I’d known Jean Holloman all my life. She’d been a friend of my mother’s since they were teenagers, so she was a staple at holidays and birthday parties over the years. When I told my parents I wanted to be a photographer, they’d told me I needed an agent. And then my mom called Jean. She’d been my agent ever since.

I was used to Jean doing whatever she thought was best for me, often without telling me first, and it usually didn’t bother me, but this time, she’d gone too far.

I wasn’t a morning person, never had been, and she knew it, so when I saw her number on my caller ID at seven in the morning, I’d assumed it was something important.

“I hired an assistant.”

I frowned. Not important. Certainly not important enough to wake me up this fucking early. Jean said something that could have been a name, but I didn’t really care. “Good for you. Enjoy.”

“She’ll be at your studio at nine. Don’t be an ass.”

And then she hung up.

What the hell? I mentally cursed her for a couple more minutes, then got up to make myself some coffee since I knew I’d never get back to sleep, not when I was trying to figure out how to politely get out of the mess Jean had gotten me into. I didn’t need an assistant. I didn’t want one.

I’d been having a hard-enough time with my art lately. I didn’t need someone watching me fail.

When I heard the knock at the door at five minutes before nine, I knew it was her. Jean had told me her name, but I hadn’t been awake enough to register it. Not that it mattered. I’d give her a couple days, and then let Jean know that I was fine on my own.

I probably sounded like an ass when I told her to come in, but it wasn’t until she said her name that I really looked at her.

And wondered if my eyes were playing tricks on me, because there was no way Jean had hired a kid, and this girl didn’t look old enough to be out of high school. She was short, first off, barely five feet tall, and she had this mass of orange-red curls that went with her freckles. But then she grinned at me, and I found myself wanting to smile back. Her eyes were impossibly green, and they sparkled.

Like seriously fucking sparkled.

So I talked to her. Only a couple questions, but it was more than I’d planned on asking. There was something about her that piqued my interest. I didn’t let it take over though. Sine could be the best assistant in the world, and it wouldn’t change anything. I didn’t need her help. I liked my privacy as much as possible.

I left her in her office but kept thinking about her as I went back to the main room of my studio. I’d just finished up a series of landscape and nature photos, so they were up on my walls now, but I’d only shot them because I felt the need to take a break from my usual subjects. I’d been feeling burned out and had hoped that the change of pace would get me back on track.

It hadn’t.

I walked to the table where I kept all my equipment. I had a model coming in shortly, and I needed to start preparing, but I couldn’t focus.

I needed to decide on a theme, set up the appropriate props and backlighting...but the only thing I could picture in my mind’s eye was the redhead I could hear moving around a few yards away. She was pretty enough that most men would probably give her a smile if she walked by, but she wasn’t the sort of beautiful that would turn heads.

Still, the lines of her face had fascinated me, and I found myself thinking about the way shadows would play across her cheeks, her lips. How I’d position her so that the light would hit her. The way the sun would shine against her curls.

I frowned.

Sine wasn’t a model. She was too short, for one thing.

She’d dressed nice, but I got the feeling it was just because she wanted to appear proper, not because she was trying to impress me.

Which I found odd.

Women always wanted to impress me. I wasn’t bragging. There were the women who wanted me for my name and my family’s money, and then the women who were into me because of the whole artsy thing. They wanted me to hire them as models. But Sine had smiled without flirting and had showed no interest in anything beyond her tasks.

Okay, she’s only been here less than an hour, but I’d once had a pizza delivery girl give me her phone number after telling me that she’d been trying to break into modeling forever.

I appreciated it though, even if I didn’t understand it. If Sine had come in, hinting around to model or been flirty, I probably would’ve sent her away immediately, and had a firmer word with Jean about not needing an assistant. Since she’d been professional so far, maybe I should at least give Sine a chance before I told Jean I was right.

Sine.

I shook my head. How in the world did S-I-N-E rhyme with Tina?

“Alix, darling, so sorry I’m late.”

I didn’t have to look to know that my model had just walked in. Giselle Lucan had been posing for me for two weeks, but I hadn’t been satisfied with any of the shots. She was gorgeous, of course, with perfect skin and features to go with ebony hair and china blue eyes. She was a woman who didn’t merely turn heads. At twenty-two, she’d already been engaged three times to rich men who’d lavished her with gifts until she’d gotten bored with them. The fact that this was her reputation should have been my warning to steer clear of her, but I was doing a line of erotic photography, and Giselle oozed the sexuality I thought would sell.

If I could find my footing again.