make him back off and it worked. So I owe you one.”
Blake reached for her. Chloe didn’t bother stepping away. Not when she wanted him to hold her. She was beginning to crave his kisses more than chocolate and that was saying something. “I think I like having you in my debt.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I wouldn’t call this a debt. Just one friend owing another a favor. A very small favor.”
Blake placed his lips against her cheek, the touch more caress than kiss. His breath was warm against her skin, sexy and sweet, all at the same time. “When can I collect my favor?”
Her eyes had drifted closed, but now she opened them, her gaze taking in the busy street behind them.
What was she doing? Blake Mills had stolen from her family, broken her heart, left without a trace for years and now she was letting him walk right back into her life without so much as a hi or bye. She was letting her body make the decisions—choosing sex over common sense.
She took a step away. Blake looked as if he’d try to pull her back, so she added another step, more distance. “I can’t do this again.”
“Do what?”
She pointed to herself, then him. “This. Us. I’ve been down this road before and it didn’t end well.”
“I’m not the same man I was when I was nineteen years old, Chloe.”
“Why did you leave?” The words fell out unbidden, unwanted. Chloe hadn’t meant to ask because she didn’t want to know. In her mind, there was no reason good enough for him to do what he’d done. None.
Blake ran a hand through his dark hair. In the sunlight, it was so black it shimmered like water. It betrayed the Italian heritage on his mother’s side, which was actually the only thing Chloe knew about Blake’s mother apart from the fact she hadn’t been around when he grew up.
“I was wondering when you were going to ask me that.”
“Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”
Blake frowned. “Of course it does.” Before he could say anything more, Blake’s cell phone beeped. He read the screen and sighed. “I have to go. Domestic dispute. The neighbor just called it in.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’m late for my shoot with Caliph anyway.”
“I want to talk about this, Chloe.”
She walked toward the driver’s side door and opened it. “I meant what I said. You and I are ancient history, Blake. I think it would be best if we just left all of this in the past and got back to life as normal.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I wasn’t asking.”
Blake’s eyes darkened with a determination that told her she wouldn’t win this fight. “I’ll be at Mama Lewis’s house on Sunday for dinner.”
Fuck. The photo shoot. “I have a friend who is a photographer. She’s really?—”
“No. You’re taking the pictures.”
“Blake. Please. Why can’t you just let this go?”
He walked toward her, cornering her. “I made a mistake, Chloe. Shit, I’ve fucked up a million times. But if I let you walk away right now, without explaining, without fighting for you, it’ll be the biggest mistake of my life.”
He took advantage of the fact her mouth had fallen open. Blake’s lips landed on hers, kissing her roughly, telling her in no uncertain terms that this was nowhere near over.