Krista swatted his chest but didn’t step away. “Don’t even joke about turning whatever this is between us into…content.”
He lowered his forehead to hers. “Oh, if we did pictures that way, it wouldn’t be for Elsie,” he said. “I was thinking…you’re my favorite thing to photograph.”
Her breath snagged. “Oh yeah?” she murmured.
“I would love to do a whole shoot. Just you. For me. Sunlight and shadow, bare skin. Nothing between you and the lens.”
Krista’s blush bloomed down her neck. “Nothing? I’ve never done anything like that. Like…ever.”
Joe’s thumb traced along her jaw. “It’s just for me, Queen Bee.”
Her pulse jumped under his hand, and he felt the flutter of it, delicate and fast.
“I can picture it,” he said, his voice dipping lower. “You’re standing in front of the window in the late afternoon. The light’s hitting you just right, golden and soft. You’ve just slippedoff your sweater, and you’re wearing nothing but your little black lace panties.”
Krista’s eyes widened.
“You’re looking back at me, kind of shy, kind of turned on. I’m holding the camera but all I want to do is drop it and come kiss you. And then you uncross your arms,” he continued, softer now. “Let me see everything. Your body, your perfect curves. The camera captures that look in your eyes. The one that says you want me.”
A smile curved across her lips, equal parts nervous and bold.
“Okay,” she said, voice husky but controlled. “Now let me tell you what I see.”
Joe’s pulse was kicking hard in his throat.
“You’re standing in my apartment,” she continued, gaze locking onto his as she stepped closer. “It’s late. You’ve been working all day—sunburned, sweaty, probably grumpy—but still stupidly hot in your ruined-shirt, wild-hair kind of way. I tell you to sit,” she added, her voice just shy of a whisper. “So you do. On my couch. Legs wide, arms draped across the back. Like you own the place. Like you own me.”
His breath left him in a slow exhale.
“I drop to my knees,” she went on, smile wicked. “Right between yours. And I slide my hands up those thighs. Slowly.”
Joe reached for her then. He couldn’t help it, but she dodged just enough to stay out of reach, delight dancing in her eyes.
“See?” she said sweetly, backing away a step. “You’re not the only one with a vivid imagination.”
His voice was wrecked. “What are you doing to me?”
Krista just winked, tossed her hair over one shoulder, and sauntered off down the sidewalk like she hadn’t justbrought him to his knees.
Joe watched her go, jaw clenched, body aching, his hands still curled in midair.
That fantasy?
It wasn’t going to stay one much longer.
TWENTY-FIVE
KRISTA
Saturday, Day Two of the Summer Swap
Krista didn’t look back as she kept walking toward the car, which they’d parked near the Cinnamon Spice Inn. The plan was to split up at the Hideaway, with Joe starting work as Krista headed back to the campground to go through the photos and maybe work on a bit of copy to accompany them, just as Joe would do. She planned to share her experience of capturing Maple Falls, and what she was learning along the way.
For now, she was savoring every minute spent with Joe. She’d forgotten how carefree and playful flirting could be—how easy it was to toss a line over her shoulder and feel a man trip over it.
Joe fell into step beside her, close enough that his arm brushed hers every few strides. Close enough that she could smell her citrusy shampoo that he must have used back at her place. She fought hard not to picture him in her shower and failed…miserably.
Up ahead, on the porch side of the Cinnamon Spice Inn, Madison and Zach were mid-project, surrounded by bags ofmulch and a messy scatter of potted flowers. Zach had a wheelbarrow angled toward the steps. Madison was crouched near a flowerbed, hair pulled up, gardening gloves on, the kind of focused determination that Krista recognized all too well.
