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I knew he’d say yes.
“I better be getting paid for this,” I mumble and go into the dressing room, slamming the door like a true diva.
Someone knocks on the door after I’ve dressed. Thank goodness I shaved this morning. How horrendous would that have been?
I open the door a sliver.
“Ready?” Cooper has a robe on, and suddenly this all seems way too real.
“What am I doing? I am not a model,” I whisper to him.
He slithers through the opening, and I shut the door after him.
“I’m not a model either,” Cooper says.
“No, but you’re model-worthy. I work in the emergency room, where I’m fully clothed every day, most of the time in baggy scrubs. I do not have the body to be modeling underwear.”
He scowls at me. “Yeah, you do.”
“No.” I shake my head. Panic has me in its grip.
“Come on. I’ve seen you in a swimsuit. It’s practically the same thing.”
“I saw those briefs. They aren’t boxers like a swimsuit, they’re tight and clingy and they’re going to show parts of you I haven’t seen before.” Unless you count the one or two times I’ve walked in on Cooper. Even then, I never saw his full package. I’ve imagined it, but… ugh… I need to clear my mind of this damn image.
There’s a knock on the door before the woman calls, “Ready?”
“Sure, now she sounds all sweet,” I grumble.
Cooper opens the door. “Let’s just get this over with and then you can start planning that vacation.”
I close my eyes. Beach, water, waves, sand, a good book. No alarms, bells, or patients being disorderly.
I open my eyes. It’s the same as a swimsuit. Cooper is right. “Okay, let’s go.”
“That’s my girl,” Cooper says.
I love it when he calls me his girl, but right now, it sounds more like a father saying it to his daughter than anything romantic.
We walk onto the set, and I see that Bradley has scored himself a chair. How did I forget about him being here? He’s got chips and a slice of pizza on a plate on his lap now.
My shin hits something soft, and I look down to see that I ran into a bed. A bed that wasn’t here earlier. Panic erupts through me again. They deal with Cooper first, and he undoes his robe as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. And why would he? He’s like a bloody god. I can’t even tell you the last time I lifted weights—unless helping a nurse get a three-hundred-pound man back into his bed counts.
I’ve seen Cooper almost naked before, but it’s been a while. I soak up the image of his abs as they dip and crest along his stomach. The little patch of hair from his belly button disappears down past the elastic waist of the black briefs, where his package looks all snug and perfect. God, I turn my head and discreetly wipe my mouth in case I’m drooling.
“Now you. Take off the robe and slide in right under that white sheet next to Cooper,” the woman says.
Cooper is about to laugh. I can see it in his eyes. He knows how freaked out I am about this, but he also knows I’ll do it because I’d do just about anything for him.
He pulls the sheet back beside him. “Come on, sweetie.”
I roll my eyes and untie my robe. It drops to the floor, and I dive under the covers before anyone else gets a good view—I hope.
“We’ve shared a bed before,” Cooper says, as though that’s going to put me at ease.
“Not in our underwear and not with twenty sets of eyes on us.”
Once Cooper is in the position they want on top of the blanket, the photographer comes closer and snaps pictures while giving us directions. I’m sitting up with the bra showing in one picture, and in another one, I have a bare leg out and just part of my underwear showing. He gets Cooper to lie across the bed and rest his head on my stomach. We pretend to read a book, my head on his shoulder, his ankles crossed. His cologne smells good, and his skin is way softer than I would have imagined.
