Picture This by Jayne Denker Read Free Book Online Page A

over to see his shadowed eyes traveling over her slowly.
    â€œYou were leaving? Without saying good-bye?” he murmured.
    â€œYou were kind of busy.”
    â€œNever too busy for you.”
    â€œYou never came back.”
    â€œI was trying, believe me. I got hijacked.”
    â€œI saw.”
    â€œI saw you seeing.”
    â€œYou did?” Had he seen her blow him a kiss? Oh God, she hoped not.
    â€œNaomi didn’t scare you, did she?”
    Celia took a deep breath before she answered. She could smell a bit of beer on his breath, residual cigarette—and other—smoke coming off his clothes. And she felt warmth radiating from his body through the thin fabric of his shirt. He was awfully close. It disturbed her how much she liked it. Just like during their photo shoot, he made her nervous, but a good nervous. Never once did she have the urge to move away. Just closer. Good lord, how was she going to keep her promise to herself to walk away and forget this guy?
    But right now he was waiting for an answer. So she said, in what she hoped was a lighthearted tone, “Naomi? Of course not.”
    â€œLiar. She even scares the shit out of me .”
    â€œCome on. She’s, what, seventeen?”
    â€œSeventeen going on fifty. A scary, biker-chick kind of fifty. So you can admit it. Go on. She’s terrifying.”
    Celia laughed softly. “Maybe a little.”
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it.” She paused, then forced herself to say, “You should get back out there. Your guests will be looking for you.”
    â€œThey’ll never notice I’m gone.”
    Niall moved closer. His shoulder pressed against hers as he turned toward her. Celia’s breath caught. She started to move back, and the flashlight went out.
    â€œDammit.” That would teach her to buy her safety devices from a guy with a folding table on the sidewalk.
    Niall’s hand found hers, pushed it down gently. “Leave it,” he murmured, his voice rough.
    Oh God.
    â€œI mean,” he went on, reverting to his usual joking tone, but still softly, “it’s kind of nice, isn’t it? It’s like that party game from middle school, where a boy and a girl get shoved into a closet—”
    â€œSeven minutes in heaven.”
    She felt him laugh against her. “Oh. My. God. I am absolutely in love with you right now, just because you knew that.” He paused. “So. You were a player in middle school, huh? I should have expected as much.”
    â€œ No ,” she insisted, mortified, although she felt a ridiculous bubble of laughter well up inside her.
    â€œHey, let me have my fantasies, all right, woman? Lord knows I had enough of them the last time I had a chance with a girl in a closet. And back then that was all I had. I was a disaster—I never knew what to say or where to put my hands . . . Now, now, I didn’t mean—well, maybe I did. Anyway, I’d just be sitting there, a quivering lump of nerves, and then all of a sudden I’d just sort of lunge, you know? Go in for the kill and hope I hit the target.”
    â€œAnd then both your braces would clack,” she couldn’t resist adding. “If one set was really heavy duty, one of you would end up with a cut lip . . .”
    â€œI knew you knew what I was talking about. Player.”
    â€œBut now we’re adults.”
    â€œSpeak for yourself,” he shot back without missing a beat. “Still, I’d like to think I’m better at this than I was back then.” He paused. “This is the part where you’re supposed to say ‘prove it.’ ”
    Celia froze. She wanted to say it. Oh God, she wanted to. But what came out was, “I . . . I can’t do that.”
    â€œWell, then,” Niall murmured, “I guess I’ll just have to go in for the kill.”
    His fingertips found her lips, traveled over them with the lightest