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“What I lived through is something I was hoping to relegate to the past. So much for that idea.” Morgan massaged her forehead, visibly affected by reliving that night.
“You’ve been through hell,” Lane observed quietly.
“Yes,” she agreed. “And it looks like I’m back there again.”
It was with great restraint that Lane didn’t reach over and take her hand. But instinct told him she wouldn’t welcome the physical contact.
He was about to suggest they change the subject, when the waiter solved the problem by choosing that moment to arrive with their food.
A look of sheer relief flashed across Morgan’s face. “This looks fabulous.” She smiled her thanks at the waiter, then turned her attention to her burger, picking it up and taking a big, juicy bite. “Yum.”
Lane followed her lead, falling silent as he prepared his own food, took a few appreciative bites. “Don’t forget the lamb chops,” he reminded her a few minutes later. “We’re splitting those.” He indicated the two plates.
“Don’t worry. I won’t. In fact, I’m so hungry that if I were you, I’d protect my half.”
He chuckled. “Feel free. I’ll order more, if necessary.”
Morgan took another bite, chewed slowly, then swallowed, watching Lane as she did. She put down her burger and tucked her hair behind her ear. “We’ve discussed the hell out of me. Let’s talk about you for a change.”
He made a wide sweep with his arm. “I’m an open book. What do you want to know?”
“What got you interested in photography?”
“Life did. Life and my personality. I always found it fascinating to capture the essence of an entire story in one shot. There’s a great deal of truth to the expression ‘a picture’s worth a thousand words’—if it’s the right picture, of the right story, taken by the right photographer.”
“Which, in your case, it is.”
“Usually. Hopefully. Added to that was my fascination with photographic technology. F-stops and photo-lab chemistry were cool enough. Then came the modern age—digital cameras and computer image enhancement. I’m in my glory.”
“Not to mention traveling all over the world, and inserting yourself right in the middle of high-risk situations like civil wars and natural disasters, and participating in thrill-seeking adventures like the ones you and Arthur are about to embark on.”
Lane grinned. “Yeah, that, too. I admit there’s a lot of daredevil in me.”
“How long have you been photographing professionally?”
“Since college.”
Morgan whistled. “That’s impressive.”
“Not when you hear how I made my money back then. I was full of myself, my skills, and my immortality. I wanted a fast life and a fast buck. So job number one was as a paparazzo.” A corner of his mouth lifted as he saw Morgan’s reaction. “Pretty skanky, huh? Following the rich and famous in the hopes of catching them doing something newsworthy, or gossip-worthy, that no one else has snapped them doing before?”
“It’s not a career I would aspire to. That doesn’t mean I don’t understand why you did it.”
Now that comment irked him. He wasn’t sure why. Yeah, actually he was. The way she said it, so clinically, as if she were figuring him out so she could properly place him—it made him feel like one of her clients. Which was the last thing he wanted to be.
“This should be interesting,” he noted drily. “I can’t wait to hear your analysis of what drives me.”
Her brows rose. “Testy, aren’t we?”
“Just skeptical.”
“In other words, I’m good at what I do so long as I don’t do it to you.”
Dead-on again. “That’s not what I meant.” He wasn’t giving up without a fight. “It’s just that, given how differently we approach life, I can’t imagine you understanding my motivations.”
“Why not? Because I don’t enjoy pushing the boundaries of my own mortality? That’s not because I don’t understand. It’s because I know how fragile life is.”
He’d walked right into that one. And he felt like a bastard. “Morgan, I…”
