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19
Tuesday evening found Elizabeth working in her darkroom, developing the roll of film Will had started when he’d taken pictures of her Monday morning. They’d used up more of the film when they went hiking Sunday, and the rest she’d finished tonight, taking pictures of the double-crested cormorants standing at attention at the end of the jetty down the beach from her house.
A few hours later she had the photos hanging on lines to dry, and smiled at one they’d taken at the river. She’d propped her camera on a rock and lined up Will in the lens, and after setting the timer, she’d run to join him. They had their arms around each other and both were laughing, and while she was looking at the camera, he was looking at her. It was the kind of spontaneous picture she loved, and told its own little story. They both looked happy, and he was looking at her with such tenderness.
The photos he’d taken of her in bed were difficult for her to look at; she was so exposed. Not physically; she was modestly covered in each. No, this exposure was purely emotional. The longing and lust that consumed her were plainly written on her face. At least, to her they were; but of course, she knew the circumstances under which the pictures were taken.
Her lips were red and a little swollen, her cheeks were pink, her hair a big, brown, tumbling mess. And her eyes, deep green and sleepy, told a story of their own. She wore a small smile, one that said she had a secret—or might have been having a naughty thought.
Bingo! Naughty thought for the win.
As self-conscious as they made her feel, she liked them and hoped Will would as well. Feeling mischievous, she opened the camera on her phone and zoomed in on one image so that only her eyes would show. She snapped the picture and immediately took another, this time of her lips. She smiled as she texted both pictures to him, and not a moment later, her phone rang.
“Oh, sweetheart. What are you doing to me?”
She chuckled. “I just wanted to give you a little preview.”
He sighed. “You're driving me insane, that's what you're doing. I can't believe I don't get to see you—or them—until tomorrow afternoon.”
“I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, I'm looking at some of the pictures I took of you when we went hiking, and you look unbelievably hot. I may even sleep with one.”
“It's only fair, since I'll be sleeping with my phone.”
She smiled. “What are you up to?”
“Not much, at the moment. I had a good workout tonight and ate some delicious lasagna, courtesy of the little Italian market down the street. I've got some contracts and the like to read. I think we'll be closing on the buildings in LA within a week or two.”
“Congratulations! That's exciting.”
“Thanks. Richard is really fired up. It's the first big deal he's handled on his own, so he's been pretty meticulous about everything. I don't know why I didn't give him more responsibility earlier; he’s certainly proven he can handle it. And it looks like our candidate of choice to head up the design branch will be coming on board. We're working out the details of her employment contract now, and we've already started renovating two of the floors in our office building in San Francisco. They’ll be the headquarters for FRD Design.”
“So is that the name you've decided on?”
“It is, thanks to you. Once you mentioned it, it stuck.”
She smiled. “I'm glad.”
“What are your plans tonight?”
“I don’t have any. I wanted to get these pictures done, and now I have to clean up the darkroom. I need to look over some things for work; I just have to get motivated to do it.”
“Those pictures you sent certainly have me motivated, but not to work.”
“What are you motivated to do?” she asked coyly.
“All kinds of things. But instead of telling you, I'll just show you tomorrow night.”
She laughed softly. “I can't wait. I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
“I'll call you in the morning.”
She wandered back into the darkroom to straighten up, and as she stared at the giant collage of pictures on her wall, she frowned. Something seemed different, but after repeatedly looking them over, she still couldn't put her finger on it. With a shrug, she turned out the light and left the room.
* * *
Elizabeth pushedthrough her workday on Wednesday, mentally ticking off the hours until she was free and could head to her softball game, where she was looking forward to being out in the fresh air—and seeing Will. The ball field was located a stone's throw from the bike path, and the weather had cleared after yesterday's pounding rainstorm, so she’d ridden her bike and enjoyed the warm, fragrant summer air.
Her cell phone chimed, and she saw a text from Georgiana.
