Must Be Love: (Nicole and Ryan) (A Jetty Beach Romance Book 1) by Claire Kingsley Read Free Book Online

he says. "I've done lingerie lines, and a lot of portfolio shots for models. I also do private boudoir sessions."
    "Boudoir? Like, sexy photos women give their husbands?" I ask.
    "Exactly," he says. "Do you … do you want to see some?"
    "Sure."
    He brings out a thick leather-bound book and nods toward the couch. I sit down next to him and he opens the book in his lap. The first photo is a woman splayed out on a bed, wearing nothing but a white sheet. Her skin looks flawless, but she isn’t covered in tons of makeup. Thick, blond hair flows out behind her, and the whole thing looks … it looks gorgeous. Like the photos on his wall, it’s highly charged with sexuality, but not the least bit trashy.
    He slowly flips through more pages. Some women wear lingerie, others appear to be nude, strategically covered by a sheet. They are of varying ages. One woman is silver-haired, with wrinkles and folds in her skin, but somehow he made her look just as sensual as the younger women.
    "This isn't what I was thinking when you said boudoir photos," I say, lingering over a photograph of a woman in a man's shirt and tie. "I would never have guessed they could be so classy. You've even done some in black and white. These are incredible."
    "You were picturing red and black corsets with lots of lace and bad makeup?" he asks.
    "Yeah, kinda."
    He turns the page again, this time to a woman in a black teddy. It could be in a catalog. "I get paid a lot more to shoot models, but these are my favorite shoots by far. I love helping women bring out their inner goddess."
    Oh, holy shit. Is he serious right now?

    "Wow, you definitely deliver," I say, trying to keep my voice from sounding breathy. "How did you get into doing this? Did you just wake up one day and think, hey, I'd like to take photos of half-naked women and make them look like goddesses?"
    Ryan chuckles. "Not quite. I went to art school and spent a lot of time taking pictures of trees and farmland and stuff. There's a lot of beauty in nature, but I've always been drawn to people. Well, women in particular. After graduating I did a stint taking photos for a … certain kind of website."
    "Porn?" I ask.
    "Yeah, it was definitely porn. Really raunchy stuff, but it paid the bills."
    I’m not quite sure what to make of that. What must his family think? If he even told them. "Wow. That must have been … interesting."
    "You'd think it would be the perfect gig for a twenty-two-year-old guy, but honestly, it was awful," he says. "There was no emotion in any of it. Just … hell, I don't even want to tell you. Let's just say I saw things that year that I will never be able to unsee."
    "So you weren't bringing home your subjects and acting out the photos?" I say, nudging him with my elbow.
    "No," he says with a laugh, and stands up. He puts the book back on a shelf. "No, I got out of that job as soon as I could. Sometimes I feel like all the showers in the world won't be enough to wash off the ick."
    "How did you go from porn to, well, sexy but not porn?" I ask.
    One side of his mouth turns up in a grin. "Luck, mostly. I took a job as a janitor at this old mansion just to keep a roof over my head. It used to be someone's home, but now it's rented out for weddings and stuff. One day this well-known photographer came in to scout out the space for a shoot. I was just leaving from working all night, but I recognized him and worked up the nerve to introduce myself. I ended up showing him around the grounds—pointed out all the best places to shoot, and where the sun would be at different times of day and so forth. I guess he was impressed because he started hiring me to help with some of his clients. He taught me a lot. I found I had a good eye for women's bodies—for capturing their sensuality. Eventually clients started asking for me specifically. I contracted out to some ad agencies and designers, and built up a client list.”
    "And now you're here," I say. "This is a far cry from L.A."
    "Thank