Falling For Mr. December. Kate Hardy
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about the shoot.
She sighed. ‘Look, just stand there for a second.’
As he did so, she took her camera body out of its carrying case, fitted a lens so she could take a quick photograph, then came over to show him the digital picture on the screen. ‘This obviously isn’t a proper composition—for the real one I’ll be quite a bit more nit-picky about the lighting and the lens—but it should be enough to prove to you that your dignity will remain intact. OK now?’
‘Sorry.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I know I’m being ridiculous about this. I guess this just isn’t the normal sort of thing I’d do in a day’s work.’
‘That’s pretty much what everyone’s said so far.’ She grinned. ‘Well, except for the actor. He didn’t mind stripping off, but I guess he’d done it a few times before. All in the name of art, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Nick echoed, still looking uncomfortable.
‘And what you do in court—you have a persona, and that’s a bit like acting, isn’t it?’
‘A bit, I suppose,’ Nick said. ‘But, as I said, at work I’m normally wearing quite formal dress—not standing in the middle of the room, almost naked.’
‘For what it’s worth,’ Sammy said, ‘I think what you’re doing is really special. It takes guts—everyone’s happy enough to put their hand in their pocket and donate money to a good cause, but you’re doing something out of the ordinary. Something that’s going to make a lot more of a difference. And I bet whoever you’re doing this for is hugely proud of you.’
‘My sister,’ he said, ‘and my nephew.’
‘The ward treated your nephew?’ she asked softly.
He nodded. ‘Xander’s in remission at the moment.’
She guessed the bargain he’d made in his head: if he did this to help raise money, then Fate might smile on his nephew and keep him in remission. She knew her own sister had made the same bargain, and it was why Jenny had her hair cropped at the same time as Sammy did, every two years.
She wondered briefly why Xander’s father hadn’t offered to do the calendar shoot. Or maybe it was just that Nick had a more photogenic job. It was none of her business, anyway. She was just here to do the shoot.
‘OK. I’m happy with that position. Now, there aren’t any windows in here; plus we’ve got a notice on the door, so nobody’s going to walk in on us. It’s quite safe. So, while I’m setting up properly here, do you want to lose the clothes?’
* * *
No, Nick didn’t want to lose the clothes. At all.
But he’d promised he’d do it, and he wasn’t going to break his word. ‘What do you want me to wear out of the court dress?’ he asked, drawing on his usual court demeanour and trying to sound as if he was completely unflustered.
‘Wig, collar and bands, and we’ll try some shots with the gown and some without,’ she said. ‘I take it you followed my instructions to avoid marks on your skin?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Let’s do this.’
Nick felt incredibly self-conscious stripping off. Putting on the collar and bands without his tunic shirt felt weird. Though the silk gown was soft against his skin, and he gathered it in front of him to cover himself and went to stand by the bench.
‘We’ll do some shots sitting down, first,’ Sammy said. ‘I guess you need some papers spread out on the bench in front of you.’
Luckily he’d thought to bring a brief with him. He fetched it and sat down.
‘Do you wear glasses?’ she asked.
‘No.’
‘Pity. I should’ve thought to bring some frames with me.’
He frowned. ‘Why do you want me to wear glasses?’
‘To make you look clever.’
He wasn’t sure if she was teasing him or not. Then he looked her straight in the eye and saw the mischievous twinkle. ‘Very funny.’
‘Yes, m’lud—or should I say Your Honour?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘That’s what I’d say to the judge. You’d refer to me as My Learned Friend.’
Her mouth quirked, and heat flooded his body. That impish smile transformed Sammy Thompson to a pure beauty.
And this was totally inappropriate.
He damped his feelings down. For all he knew, she was married or involved with someone. OK, so she wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t mean anything. And he wasn’t looking for a relationship anyway; the disintegration of his marriage to Naomi three years ago had put him off the idea of opening his life to someone else ever again. The one woman he’d thought was different. The one he’d thought had supported his ambitions and understood him. Yet it had all been a sham. That wasn’t a mistake he intended to repeat. Even if he did find Sammy Thompson attractive, he wasn’t going to act on that attraction. Dating seriously wasn’t something he did any more.
He focused on posing for Sammy and following her instructions. He stood up, changing position when she told him to.
‘OK. Now you can lose the gown for the next set of shots.’
‘Are you quite sure about this?’ he asked, wishing he were a hundred miles away.
‘Tell you what, shy boy,’ she drawled. ‘Do the rest of the shoot for me without making any more fuss, and I’ll buy you dinner.’
He blinked. Was she asking him out? ‘Dinner? Why?’
‘Because I’ve already shot two other models for the calendar today and I didn’t have time for lunch, which means that right now I’m starving—I’ll apologise now in case my stomach starts rumbling during the shoot. So I think we should have dinner while we look through the shots and you tell me which ones you approve to put forward to the Friends of the Hospital,’ she said. ‘Unless you have a girlfriend or a wife who’d have a problem with that, in which case please call her now and ask her to join us, because I really don’t want to have to wait for too long before dinner.’
He shrugged slightly. ‘No wife. No girlfriend.’ And this was feeling more and more like agreeing to a date. Something that pushed him even further outside his comfort zone. He paused. ‘Would it be a problem for your partner if you ate with me?’
‘Not if I had one, because this is my job.’
So she was single. Available...
He squashed those thoughts. No, no and no. He didn’t date any more. Not seriously.
‘The quicker we get this done, the quicker I get food,’ she continued, ‘and the less likely it is that I’ll get grumpy with you. You need to focus, m’learned friend. Lose the gown. And think yourself lucky.’
‘Lucky?’ He very nearly had to shake his head to clear it. Was she talking about him getting lucky?
‘You’re Mr December. I could’ve made you wear a Santa hat. Or pose holding a bunch of mistletoe. Or—’ She flapped a dismissive hand. ‘Insert a cheesy Christmassy pose of choice.’
Ah. That kind of lucky. Nothing to do with sex, then.
And would his head please, please start playing by the rules and stop thinking about lust and other inappropriate things? Because right now he was naked, and it would be impossible to hide his physical reaction to her.
‘Noted,’ he said dryly. He took off his gown, folded it neatly, and set it on the bench where it would be out of sight of her camera.
* * *
Wearing