Picture Me Sexy Read Online Free PDF Page A

smiled, which resulted in a serious quiver below her navel. To her immeasurable chagrin, heat bolted up her spine. “I don’t think a decorator would get it.”
    Well, she most definitely got it and she loved it, recognized him as a kindred spirit of sorts. Her sensuality came through in her designs, his came through in his photography and decorating.
    How refreshing to meet a man who seemed to take genuine pleasure and interest in surrounding himself with nice things. Even Roger—who’d possessed a great deal more class than most of the men of her acquaintance—had deferred to a decorator’s judgment when furnishing his house. If he hadn’t, the expensive Georgian home would undoubtedly be decorated with Elvis on velvet and bizarre sculptures made out of beer tabs.
    â€œYou’ve done a wonderful job,” Delaney finally told him. “It’s truly remarkable. Enough old and new to make it interesting.”
    â€œI like antiques. They have character.” He took one last cursory glance at his camera, deemed it ready and looked up. “So where do you want to start?” he asked again, clearly ready to set this shootin motion. “I don’t mean to rush you, but we’re losing natural light.”
    Delaney nodded. “Right. I, uh…” She looked from scene to scene, and tried to make her up mind. She bit her bottom lip. “Well, with this gown, I think the chaise would work best. But I’m not the photographer. What do you think?”
    â€œI agree. The peasant gown has a whimsical feel. It’ll look good against the green fabric on the chaise.”
    She wouldn’t look good on the chaise, but the gown would. Delaney ignored the prick of irritation and summoned a smile. She didn’t necessarily want him to find her attractive, still… She was half-naked and he was a man—he was supposed to notice.
    While his unimpressed attitude certainly wasn’t doing her self-esteem any good, she could truthfully admit that the familiar claw of desperation brought on by her modesty wasn’t rearing its ugly head. She supposed there was nothing to be modest about if a man wasn’t interested.
    â€œI’m going to put on a little mood music before we get started,” Sam said. “Do you mind?”
    Still unreasonably perturbed, Delaney shook her head. “Not at all. Go ahead.” Whatever tripped his trigger. Evidently it wasn’t her. Which was good, Delaney reminded herself again and resisted the urge to grind her teeth. Men were a no-no. Right? Right.
    Nevertheless, she found her gaze inexplicably drawn to him. She liked the way he moved, unhurried yet purposeful. Sensual. If the man paid such close attention to detail when it came to his home and his profession, one could reasonably deduce that he’d be an equally meticulous lover. Slow and thorough, leisurely—
    Otis Redding’s “Sittin’ On The Dock Of The Bay” suddenly resonated from hidden speakers, derailing that unproductive line of thought. That smooth, smoky voice moved over her, pushed her lips into a late-blooming smile. Somehow the music choice suited Sam Martelli. He looked like the type who would appreciate Otis. He was a favorite of hers as well.
    Sam tested the light around the chaise, and after a few adjustments, deemed it acceptable. “Okay. I’m ready when you are.”
    Delaney made her way over to the set, acutely aware once more of how little she wore. So what if it had long sleeves and hit her just barely below mid-thigh? What difference did it make if she felt naked?
    â€œI was right,” Sam said matter-of-factly. “The gown is perfect.”
    Delaney felt her eyes narrow as another wave of annoyance surged through her. The gown again. Not her. She was proud of the damned gown—she’d designed it, after all—but honestly. Wasn’t it his job to make her feel sexy?
    She expelled a frustrated