"I thought maybe. You'd mentioned strong women earlier, and I know you're close to your grandmother. And goodness knows her story is amazing. I can't really imagine a more confident woman."
"I didn't think you knew that much about her. You told me back then you'd seen her movies, but--"
He cuts himself off, and I realize that we haven't really talked about "back then" at all.
"I've been reading about the Golden Age of Hollywood," I say to fill the awkward silence. "Because, you know. I live here, and I love classic movies." Mentally I kick myself. I had no intention of revealing that I'd gone on a spree twelve years ago, reading all about his grandmother and her movies. As if somehow that could bring Wyatt back to me, even if only in my fantasies. "What's the big deal?"
"Nothing. Not a big deal at all. And no. She's an inspiration, of course. But she's not the woman I imagined."
I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't continue. And for some reason, I don't want to ask. I think maybe I'm afraid of the answer.
"Right," he says after a moment. He rubs his hands together.
"I guess we should get started."
"It's almost two in the morning," I protest. "You were really serious about starting tonight?"
He indicates the bed. "I see you there, spread out and sleepy. Consider it method acting."
"Sleepy?" I lift a brow. "Doesn't sound very sexy."
"Trust me," he says. "And take off your clothes."
13
Wyatt almost laughed at the deer-in-the-headlights expression on Kelsey's face.
"Erotic photos, remember? Did you think they were all going to be lingerie and lace?"
She wrinkled her nose in a way that looked just a little too adorable. "Um, kinda."
He was torn between laughing at her naivete and pulling her into his arms to reassure her.
He chose a middle ground, and kept his arms clamped firmly at his sides. Ever since she'd walked through his door, he'd been fighting the desire to touch her, to reassure her. Hell, to just fall back into old patterns and talk to her.
The bottom line? He missed her.
But what he missed was a fantasy. A Kelsey that she'd once projected as part of a teenage game. A sexual long con.
And even if there had been a tiny bit of the Kelsey he thought he knew hiding beneath the surface, he was certain that the years had hardened her. Any girl who could play the kind of games she'd played back then couldn't hang on to any thread of innocent sweetness.
He'd loved a girl who'd been smart and sweet and sensual and exciting. But that girl had never really existed. She was an illusion.
An illusion that had haunted him for years, and that he was now trying to recreate with his camera.
There. He'd said it.
&
nbsp; Kelsey wasn't just a girl, she was The Girl. The one he'd always had in the back of his mind. The one he didn't even realize had been his inspiration until she'd walked through his door. All along, she'd been his muse, and he hadn't even known.
And now that she was here, beautiful and tempting and all grown up, he couldn't help but think that it had been a mistake to conjure her at all. Because she was too damn tempting, and it was taking all of his strength to harden his heart.
"You're serious?" she pressed. "That's how we're going to start this. I just drop my jeans and panties, rip off my shirt and bra, and then stand here on display for you? No easing into it? No letting me even get the feel of being in front of a camera?"
He considered saying yes, but she looked so damned perturbed that he took pity on her. He hooked his thumb toward a door on the far side of the room. "There should be a robe on the back of the door. Undress in there, put it on, come back out here." He glanced at his watch. "We really need to get started."
He could practically see the battle raging across her face. Argue or change. And he was almost disappointed when she tossed her head and marched silently to the bathroom.