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My gaze was drawn to his bare forearms, lean and roped with muscle, attached to strong hands with long, elegant fingers.
Fingers I loved, once upon a time. For many reasons.
A faint flush crept into my cheeks.
His dark hair boasted only hint of silver; it matched the shadow covering his jaw and gave him a commanding air of maturity he lacked in high school.
Shite. Stop it, Meg! You’re staring!
I quickly averted my eyes, fiddling with camera settings. I made a final adjustment to one of the lights, and turned to face him, propping my fists on my hips.
“Morning," he rumbled.
He shoved a coffee cup into my hand and I glanced down in surprise at the thoughtful gesture. His deep, graveled, morning voice sent an involuntary quiver down my spine, one that reverberated to my core. Pressing my lips together, I bit down on my bottom one.
Hard.
Get. It. Together. Meg.
"Hey," I replied, forcing a light and business-like tone. “Thanks. I’ve uh… I’ve got the first set prepped whenever you're ready. There’s a changing area over there,” I pointed to a large screen divider across the room, near the door to my apartment.
An awkward beat passed.
I snuck a glance at Ryker and found him studying me, his deep gray eyes unreadable. He seemed to be debating something. Finally he sighed.
“Listen, Meg… about the other day... I want you to know I meant what I said. About that kiss stirring up old feelings again." He rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat and looking uncharacteristically shy.
I blinked, touched by his honesty, bowled over once again by his bluntness. Still, I promised myself we’d keep things professional today. Anything else was just too much muchness.
But what do I say now?
Panic rose and I blurted, “I appreciate you clarifying, Ryker…” My voice trailed off and I cleared my own throat, standing straighter. Seemed clogged throats were contagious. “But let's just focus on work for now, okay?"
Ryker's gaze flickered with some emotion that sent warning bells clanging in my heart, but his shoulders relaxed in visible relief. "You got it, Boss Lady.”
My face cracked into a smile in spite of myself. “Great. Well, go get changed into your first suit, Mister CEO, so I can start objectifying you properly."
He chuckled on his way to the makeshift changing area. Soon enough, he emerged looking like a damn Armani model. The perfectly tailored suit he chose hugged every inch of his tall, powerful build and I nearly choked on my sip of coffee.
Lord have mercy, the man melted into formalwear like butter into a hot skillet.
I directed Ryker into some standard corporate poses, adjusting lighting as I went. Snapping a few test photos, I frowned. I couldn't help but feel a disconnect.
The shots felt stiff and boring.
They screamed CEO, sure, and were technically perfect, but lifeless. This wasn't the real Ryker, he was so much more than a stuffy dude in a suit.
Alright, Meg. Time to shake things up.
I needed to capture the man behind the corporate facade.
“Okay, try to relax your shoulders a bit,” I instructed, observing him through the lens. “Imagine you're at an exclusive nightclub, not a board meeting. You know, where the music’s good, and the company’s even better.”
That comment earned me a rare grin from Ryker, one that reached his eyes, crinkling the hard lines of his face into a boyish charm. My breath hitched, but I clicked the shutter rapidly, capturing the transformation.
“Much better,” I quipped, giving him an encouraging thumbs up. “How about you unbutton the top of your shirt? Let's lose the stiff executive look.”
He raised an eyebrow but complied, revealing a hint of collarbone. The change was subtle but significant. Ryker's posture relaxed further, the rigidity in his stance easing into something more natural, more him.
