It had continued to storm on and off for the next twenty-four hours, so Charlotte was beyond relieved when Thursday turned out to be lovely. A clear sky, warm air, and she’d located the most perfect—and practically abandoned—road for their photo session.
Good thing her plans had come together, because tonight Dean Troyer was going to be a full-fledged, badass bike-club hero, and she could not wait.
The extra work for this particular shoot would be well worth it, she was certain. She’d located a legit bike club in the next town over through Facebook crowdsourcing, and talked one of the guys into riding his vintage Harley over. In return she would be taking a few shots of the bike alone for him personally and having them printed. No big deal, although she found it ironically funny that biker novels were so popular yet according to Facebook photos the guys in this little midwestern club were about as far from physically sexy as one could get. Ah well, it was all in the fantasy, right?
“Booker,” also known as Dr. Bill Hanson, equine veterinarian, was going to meet them at seven o’clock on an old country road on the south side of Maple Springs. Right now Charlotte waited for Dean to arrive at her place. She wasn’t sure if he’d actually come in, she’d meet him at the door, or how things would play out, but she’d cleaned up anyway.
She’d curled her hair but at the last moment decided that was silly since she’d be shooting, and so she’d pulled it into a messy bun and thrown on some cutoff jean shorts and one of her favorite halter tops. It did some nice things for her boobs, which she shouldn’t be worrying about, but it was Dean after all and she couldn’t help but think about their last meeting. She’d fed him with her own fork, for goodness’ sake.
Checking over her equipment one more time, Charlotte’s heart sped up when her doorbell sounded. She glanced in the mirror by her front door, which was unnecessary since she’d already done that several times, and then opened the front door. Her mouth dropped open.
Holy shit.
She’d texted Dean some basic guidelines for how to look and what to wear. He had done exactly as instructed. A well-trimmed five-o’clock shadow dusted his chiseled jaw, he sported some mirrored aviator sunglasses, and his hair was gelled into a perfectly tousled “undone” look. He should definitely do that more often. His chest was molded by a black T-shirt so perfectly sized she could see the outline of his beautifully formed pecs and indented biceps. The look was rounded out with well-fitted jeans and black boots.
He lifted his hands from his sides and glanced down at himself. “How’d I do?”
Charlotte clapped her hands together and brought them to her mouth to conceal her now ridiculous grin. Or at least try to. She knew it hadn’t worked when Dean managed to blush and smile down at the ground.
“You look so hot right now,” Charlotte said, dropping her hands and looking him up and down openly one more time. “This is definitely going to work.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded, loving the hint of embarrassment in his voice. God he was adorable. “You’re perfect. But wait. Did you…”
Without her having to ask, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and slowly lifted it up to expose himself from waist to chest, and oh my, with his pecs bare she nearly passed out at the sight of his perfection.
Jen had been completely right. Dean’s body was wonderful. He wasn’t an overly beefy gym rat, but his stomach muscles were taut and defined, his hips indented, and his chest just the right size.
“You owe me for this one, babe. And you better take advantage and get a million photos because I’m never shaving my chest again.” He pointed to a couple of red spots, one very close to his nipple. “I cut myself. Three times.”
She laughed out loud as Dean lowered his shirt. “You poor thing, I’m sorry. No, actually I’m not. Not sorry at all. The ladies are going to love it. And you wouldn’t believe how annoying it is to clone out body hair in edits, so I also love you for it.”
Dean scowled but she could tell it was all for show. “Well, let’s get this over with. I can only take so much blatant sexism in one day. It makes me uncomfortable.”
Charlotte laughed. “I’ll meet you at the car, I have to grab all my gear.”
He offered to drive them in his SUV so within a few minutes they were pulling up alongside an older guy wearing dirty jeans and a polo-style shirt that said SUPERIOR EQUINE CARE, DR. HANSON. What a rebel.
A pickup was parked on the shoulder of the road behind his Harley and an older woman waved to Charlotte from the driver’s seat. She waved back.
“Hi, Bill, thanks so much for meeting us out here.”
“No problem at all. I’m honored to have Gertie here used on a book cover. And to get some pretty pictures of her.”
“Gertie?” Dean asked.
Bill patted the seat of his bike. “This old girl. Had her for forty years. Driven me all over the country. Even been to Sturgis sixteen times.”
“That’s so cool,” Charlotte said. “I really appreciate this.”
Bill lifted a black vest covered with patches out of the saddlebag on the side of his bike and handed it to Charlotte. “Brought this like you asked. Take good care of it. It’s special.”
“I promise we will.” She held it up and turned to the backside. It read BOOKER across the shoulder blades. She’d probably have to Photoshop that out, but that one would be no problem. Otherwise it was perfect. She turned to Dean. “You ready to become a biker?”
She could see the skepticism clouding his expression, but he turned to Dr. Hanson. “Thank you, sir, we’ll take good care of your things.”
“I appreciate it. And goodness knows you’ll look much better in that than I do. Don’t let my wife see these photos, she’ll never be satisfied by the likes of me again.”
Charlotte laughed. “Now, I’m sure that’s not true.”
“Well, we’ll be back in, say … an hour?” Bill asked.
“An hour should be just fine.”
“I left the key.” He glanced at Dean. “You familiar with a machine like this?”
“I’ve ridden before.”
“Okay, good. Well then, I’ll just let you get to it.”
And with that Mr. Hanson and his old lady—Charlotte had been waiting for him to say that and was disappointed he hadn’t—drove away, leaving them alone with an old Harley named Gertie on a deserted country road.
“So, how do we start?” Dean asked. His voice seemed a little off, and she could feel his anxiety from three feet away.
“First of all, don’t be nervous.”
“That’s much easier said than done. I’m just really not sure I will be good at this, so I hope you’ve shown up with very low expectations.”
On the contrary, her expectations were incredibly high and just by looking at him she was certain they’d be met. It really surprised her that Dean had such little confidence. She’d just always assumed the opposite based on the way he carried himself. It was endearing for a super-handsome man to not have a big ego. “You’ll be great, I know it. And I’ll help you. Remember, I’ve done this many times.”
He scowled at that. “Are you usually on deserted roads with these men? Alone?”
Her eyes met his and she had to keep from rolling them. “Stop. I’m a big girl.”
“What does that have to do with anything? And you’re not a big girl. You’re … tiny. And young.”
Charlotte’s mouth dropped open. “Young?”
“I just mean, compared with me you’re young.”
She made a sound of annoyance. But finally, a good opener to ask the million-dollar question. “How old are you?”
He hesitated for a long moment, swallowing hard before finally answering. “I’m forty-one.”
Okay.
Yes. There was an age difference. He was … over forty. She’d guessed maybe forty, but knowing for certain made it real. Did it matter? Not to her. Not even a little bit. But obviously, he had an issue with it. She wished she knew why. It wasn’t like they had something going on between them. And it wasn’t as if she were twenty, for goodness’ sake. They were both grown adults, but she couldn’t help wondering if the age gap was what had held their flirting at bay for the past few years.
“Dean, forty-one is nowhere near old.” She fiddled with the vest, draping it across the seat for the time being.
“But it’s older than you’d expected. Isn’t it?”
How did she answer that one? “No, not at all.”
Dean chuckled. “Jesus, don’t tell me you thought I was older.”
Her eyes jerked up to his. “No! And can we please drop this conversation?”
His lips quirked up. “We can, after you tell me how old you are.”
“I’m twenty-nine.” She stared up at him and he nodded slowly, taking the information in. His lips pursed a bit. She wished she could see his eyes, read his thoughts, but his glasses remained in place and his expression was impassive. “Is that going to be a problem for us?”
Okay, now his expression changed. She could tell by the furrowing of his brow that his eyes narrowed, and there was a distinct new intensity emanating from his body. “What exactly are you asking, Charlotte?”
Good question. And how embarrassing. They’d flirted for a long time, but that was all it had been. She’d leave the Stag and they wouldn’t speak again until the next time she did a wedding there. Sometimes that would be a couple of months. They’d never even exchanged numbers. But now … tension hung between them thick enough to cut.
“I don’t know, never mind. Let’s just start.”
He didn’t respond so she took that as agreement.
“Can you move the bike to the middle of the road?” she asked. “I’ll take this time to get a few of just Gertie, get my settings right.”
After she’d taken a few at different angles and was satisfied she had enough to give Dr. Hanson some good images, she had Dean lean against the Harley carefully. He watched her as she instructed him on where to put his hands, how to position his legs. When she stood back and took him in, she smiled.
“You look great.”
“I feel ridiculous.” His words were toneless, as if he was afraid to make any movement at all.
“Well, don’t. You’re oozing hotness. Now look right here.” Charlotte backed up a little and lifted her camera. She adjusted a couple of settings and then looked through the lens. This was good. Too good. But his face … he was nearly scowling at her. Lips tight and jaw severe. Was he really that uncomfortable? Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him to do this. She lowered the camera.
“Your expression needs a little work. Broody is good, but it needs to slide into the sultry zone. More sex, less fury. Feel me?”
He muttered something she couldn’t quite catch. Then he took a deep breath while he leaned his head to the right and then the left in what appeared to be a neck pop, and then he looked at her once more.
And that was it.
She was a goner. He had the smoldering sexy look down. Immediately Charlotte lifted her camera and captured it before it disappeared. “Oh my goodness. That’s amazing, Dean. Don’t change a thing.”
She moved to the side, switching up her angle, catching a different ray of light that perfectly reflected off the metal of the bike. For several moments she made minor adjustments to his body, the direction of his gaze, and shot away. She continued to talk him up, knowing from experience that the more positive feedback she gave, the better the results.
“This is amazing, Dean. You pull sexy off effortlessly. I knew you would,” she called out. And if any model had needed a confidence boost, it was Dean. It was also fun to have a good excuse to tell him what she thought about him. She was rewarded with some genuine, sexy smiles.
When she took a break to look at the images, he spoke.
“How many more do you need?”
“As many as you’re willing to give me. And you thought you wouldn’t be good at this. What a tease.”
“I appreciate you saying that.”
“Well, I want you to know I mean it.”
Their eyes met and Charlotte took a moment to just stare at him. It made her sad that he wasn’t enjoying this as much as she’d hoped. Something was off today, and that age conversation hadn’t really helped things. She didn’t know what to do to get them back on course with the fun banter that usually took place between them. Maybe now that they were seeing each other more frequently, he’d decided it was no longer appropriate. What a shame that would be.
Charlotte reached into her bag and pulled out a white tank undershirt.
“What do you think about putting this on? I think it would look good under the vest.”
“I think that you’re the boss,” he said, holding out a hand. She tossed him the shirt.
“Okay. We’ll do a set of those and then just a few other things. Shouldn’t be too much longer. You’re doing great.”
Not wanting to be too obvious in her ogling, she forced herself to focus on her camera equipment while he changed. Once the top and vest were in place, he looked like the real deal. Tough, sexy, and full-on biker.
For the next fifteen minutes she directed him to lean into the front of the bike, lean back, to the side. She shot from behind him, lying on the ground and angling upward as he gazed into the distance through the aviator glasses. She was probably taking way more than necessary, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Some of them weren’t even suitable for a book cover. They were just … hot.
“Should we take a break? And then, uh, maybe we can do some without the shirt. If you’re willing.”
“I’m good. Let’s just keep on going so we can get it over with.”
Okay.
Without hesitating he ditched the vest and carefully laid it back in the leather saddlebag before he immediately pulled the tank over his head and tossed it toward the side of the road. Charlotte held her reaction in check, but her entire body was responding to the sight of Dean Troyer shirtless. It was beyond breathtaking. Prophecies might have been written about this moment. Maybe she should have written one.
When Charlotte Linley sees Dean Troyer with no shirt on, she will never again settle for less than a four-pack.
His was a solid six, but she’d settle for four, because reality was still a bitch.
“So … okay.” She could barely remember what should happen next. Which was ridiculous because this was not the first time she’d photographed a beautiful man. But this was the first time that beautiful man was Dean. The same man who had starred in her fantasies for almost three years. Some of them innocent, many of them not. “Why don’t you go ahead and get back on the bike.”
She had him repeat a few of the poses they’d already done, because honestly, shirtless they’d become something completely different. Then she had him do a few standing next to the bike, leaning on it, some with glasses, some without, and then eventually she lowered her camera.
He stepped away from the bike and, thank goodness, didn’t immediately put his shirt on. The sun was slowly setting behind the trees, and because it was only May, a hint of a chill was on the breeze. Nobody ever talked about a man’s nipples hardening. That was a shame, because she realized it was a complete turn-on. She glanced down at the screen on her camera and began to scroll through the images she’d taken.
“These are going to be so good. The light is amazing right now. Too bad we don’t have a female here.”
He made his way toward her. “A female. Like in the photos with me?”
“Yeah, you know how romance covers are, right? A lot of times there’s a couple.”
He seemed to be processing that. After a moment he lifted his chin in her direction. “How about you?”
Charlotte laughed. “Uhh, I’m sort of taking the photos. Plus … I’m not really cover material.”
“You can’t be serious. Charlotte, you…” He looked her up and down. “Are sexy as hell. And I have a feeling that fancy camera has a self-timer.”
Had he really just said that to her? She was pretty sure she’d heard him right, but oh how she wished she would have known that was going to come out of his mouth so she could have listened very carefully in order to savor the sound of those words on his lips. You are sexy as hell. She’d be adding that line to her fantasies, no doubt about it.
“Thank you, that was nice of you to say.”
The corner of Dean’s lips quirked and he looked at the road. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”
Nothing like a metaphorical splash of cold water on your ego. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“Not that I don’t mean it, I do. I just … you know, shouldn’t have said it.”
“It’s fine. Not like we don’t flirt with each other.”
“Well, yeah. But that’s all for fun. While we’re working.”
And now she wanted to crawl in a hole. Of course it was all for fun, but his words still stung a little.
“Sure,” she lied. “But this is also working.”
His brow creased a little. “Anyway, I still think we should do it,” he said. “Get as much out of this chest shave as possible.” He winked at her.
Charlotte pursed her lips, considering it. “I actually do have a remote. I use it during wedding ceremonies sometimes so I can hide a camera.”
“Nice. Well, get it out, set it up on the hood of the car, and get in this shot.”
“What about my hair?”
Dean took the three steps that separated them and reached toward the back of her head. With a quick movement her bun was dislodged, allowing her hair to fall down around her shoulders. “I think that pretty much takes care of it.”
Charlotte sucked in a breath, nervous about her proximity to his bare chest. She’d stood near Dean in the past. During wedding receptions, the music was so loud they had to get close to hear each other, and he’d always smelled of musky cologne. Today she still picked up on that, but there was more. It was mixed with the scent of his skin warmed by the setting sun, and maybe a hint of … shaving cream? That made her smile.
“So set it up,” he repeated.
“Okay,” was all she could say at that point, because she wanted to do this. She might never get another chance to be so close to him.
Charlotte got into her bag, found her remote setup, and got it all rigged and ready. She situated it on the hood of his car and looked through the lens to frame the shot.
And now she had to decide how she was going to position them together. Several things instantly came to mind, but of course they all required them to touch … intimately. Not inappropriately, but she was talking about romance novel covers here. Obviously he knew that when he’d suggested it, but did a forty-one-year-old man know anything about romance novels? She guessed there was a good possibility he had no idea.
“Ready?” Dean asked. Charlotte nodded and walked over to him.
“Sure, um, okay. Let’s just start with something basic. You stand closest to the front of the bike, and I’ll sort of just…” She grabbed his left hand and stepped into him before settling it on her hip. “Now I’ll grab onto you like this, and then you sort of cup my face with your right hand.”
“Like this?” His hand came up and caressed her face. It took everything inside of her not to curl into him like a cat. Instead she nodded and rested one hand on his chest and the other around his waist. His skin was slightly cool and dry to the touch. And yet the contact sent warmth surging through her body. She did what came naturally to her when things got awkward: She tried to lighten the mood.
“Your chest is so smooth.” She grinned up at him while she rubbed her hand over his perfectly formed pecs. “Like a baby’s bottom.”
Charlotte giggled when Dean scowled down at her. “Not funny at all.”
“It was very funny. Now don’t be grumpy. We need to be sexy.”
When she looked up his gaze was leveled down at her. He seemed to be analyzing things. “Should we look at each other?”
Was this not affecting him at all?
Charlotte nodded. “To start.”
Their eyes met once more and she felt his left hand pull her into his body even tighter, so much so that her thighs pressed into his and their chests touched. When he breathed out she felt the warmth on her cheek.
“I photograph a lot of couples, and it’s all about the gaze.” Her words were quiet, and Dean listened intently. “They look longingly into each other’s eyes. So let’s give that a try.”
Eyes meeting, they stared at one another for a long moment, and then out of nowhere Dean crossed his eyes hard, making Charlotte laugh out loud.
They were grinning at each other now, their faces a breath away. She pushed the remote and heard the shutter close and release.
“Okay, now, no more silliness. Just look at each other.”
Dean’s lips went tight and his eyes molten as they gazed on her lips. Her nose. “You’re pretty easy to stare at,” he whispered.
Charlotte couldn’t help the hint of a smile on her face. They were having fun. Acting. But she wanted to pretend this was real. Pretend that he was holding her, looking at her with hungry eyes because he wanted to. That his thumb slid over her cheek because he was desperate to know how her skin felt. Was he aching to drop his left hand lower and cup her bottom?
The rise and fall of his chest matched her own, and as she continued to push the button, his lips gave the tiniest of quirks, his eyes never leaving hers. Without the sunglasses, his stare was so intense it was nearly uncomfortable. Suddenly there was no more playfulness, only heat. The question was, how much of it was real?
After snapping about five more images, Charlotte forced herself to slide out of his arms. “I better see what those look like. Make sure the focus is good. It would suck if we did this all for nothing.”
Dean made a sound under his breath that implied that he agreed with her on that. But she couldn’t disagree more. There was nothing about that moment she regretted, usable photos or not. She’d have been fine being held by him all day long for absolutely no reason at all.