Christmas Alpha (5 page)

 
Finn shook his head distractedly as he stepped back, obviously pleased with the lighting for now. “Those kids I mentioned? Six of the little darlin’s, aged from one to eight—Liam had a bad back that one year.” He grinned. “Not that I don’t love every one of them, Liam and Ailish too, but I’d go insane with the noise of them all after an hour!”
 

 
It was the poet in him that needed the calm and quiet, Eva realized. She was the same when it came to history, and could spend hours in a museum, imagining the people, the time and the place, whom all those artifacts had once belonged to.
 

 
“Does that mean you’re staying here for Christmas?”

 
“You sound surprised?”

 
“There’s no Christmas decorations, not even a tree.”

 
He shrugged. “Men don’t bother with things like that when they’re on their own, you know.”

 
No, Eva didn’t ‘know’. She had just assumed that everyone at least had a tree—

 
“I’m ready for you now, Eva.”
 

 
“What...?” She had totally forgotten their reason for being here as they talked.

 
Finn obviously didn’t suffer from the same distraction as he now patted the sheets invitingly.

 
Eva’s gaze dropped from meeting his as she once again pulled on the neckline of her jumper. “It’s even hotter in here than in the hallway and kitchen!”
 

 
“I told you, I was keeping the house warm for when my model stripped off.” He grimaced. “At least take off your sweater, Eva,” he added impatiently as she continued to look uncomfortable. “I’m guessing you have a t-shirt on underneath it?”

 
“Yes...” Eva eyed him warily.
 

 
First he invited her to take off her sweater. And then what? Would her t-shirt be next? Her denims?
 

 
Wasn’t that what she had agreed to do if these initial photographs turned out as Finn expected? “Do you have a name for this exhibition?”

 
“I do,” Finn bit out, more than a little annoyed with himself for having just revealed so much about himself and his family, and to someone he had just met. Eva was just so...forthright, it was hard not to answer when she asked.
 

 
“Well?” Eva looked at him expectantly.

 
He drew in a deep breath before answering. “It’s called ‘The Mistress’.”

 
“‘The Mistress’?” Eva repeated doubtfully. “As in a woman that a man is involved with that isn’t his wife?”

 
“Or a woman paid to be his companion, yes.”

 
“
Your
mistress?”

 
His jaw tensed. “No.”

 
“You sound angry.”

 
“Do I?”

 
“Oh yes.” She nodded with certainty.

 
Possibly because he was! Because he had been used. By Moira and her married lover.
 

 
The sad part was that Finn had thought he and Moira were both just having fun. He hadn’t seen—hadn’t wanted to see—the truth of what their relationship really was. Until Moira and her married lover had forced him to see. At which point Moira had decided that it was Finn she wanted rather than her elderly lover.

 
Finn had walked away. Disgusted by both Moira and the whole sick situation. Moira had had other ideas and become obsessed with him, convincing herself it was only a matter of time before Finn came back to her.

 
She began to follow Finn everywhere he went after he changed the number of his cell phone and she could no longer call him day and night. She accosted him in restaurants. In shops. Anywhere he appeared in public, she would make a nuisance of herself. Finn had finally had enough after she raked her claws down his face and smashed a glass in a woman’s face in a fit of temper when she found the two of them in a restaurant having dinner together.
 

 
He believed the series of mistress photographs to be his way of exorcising Moira and what she had done to him.

 
And along came Eva Shaw, only a decade younger than him in years, but a lifetime in experience. Those moss-green eyes glowed with the joy of life rather than Moira’s sensual avarice. The sweet curve of Eva’s cheeks, the fine line of her jaw, the warmth of her smile, all spoke of a lack of guile rather than Moira’s lust and calculation.

 
Finn gave a self-disgusted shake of his head. “This isn’t going to work. It was a mistake to ever think you were capable of being what

I want.” He turned sharply on his heel and strode out of the studio.

 
Eva felt as if Finn had just physically slapped her in the face. As if he had just thrown her sexuality back at her as if she were lacking in some way.
 

 
Just who the hell did he think he was? Well, he was obviously

Finn Devlin, photographer extraordinaire.

 
She didn’t give a damn
who
he was, he didn’t get to talk to her like that, to
dismiss
her like that, after persuading her to pose for his damned photographs!

 
Eva pulled her sweater angrily up and over her head, her hair crackling with electricity as she breathed a sigh of relief at how much more comfortable she was now that she wasn’t being suffocated in wool.

 
Once she had started she didn’t stop. Her t-shirt went next. Then her boots, denims and socks joined the rapidly growing pile of clothes.

 
They would see who wasn’t good enough to be in a Finn Devlin photograph.

 
Who couldn’t be what Finn Devlin ‘wanted’!

Chapter 5

“
I’m
ready for you now, Finn—unless you would rather just sit there drinking coffee all day!”

 
Finn almost spat that coffee all over himself in surprise as he turned and saw Eva standing in the kitchen doorway.

 
Holy-fecking-hell!

 
That glorious midnight-colored hair crackled and swirled about her bare shoulders as if it had a life of its own. She was wearing only a black lace bra and matching panties, her breasts spilling over the top of that black lace, her waist long and slender, with only a small triangle of black lace visible between her thighs.

 
A triangle so small, in fact, that some of her black curls should surely have been showing...
 

 
“Do you wax?” He sounded as if he had something stuck in his throat.

 
Probably his balls—they had certainly jumped high enough when he turned and saw Eva wearing only her underwear!

 
Her chin rose slightly. “Yes.”

 
Finn’s mouth instantly went dry. “How does that feel against the lace?”

 
“Sexy. Sensual. Arousing,” she answered honestly, despite the rising color in her cheeks.

 
He didn’t take his eyes off her for even a second as he slowly stood up. “I want to photograph you looking just like that to begin with.”

 
A few seconds ago Finn had been sitting cursing his stupidity in having thought he could ever use Eva as the model for his mistress photographs, glaring moodily at the snow he could still see falling outside the window.
 

 
Now all he wanted was Eva back in his studio, draped over those ivory silk sheets and wearing black lace.

 
“Fine,” she nodded abruptly before turning on her bare heels and walking back down the hallway.

 
Finn followed as if attached to an invisible piece of string, his gaze fixed on the proud set of Eva’s shoulders, the curve of her back, and the sensual sway of that wild black hair as it almost touched the firm globes of her bottom, her legs slender and shapely. Even her feet were slim and elegant.

 
Eva Shaw was a rare beauty.

 
And it was Finn’s guess that she wasn’t even aware of it.

 
He
was very much aware of it as he followed her into the studio and watched her sit down on the ivory sheets.

 
He had photographed nudes before, dozens of them in the early days of his career, and he had always approached it clinically, no matter how beautiful the model. He had only been interested in how the woman looked through the lens of his camera.

 
It was totally different with Eva. She was different. She wasn’t a professional model, for one thing, and her earlier bravado had deserted her now that they were back in the studio. He could feel her tension as he moved forward and posed her before stepping back to look at the result.

 
He had placed Eva kneeling on the ivory sheets, facing him, legs slightly apart, her back straight and thrusting those full breasts forward.

 
Sweet Jesus, she was sensuality personified!

 
Finn drew in a deep breath and retreated behind the safety of his camera before he forgot the reason they were both here. Unfortunately for his aching cock, Eva looked just as good through the lens of his camera as she did in the flesh.
 

 
She also looked terrified.

 
“Try to relax, Eva,” he advised gruffly.

 
Hah, that was easy for
him
to say, he wasn’t the one kneeling on silk sheets wearing only his underwear!

 
Eva’s mother had always warned her that one day her fiery temper would get her into trouble—and it looked as if today was going to be that day.

 
What had she been thinking, throwing off her clothes like that, strutting down the hallway half-naked in order to challenge a man like Finn Devlin?

 
She doubted she had been thinking at all beyond showing him she wasn’t the little prude he obviously thought her to be.
 

 
Well she had certainly succeeded, if that had been her intention!

 
“I said relax, Eva,” Finn sighed. “If you clench your teeth any tighter together you’re going to break your jaw!”

 
Eva tried doing as he asked, but relaxing her jaw just meant her teeth now chattered together instead.

 
Finn was right, she couldn’t do this. She really wasn’t what he wanted—

 
“Would you feel more comfortable if I took my clothes off too?”

 
“No!” Eva’s protest was a mix between shock and laughter.

 
Finn tilted his head out from behind the camera to waggle his eyebrows at her suggestively. “I really wouldn’t mind—”

 
“I said no, Finn,” laughter won out, Eva chuckling as she gave him a reproving shake of her head. “You seem to have a fetish for wanting to take your clothes off.”
 

 
As he presently had—still had—a raging erection, he would actually prefer not to take his clothes off right now.

 
But Finn had thought he’d seen the glitter of tears in Eva’s eyes a moment or so ago, and guessed she was on the verge of making another bolt for it. And he really didn’t want her to do that now that he had seen how stunning she looked through the lens of his camera. Now that he had seen she was indeed that rare thing, a woman of innocent beauty and innate sensuality.

 
He very much doubted, that at twenty-two, Eva
was
still an innocent, but she had such a look of purity shining out of those moss-green eyes, as if none of life’s disappointments or ugliness had touched her yet.

 
That combination of the innocent and the sensual siren was what Finn now desperately wanted to capture with his camera. A woman who was both beautiful and innocent, and yet possessed such an aching sensuality she was capable of ripping a man’s soul from his chest—

 
Before trampling all over it, he reminded himself sourly.

 
It was time he concentrated on what he was doing, he dismissed in self-disgust. Past time, if he was going to start waxing lyrical about a woman’s innocence.
 

 
“Tilt your head back, Eva,” he rasped gruffly. “Yes, just like that.” His camera clicked. “Lick your lips.” He clicked again. “Arch your back.” Click. “Now lean back on your hands.” Click. “Put your head forward and allow your hair to fall slowly down over your breasts until it drapes over your thighs.” Click. “Again.” Click.

Eva completely lost track of time, along with her embarrassment, as Finn took photograph after photograph, treating her as if she were nothing more than a lifeless mannequin, and he was the window-dresser.