Don’t Call Me Sweetheart (6 page)

And he was looking directly at her. Abruptly finishing his
conversation with Jag, Christian strode purposefully to where Whitney perched
in silent dread.

“I see you came after all, Whitney,” Christian commented,
placing one foot on the bottom rung of Tess’ vacant chair so he could rest his
forearm across his thigh. He sounded as delicious as he looked, the deep timber
of his voice sliding past her defenses and leaving Whitney glad she was sitting
down.

Knowing she couldn’t just ignore him her eyes slid upward
and met his. She held her breath, not daring to speak for fear she would trip
over her tongue. For someone who made their living manipulating words on paper
she was having more than her fair share of trouble when it came time to
actually speaking them. At least when Christian Dade was around.

“I was hoping you would but I thought Tess was coming with
you,” Christian continued throwing a brief glance over his shoulder. Whitney
squirmed uneasily in the chair, wishing Jag would intervene again like he had
so many times already today. People could be so irritatingly undependable at
times.

Say something, stupid.

“She did but there was a problem with your girlfriend—I mean
the other model—and Tess had to leave to take care of it right away. I don’t
mean she left actually. Um… She’s in the office over there and I’m sure she’ll
be right back if you need to speak to her.”

Well, if you were trying to say something stupid you
certainly hit a bull’s-eye.

Whitney didn’t have time to worry about how clumsy she
sounded. Her mind was racing as she thought about the evening ahead and her
promise to escort Christian around the city. Tess was just going to have to
find a good excuse for her to back out gracefully. She would make an utter fool
of herself if she had to spend any length of time alone with this man. A few
minutes in his presence and she had already turned to mush. And he, damn his
hide, thought it was funny.

Jag snapped his fingers in Christian’s direction indicating
he was needed back on the set. Whitney released the breath she had been
holding, grateful that the infernal man was taking his bad boy grin elsewhere. An
employee lowered the lights, casting deep shadows into the simulated office and
Whitney had to blink several times to help her eyes adjust to the change. She
welcomed the opportunity to melt into the darkness.

Mesmerized, she watched as Christian positioned himself
behind the desk, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his coat and shirt. Her eyes
grew wide and if asked Whitney knew she would have been unable to look away for
all the money in the world. Christian was being paid to look sexy and no one
could argue that he wasn’t worth every penny. With no one else in the room
except Jag, who was busy making adjustments to his cameras, tripods and lights,
it was as if Christian was undressing for her alone and the unfamiliar stirrings
brought on by that notion left Whitney squirming in her chair for an entirely
different reason. She was immensely grateful for the dimness surrounding her.

Jag instructed Christian to turn first this way, then that,
trying to set the lighting for the shots he would need. For her part, Whitney
silently devoured the sight of smooth rippling muscles visible between the
unbuttoned front of Christian’s shirt. The dark springy hair curling across his
broad chest trailed downward over a firm abdomen before disappearing beneath
the waistband of his slacks, just as she had imagined it would yesterday in the
restaurant. Knowing she shouldn’t but unable to stop herself, her eyes followed
the dark line down each incredible inch of his massive frame. Yesterday she had
dreamed of undressing him this way and today that dream was coming true right
before her eyes. She would have to be careful what she wished for next.

“Whitney!”

She blinked, surprised that Jag even remembered she was
there. “Yes?”

“I’ve called you three times, darlin’. Didn’t you hear me? I
can’t get this shot placed right unless Christian has someone to lean across
and it’s just not working having him pretend there’s a woman under him on that
desk.” Jag walked over to her and took her suddenly cold hands in his. Whitney
was horrified. Surely he wasn’t suggesting that she take the model’s place up
on that desk!

“If you would help us out until that twit the agency was
going to send over decides she’s being paid to actually work I would consider
it a great personal favor.” At her stubborn look of refusal the photographer
smoothly interjected, “I promise I won’t let him really ravish you sweetheart,
it’s just going to look like that’s the only thing on his mind.” Jag gave her
one of his most disarming smiles but its effect was lost on her.

“N-N-Nooo,” Whitney stammered, mortified by the thought of
actually lying beneath Christian while two strong arms cradled her to that
splendid naked chest. It had been oh-so-nice to daydream about but having
yesterday’s naughty thoughts turn into today’s reality was far too unnerving. And
much too dangerous. For her at least. “I just… No! I couldn’t do that!”

“Of course you can, honey,” Jag answered with a wink and a
firm voice, pulling her from her chair and leading her, still protesting, to
where Christian waited with his arms crossed over his chest, the corners of his
mouth quirking with amusement.

“We have a bride for you now, buddy.” Jag announced
humorously to Christian as he sent Whitney tumbling his direction with little
shove to overcome her obvious unwillingness to participate. “Seems she’s a
little on the bashful side though. I’ll leave it up to you to see if you can’t
convince her we aren’t going to take anything from her other than a little time.”

Christian grinned and took full advantage of the opportunity
to draw Whitney close against him, pulling her tightly against his chest as he
ducked his head to whisper, “Just pretend you’re Lane McLaughlin and I’m here
to audition.”

Whitney’s head snapped back and her eyes met Christian’s
intense gaze. The moment her sparkling green eyes collided with the blazing
black pools above her she was lost. At that moment, time stood still and Whitney
discovered that she wanted—no, she needed—Christian’s embrace more than she had
ever needed anything else. She didn’t care that the situation was completely
contrived, that Christian was only acting. And she swiftly silenced the voice
of reason screaming at her subconscious not to abandon all semblances of
modesty and morality. For once, her head lost to her heart.

This man was the phantom lover who had haunted her dreams
for years and who had filled her dreams last night as well. And for one
indescribable moment he was holding her the way a man was meant to hold the
woman he loves. She was in his arms now and she never wanted to leave.

“I’ve really never done this sort of thing before,” Whitney
confessed shyly, peering up at Christian.

Of course she meant posing in front of a professional
photographer but the laughter in Christian’s eyes told her he had heard an
entirely different meaning behind her innocent confession. Whitney’s face
flushed crimson at the realization. She couldn’t possibly know her companion
was captivated by her naiveté, desire heating his blood in response to her in a
way no other woman had ever succeeded in doing. If she had, she might have
found the strength she needed to escape the pleasurable prison his arms had
become.

Jag was ready to keep things moving along now that he had
two people in place.

“Whitney, I want you to lean backward across the desk, you
help her Christian. Yes, just like that. And Christian, I want you to support
her back with your arms and cradle her head with one hand. No, I can’t see… Use
your right hand. There, that’s better. Now stay just like that while I get off
a few shots.”

Whitney held herself rigid within the confines of Christian’s
muscled embrace, finding it nearly impossible to believe she was actually
there. Only a short time before, perched on that miserable little chair, hadn’t
she been laughing about the impossibility of such an occurrence? But here she
was and she couldn’t possibly ignore the way the hard, male body pressed
solidly against hers made her feel as Christian leaned across her. Her head was
trying desperately to keep things in perspective but there wasn’t a nerve in
her body that wasn’t screaming for more as her hands pressed against the naked
warmth of Christian’s wide chest, her fingers slipping through the fine black
hair she found there. The searing skin beneath her palms left her feeling
scorched both inside and out.

Confused. She was so confused by the smoldering look in the
dark eyes regarding hers. The blatant amusement she had seen moments ago
disappeared completely and she watched, transfixed, as Christian’s gaze dropped
from her frightened face to skim her shoulders then boldly devour the rest of
her body. Whitney tried to stare at the burning light bulb directly above her,
the wooden crossbeams hanging above the set, anything she could find to keep
from meeting the smoky eyes that had filled with an intense passion she couldn’t,
wouldn’t, believe she saw.

In the end she gave up, realizing it wasn’t helping. She
knew instinctively that Christian wasn’t acting anymore. And she wasn’t either.

Whitney was so caught up in the emotions swirling about her,
she forgot that Jag was still present, clicking off shot after shot. Her breath
was coming in erratic little gasps and Whitney barely heard him ask if she and
Christian would shift a bit to their right to allow more light to play across
their features. Christian did the shifting for both of them, effortlessly
lifting her weight while he repositioned them as directed.

Her sharp intake as their hips settled intimately against
one another’s left little doubt in either Christian’s or Whitney’s mind that
her nearness was having a distinct effect on him. Whitney blushed, realizing
that Christian’s body was reacting to hers with the same intensity she was
experiencing despite the fact that they were both fully clothed. Well, she was
at any rate, not to mention the fact that there was a stranger busily snapping
pictures of the reactions they were unintentionally evoking in one another.

Christian and Whitney were nearly oblivious to Jag as he
moved around them, clicking off one shot after the other. Each was lost in
their own thoughts, unaware that a thread, delicate in its dawning, had begun
to form between them.

With Jag encouraging more feeling, morepassion, in
order to tell if he was getting the desired effect on film, Christian took
advantage of the opportunity and brought his mouth crashing down on Whitney’s,
claiming her lips in a demanding kiss that set her soul aflame with an aching
need just as it was intended to do.

Her body responded instinctively with a will of its own and
Whitney was powerless to stop her arms from wrapping themselves around
Christian’s corded neck, drawing him to her as her lips parted beneath the
onslaught of his velvety kiss. Her shyness ebbed with each touch of his moist,
firm lips as hungry kisses branded her bruised lips, her flushed cheeks and the
wildly beating pulse at the hollow of her neck.

Forgotten was the quiet, sheltered woman, content to create
passion between the pages of books. In her place emerged a long forgotten
temptress who wanted, needed, more than what life had offered lately. Of its
own accord her body melded itself to Christian’s, straining to encircle the
power he exuded, answering his searing caresses with exploring embraces born of
instinct. For once Whitney freed herself to fully experience the wondrous,
wanton feelings racing through her, refusing to stop and assess the sudden
overwhelming change in herself.

“Well, it looks like you decided to start without me and our
missing model,” Tess observed dryly, her keen eyes taking in the scene before
her as she stepped back into the room. Three pairs of startled eyes turned her
direction. In that horrifying split second sanity rushed in to reclaim control
over her erratic behavior and Whitney realized exactly where she was—and what
she had been doing.

Oh God…what had she been thinking! More importantly, what
would Christian think of her after such an inexcusable display of
licentiousness?

She pushed desperately at him to gain her release, needing
to distance herself from the heat of his body and the smell of arousal clinging
to his skin. But the devil deliberately took his sweet time standing up, stopping
long enough to trail his hands slowly down her arms as he helped her to her
feet, making no effort to cover himself. Whitney was shaken to her very core.

She backed away and stood, breathless, trying wildly to
collect her thoughts. She must have been mad to agree to this! It didn’t matter
that the thought of Christian was sweet temptation itself, that he set her
heart racing with every glance. He would think the worst about her now. How
could he not? He had just been acting, doing what was required to collect his
pay. But she had no excuses for her behavior. It was to his credit that he had
been able to elicit responses from her she didn’t know she was capable of,
while he gave the appearance that he too, had been as emotionally involved as
she had been.

He was one hell of an actor but Whitney had nothing to
explain the manner in which she had behaved.

“Well, where is the worthless chit who has us so far behind
schedule? I’ve done what I can with these two but we really need to get past
the preliminaries.” Jag’s question was directed at Tess but it also served to
cut into Whitney’s jumbled thoughts.

“It looks as if some of you are already past the
preliminaries,” Tess announced wryly, the suggestion of a smile tugging at the
corners of her mouth. She stared accusingly at Christian but he was too busy
regarding Whitney with still smoldering eyes to notice. The look Tess read in
his expressive black pools told her that for him this days’ work couldn’t end
soon enough.