PosterBoyForAverage Page 5

  “He kissed me today.”

  The image of the kiss in her mind turned to muscle memory and her lips and skin could still feel his touch. She shivered a little and hated herself for it.

  “Well, that’s good!”

  “Then told me we’d be a bad idea.”

  “He…um…what?”

  “You heard me!” Aubrey said, crossing her legs, pointing her toes at the ceiling and then reversing the motion to stretch out her muscles. The run was still with her in the form of hurt feelings and stiff hamstrings.

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know! Maybe he thought I was a terrible kisser.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Well, he fucking kissed me. And a hell of a kiss it was too, sister of mine. And then he said we’d be a bad idea and then he kicked me in the shin.”

  “He kicked you?” Bradlee gasped.

  Aubrey giggled. “Not really. What he did was say ‘race ya home’, then he smacked me on the ass and proceeded to run off. We’d been on a run together. So now I have to take pictures of him nearly naked, not care and pay him for the pleasure.”

  “Oh my God, he’s a man-whore,” her sister said.

  “He is not! It was my idea before I even knew I wanted him to kiss me. I had no idea I wanted anyone to kiss me.”

  “I think the hot monkey sex is still imminent,” Bradlee said.

  “Wishful thinking,” Aubrey said. When the doorbell rang she sighed. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear. So here he is. Gotta go. I’ll tell you how awkward and bizarre it was later. Kiss munchkin for me.”

  She hung up before Bradlee could complain. Then she was traitorous to her own damn self by real fast swiping a bit of cheeky pink blush on each cheek. Then she hurried to answer the door. And pretend she couldn’t remember that kiss. What kiss?

  * * * * *

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Aubrey leaned against her doorjamb and tried not to look beyond his eyes. Problem was his eyes were amazing and it just made him seem even more amazing, despite her keeping her eyes trained only on his face. It wasn’t as if he had a big set of boobs to ogle, after all. Only she knew what a chore it was not to let her gaze sweep over his body.

  Plus she was about to take a bunch of pictures of him with his shirt off. So what was the fucking point?

  “Can I come in? Or are we doing this on the porch?”

  “Oh! Yeah!” She felt her face grow hot and tried not to roll her eyes. Good going, Aubrey. “Sorry. I’m still recovering from the run.”

  From the kiss.

  “It’s nice and sunny out. I thought maybe some pics out in the garden.”

  “Trying to roll me in poison ivy?”

  She let out a little warble of laughter, mostly because that sounded like her a little bit. But only if she didn’t like a guy. She liked Mike. He just didn’t feel the same, it seemed.

  “Nope. I just thought you’d look good outside in the sun. And then maybe back by my big oak. And then in the basement.”

  “Another possibly dangerous locale. Maybe you have a torture chamber down there?” He winked.

  “Oh I do. It’s called a laundry room and if you keep teasing me I’ll put you to work in it.”

  He reached out and touched her collarbone. Just that. With one finger.

  The heat that swept through her was astonishing. Aubrey locked her knees and her jaw, refusing to show how it had affected her. Such a small touch.

  Mike smiled and then his face went grave again. The way it had after the kiss they’d shared. She was dying to ask him why. What was wrong? What was he thinking? Instead she stepped back and let him in.

  “We can go through the back way.”

  He reached for her again and she stalled. But then he dropped his hand, seemingly coming to his senses.

  “Lead the way.”

  She did. Walking fast through the living room, into the sunroom and opening the back slider. Bruce came tearing around the corner from the kitchen, saw Mike, skidded, considered stopping but just kept going. He ended his routine by flying off the end of the deck like some oversized squat bird.

  “Now you see why we call him Batman,” she laughed.

  “I do. He’s a piece of work.”

  Aubrey shook her head and laughed. “That’s one way to put it.” She finally paused to consider his outfit. Faded jeans like hers, a Henley, sneakers. Without thinking—she was used to touching the models—she pulled up the hem of his shirt to see what kind of undergear she was dealing with.

  Aqua-blue band on what she was willing to wager were boxer briefs.

  “Um…” he watched her, barely breathing.

  Aubrey snatched her hand back quickly. “Sorry. Occupational hazard. I usually…you know. Help, arrange, pose, poke and prod the models. Whatever you want to call it.”

  “Poke away,” he said, nodding.

  She made the mistake of looking him right in the eye for a heartbeat. Big mistake. It was mesmerizing, that gaze of his. His lips curled up into an even more amused expression and she bit her tongue to keep from crying. She felt like the giant punch line to an unknown joke. Why did the roofer dislike the photographer? To get to the other side!

  Aubrey poked his rock-hard belly. Just to see what he’d do. The muscles flexed and he grabbed her wrist. There it was again, her thundering pulse.

  “Just remember if you poke me enough I might poke back.”

  She swallowed hard and nodded. “Good to know. This way.”

  He dropped her wrist and followed her down the deck. She waved at the overgrown-but-somehow-picturesque box garden.

  “We’ll start here. The light is good. And then maybe by the tree, like I said. Then the basement. You have a body that was built with work. So let’s show it off.”

  “Working in the garden?” He chuckled.

  “Well, the garden would be a good neutral backdrop for the pics. That way I can play up the foliage around you or fade it out. Either way, being out in nature certainly won’t harm a picture of a body like yours.”

  “Poster boy for average,” he muttered again.

  She flicked a finger at him, now in her element. “Not even close, man. Now take off your shirt.”

  His eyebrows shot up but he obeyed. Aubrey fought the instinctual urge to touch what she was looking at. She was a pretty tactile photographer, often posing subjects as if they were her own personal Ken and Barbie dolls. Truth be told, there were more Kens, but the occasional Barbie showed up in the mix.

  “I like that look. Grab that shovel.” She nodded to one propped by the fence. “And climb in there. Let the growth swallow you up.”

  “Seriously, Aubrey, if there’s poison ivy in here I’m going to spank you,” he muttered. Mike was facing away from her when he said it so he didn’t see the sudden rush of color that must have come into her face, but she felt it.

  “There isn’t. I double-checked. Plus, Bradlee was letting Laura roam around in here the other night. Trust me, if that happened, there is no poison ivy in here.”

  He squinted against the sun, gripping the shovel. When he came back toward the garden, he nodded. “I hear you. She’s a bit of a mother bear, your sister. Not that there’s anything wrong with that in this day and age. Parents need to be that way.”

  Aubrey raised the camera. Got him in frame. She liked the way the sunlight seemed to peek over his shoulder and roll down his belly. But the belly needed more highlighting. “Hold on,” she said and darted over to the picnic table. Nearby was a potting stand that also held bug spray, sunscreen and for Laura’s visits an economy-size bottle of bubbles.

  She snagged the sunscreen and ran back, almost tripping over a wayward pumpkin vine that had snaked out from the far corner of the yard. She almost righted herself, stumbled again, then hit the lip of the garden bed and sprawled forward. Almost. Instead of hitting the dirt in a tangle of jalapenos and tomatoes, she hit a broad-chested man in a flying tackle. He stopped her momentum easily and she got a fac
e full of man-chest.

  “Oomph,” she said.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m…” She was addressing a mole two inches above his left nipple. She could smell soap on him and some very subtle cologne and sunshine. “Yes, I’m a bit clumsy.”

  “No worries. Me too.”

  “You’re a roofer!”

  “And afraid of heights and still a roofer.” He touched her nose and Aubrey felt as if he’d touched some naughty part of her instead. She tilted her head back to look at him. It was hard not to be captivated by the way small little lines appeared at the corners of his eyes when he smiled.

  “I need to rub you,” she said. Then she heard what she said and groaned.

  “Well, I’ve never had a woman be so very blunt about it before.”

  It was easy to see by the way he was pressing his lips together that he was trying very, very hard not to laugh in her face.

  “With lotion!” she said.

  His jaw grew even tenser as he tried to keep his amusement tamped down. “I don’t know if I need the extra lubrication but—”

  She pulled back from him, disengaging so fast she almost went down on her ass in a cluster of cherry tomato bushes. “On your chest! For the shine! For the camera!” Her shock and dismay had morphed into anger and that was when he finally did laugh.

  Damn him and his manly chest.

  He winked at her and said, “Sure you do. Okay.”

  She grumbled, snarling, “Jesus,” under her breath as she squeezed some lotion in her hand and started to rub it where she needed it to be. Her hand was shaking and the thundering thump of her pulse had traveled from her chest down to her pussy. It was damn near impossible to ignore.

  He touched her wrist again and she jumped like he’d burned her. That really pissed her off and she smacked her lotion-white palm down the center of his chest one-two-three and stepped back. “Rub it in!” she barked. Then she turned and stumbled from the garden bed.

  She heard him chuckle and had to resist the urge to throw her camera at him. No, her camera was too expensive, but one of her mukluks would do the trick. Instead, she turned in the warm October sun, raised the camera and said, “Let’s get started, Mike.”

  Chapter Eight

  “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” he said to her through the eye of her camera.

  She bit her lip and took a few shots when he shut his mouth and no longer looked like he was talking. Poster boy for average her ass. The camera loved him. It somehow made his good features great, his great features phenomenal.

  “Nope.” Click, click, click.

  Focus on the task, Aubrey, not that goddamn kiss. Just pay attention to the magic you saw in him that first day. Before he ruined it with a kiss.

  The self-coaching was doing little to keep her mind off the memory of his hand cupping the back of her head, anchoring her to him.

  Or just a moment before when he touched her and she wanted to rub her body against his, kiss him again.

  “Yes, you are. It’s in your posture. When you are surprised, you stand up straighter. When you’re angry you become like a flagpole. Rigid and straight.”

  “I am not a flagpole. And how the hell would you know anyway? You’ve known me all of three days!”

  “But you’re easy to read because you’re passionate.” He dug the tip of the shovel into the ground and it made his muscles bulge in the loveliest way. Aubrey’s mouth went dry.

  “I am not passionate,” she hissed. Then she captured three amazing pictures of him that would fit on any romance novel cover on earth.

  “Yes you are. You’re an artist. You’re passionate. I can tell by the way your eyes flash.”

  “My eyes do not flash,” she growled, managing to snag the most amazing picture where he looked both amused and startled. She was also glad he couldn’t see her damn eyes.

  Mike Sykes seemed very astute at reading people. Which meant he’d probably know right away that he was getting to her.

  “They do so.” He grinned.

  Snap-snap-snap.

  “Nope.”

  “Yes. They flashed when I kissed you and they flashed when I hurt your feelings.”

  She dropped the camera. “You did not hurt my feelings!” she lied. “And if you had, what the hell is wrong with you talking like this then? What are you? A sadist?”

  “No. I don’t mind a bit of the rough and tumble,” he said thoughtfully. Then he added insult to injury by chuckling when her face registered shock so blatant even she could feel it.

  “Then you just like messing with people?” Maybe she had misjudged him. She’d thought him such a nice guy. Much nicer than she ever really showed interest in. Maybe her instinct had been way off.

  His face grew serious again and she couldn’t help herself.

  “What was wrong with me, Mike? What about that kiss said I was a bad choice?”

  He went from serious to stricken. “Nothing. I—”

  “Never mind,” she said. “That’s not important. That’s personal, this is business. Let’s go back by the oak before we lose the sun.”

  The truth was, she didn’t really want to hear what he had to say. She didn’t want to know what was wrong with her.

  * * * * *

  The light by the oak only gave them a few good shots and she waved him inside. They had to go through the house to get to the basement and Batman would not leave Mike alone. Aubrey wanted to tell him not to get used to the man—clearly they were not going to get on as swimmingly as she originally thought.

  He followed her down and when they turned into the main section with its half-done plasterboard and half-done suspended ceiling, he laughed. “What happened in here?”

  “Will happened in here. He was supposed to help me put together a home office. I have an uncle who does this stuff. I’ll have to call him. It’ll just have to wait for the moment. Since I just got back.” She positioned him near some exposed beams and busted plaster. “There, that looks good and manly.”

  He rolled his eyes and did a typical bodybuilder pose that always made her wonder who the hell thought that pose looked good. It surprised her by making her laugh. It was more the goofy face that went with it than the posture of his body.

  “How manly was that?”

  “That was the least manly thing I’ve ever seen,” Aubrey snorted.

  He picked up on what she wanted pretty fast and she started to snap off some pictures she knew damn well she could use. “Oh and it wasn’t you,” he said, bending to retrieve an abandoned hammer.

  “What?” Her mind caught up with her mouth and she knew what he meant. She wished she’d ignored the statement.

  “It wasn’t you. There’s nothing wrong with you or your kiss or anything about you, Aubrey.”

  “I— Then…well, okay.” It was the only thing she could really think to say.

  She took a few more and then dropped the camera. “I think I’ve got plenty right now. I might want to do more in a different setting soon, but I can give you your advance if you have a minute. There’s a contract and stuff but that can wait. I just need you to sign the release on the pictures.”

  He nodded and picked his shirt up off the ground. “No problem.”

  Gone was the joking and the grinning and the laughing. Now he seemed to have withdrawn.

  “Are you okay?” she asked against her better judgment.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re a terrible liar,” Aubrey said, turning from him.

  She heard his footsteps on the dusty basement floor as he followed her. “So are you.”

  “When did I lie?”

  “When you said you weren’t passionate. You’re one of the most passionate people I’ve ever met.”

  Aubrey turned to look at him and he surprised her by putting his finger to her lips to silence her before she could even speak.

  “And before you say we just met, it doesn’t take a genius to see it on you. And I notice more about you because you�
��re very…noticeable.”

  He moved closer and her tongue turned to chalk.

  “I’m…” The closer he got, the faster her brain shut down.

  “You’re what?”

  She could smell the sunscreen on him and the way a man smells when he’s baked in the sun. He got closer and a strand of his hair brushed her forehead. He was going to kiss her. At the knowledge the inside of her mind went as bright and blank as the sun.

  “I’m…”

  “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, Aubrey,” he said. The kiss was electric. Just like the first one. Heat and need seared her lips and she curled her tongue to his when he slipped his inside her mouth.

  Aubrey tried not to make any noise, any move that might scare him away this time. She almost laughed at the thought. The thought that a kiss with her was like one of those nature shows on TV where all the elements must be perfect to capture the target on film.

  The wild and elusive neighbor-boy kiss…

  She smiled despite herself and he pressed his lips more firmly to hers. Her camera was wedged between them and it was the only thing that kept his chest from pressing to hers and feeling the pounding drum of her heart.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “Because I’m nervous,” she blurted. It was true. She smiled and laughed when nervous and she was very nervous that whatever she did last time to make him turn away would happen again.

  “Why are you nervous?” His kiss traveled from her mouth to her jawline. From her jawline to her neck. From her neck to her collarbone and that was when all the air seemed to whoosh out of the room in a great vacuum, leaving Aubrey pinned to a half-done wall trying desperately to breathe.

  Mike stroked a gentle fingertip from the buttons of her top to the small, hard knot of her right nipple. He stroked it through the cotton with the tip of his finger, kissing her again more deeply, his tongue invading her mouth, his scent invading her mind.

  Aubrey found herself arching her back, pushing against that finger, seeking the feel of his whole palm on her.

  He pulled back and a panicky bird seemed to spread its wings in her chest. But he was just removing the camera and placing it on the bookshelf by the door to the stairwell.