Chapter 3
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T ucker stood as Brynn approached. She was at least five foot six, reed-thin and narrow-hipped. Her long legs closed the distance between them in a slow stroll that kicked up his heartbeat. She had a dancer’s grace to the way she moved. As she got closer, he noticed how her large, sherry-brown eyes dominated her heart-shaped face and contrasted with her pale, butterscotch-streaked hair. The lush shape of her lips snagged his attention for a second or two. The light dusting of freckles across her nose made her seem younger than he’d expected. But there was nothing young in the wariness he read in her features.
Despite the look in her eyes, he felt the heavy punch of attraction to the bottoms of his feet. Her body was sleek and toned. While watching her, he’d seen her twist, turn, bend, and squat to get the needed shots. He’d never realized how physical taking photos could be.
When she was a few feet closer, he said, “Tucker Giles.” And extended his hand.
She nodded. “Brynn Barrington.” Her handshake was all business. Her voice held a sexy rasp that upped his level of interest.
“Natalie didn’t call you to clear this meeting, did she?” he guessed.
“No.” Despite her flat tone, her voice held some heat.
Shit! “If this is a bad time, I can move along, and you can call me when it’s not.”
She studied him for a moment, taking him in with a slow, thorough assessment. Some of the tension eased from her features. “No. It’s okay. I have time to talk.” She moved to the bench and sat down on the edge.
Something in her posture, the bow-tight tension in her body, told him not to crowd her. He left space between them when he sat down.
After a few seconds of silence, he said, “How long do you have before the shoot in Australia, Brynn?”
“Five months.”
That was a reasonable time frame for her to learn to scuba—depending on how dedicated she was to it. But the sport wasn’t for everyone.
“Do you want to learn to scuba? Or is this something Natalie pushed you into?”
A quick, wry smile curved her lips, and then she was gone. “I make my living photographing ads for magazines, doing stock photos, and some private shoots, but mostly commercial stuff. I also do some graphic design for websites. It’s steadier, and the pay is better. I’ve been doing this since I graduated college. Two years ago, I created a travel blog and a podcast that I do about embracing new experiences. Natalie saw it, saw my photos, and decided to hire me to do some photography for the magazine. The podcast has boosted magazine sales, and recently, she’s been pushing me to do more and more things. Scuba is one of them.”
“But you don’t really have an interest in scuba?”
“I haven’t tried it yet. I don’t know if I’ll like it or not.”
He’d always liked a challenge. Everything about Brynn Barrington screamed challenge in big, bold letters.
She looked toward the jungle gym briefly, then back at him. “I surf a little. That was one of the things I took up last year. I feel comfortable in the water. I’ve been swimming since I was four.” Sharing that small bit of information seemed difficult for her.
She was built like a swimmer, and she’d look great in a wetsuit. He jerked his thoughts back to business. “Learning to scuba and learning how to shoot photos underwater are two separate challenges. You can’t be distracted when you’re fifty feet or more below the surface. You have to be aware of your surroundings at all times, stay on top of the amount of time you spend on the bottom, and know how to handle things if your equipment malfunctions. It’s a fun sport, but it can be challenging and dangerous as well.”
“Did you explain that to Natalie?” she asked.
“Yes, I did.”
She fell silent for a moment. “She wants the magazine to succeed above anything else.”
“And you?” he asked.
“I won’t be pushed into doing anything I’m uncomfortable with. I don’t depend on her or the magazine for my income.”
“Good, because that lady’s pushy as hell.”
A small smile shot across her features. She was beginning to relax with him.
“How do you know Natalie?” she asked.
“We met when she was doing freelance work for another publication. It’s been a while since she interviewed me. Maybe four years.” He turned toward her. “Look. Natalie isn’t the one traveling halfway around the globe, diving in unfamiliar waters, and using equipment that doesn’t come as naturally to you as the camera you used today. You’ll be wise not to let her influence you too much.”
She looked up, and her gaze settled on him. “Did you watch me while I was working?”
“I’ve only been here about half an hour. I just caught the last few minutes of your shoot. The way you use your camera makes it seem like it’s an extension of your body and your vision.”
“It is.” She released the straps from her pack from around her waist and rocked forward to pull it free. She set it on the ground. She first removed the memory card from the camera and then the lens. She secured the card into a plastic sleeve and pocketed it, then packed both the camera body and lens into the pack and zipped it. She lifted it protectively onto the seat between her and Tucker, then settled back.
“Have you been to Australia?” she asked.
He’d thought about it, but Uncle Sam always had other ideas. “Not yet. Maybe one day.”
“Because it’s not a trouble spot?” she asked.
So, Natalie had told her he was a SEAL. He’d thought she might just say he was in the Navy. “The Navy likes to keep active-duty personnel close in case they need to be called up at a moment’s notice. We have to file paperwork and apply for special permission to leave the country. And we have to accumulate the necessary leave.”
“You have a pushy boss, too.”
She had no idea. He shrugged. “I knew what I was getting into when I signed on the dotted line.”
“I haven’t yet—signed a contract with Natalie for this assignment, that is.”
“So, if you don’t feel comfortable diving, you’re not obligated to go.” He agreed with that, but it would be a shame if she missed out on the trip.
“Natalie’s hoping I’ll get the diving bug, and underwater photography will be a new skill I’ll want to pursue.”
“Is it?”
Her smile was rueful and much more natural. “It probably will be. I’m obsessed with what I do, and I think I might enjoy it. I did buy a few pieces of equipment when I was surfing, but I didn’t tell Natalie.”
He grinned. “Was a wet suit one of those pieces of equipment?”
“Of course.” She hunched her shoulders as though ashamed. “And an underwater housing for my favorite camera and some lights and a strobe or two.”
He chuckled. “When do you want to start?”
She leaned forward to tug her phone free of the back pocket of her jeans and scrolled through her calendar. “I need to download and edit the pictures I took today and get them to the company in the next couple of days. I have four other shoots this week. One for a real estate company and one for an animal rescue. And two for commercial things. But I’m free Sunday.”
He was free most weekends…unless Uncle Sam said otherwise. “Okay. I’ll need your cell number. If something…work-related comes up to interfere with our plans, I’ll call or text you.”
He opened his phone to the contact screen and handed it to her to type in her number. When she did and handed it back, he accessed it to text her his number.
“You’ll start out in a swimming pool,” he said.
“A pool?”
“You have to learn the basics before you take the leap. The safest place for that is a pool.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding.
“I’ll get things organized and text you the address.”
“Besides my wet suit, what should I bring?”
“Nothing. I’ll supply the equipment. Natalie and I already discussed it.”
“Okay.” She rose, and he followed suit.
Her dark eyes held just a hint of warmth. “Thank you, Tucker.”
She was lowering the walls enough to call him by name. Her tone triggered a quick smile and other physical responses he tried to ignore. This was business; he needed to remember that. “I’ll walk you to your car if you’re ready to leave.”
“You don’t have to.”
He shrugged, keeping the movement casual. “I’m leaving, too. Besides, my dad taught me better manners than that.” He quashed the urge to ask her out for coffee or food. She’d dive right back into her shell. He reached for her pack and was surprised by the weight of it.
He matched his stride to hers as they strolled to the parking lot. He stood beside her SUV and struggled unsuccessfully not to check out the rounded curve of her ass while she stretched to transfer her equipment from her pack to a compartmentalized backpack and secured it with the seat belt in the back seat of the vehicle. He opened the front door for her to slide in.
Keeping it professional, he said, “I’ll see you on Sunday. Have a good week.” He shut the door.
He gave a wave and strode to his own vehicle. He watched her back up and pull out before getting into his Jeep.
Brynn Barrington’s actions were a contrast in behaviors. Natalie had mentioned she embraced extreme sports like skydiving, yet she was spooked by a guy calling her on the phone in a public place. The distance she projected, even when she was being friendly, could be just a natural part of her personality, but he didn’t think so. He found it a puzzle and a challenge.
He’d seen her travel blog, which was probably the only reason he’d taken on this gig. The whole message of embracing life in all experiences and using those experiences to fill the void, heal trauma, and bring the participant joy had struck a chord with him.
She was a professional photographer and graphic designer. She had a social media presence and self-promotion trail he could follow to learn more about her.
Natalie had latched onto her and her podcast to bring in readers to Living Large Magazine , where it was linked. He hoped this symbiotic relationship didn’t bring Brynn the kind of trouble doing an interview had done for him. Natalie would use her if she could. That, too, had been part of the reason he’d taken the job…to warn Brynn to tread lightly where Natalie was concerned.
He felt a little less like he had to warn her. Brynn Barrington was no fool. The brief peeks into her life she gave to her podcast followers didn’t even begin to touch the surface. He needed to know more before they dove together. She needed to be steady, calm, and in control underwater because panic cost lives. If a phone call set her off, what would happen if she had a faulty valve and had to switch over to a secondary tank in mid-dive?
They’d both find out soon enough, and maybe he’d get close enough that she’d drop some of those barriers.