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I stared at the display on the table, at a loss as to where to start.
Impatient fingers drummed on the table, then, ‘Do you want my help?’ Jensen offered.
I hesitated, the idea of handing over such an important decision to him stopping me for a moment.
The drumming stopped. He lounged back and folded his arms as he watched me back. ‘Don’t
worry, Graciela. You’re still in charge. I’m merely lending you support.’
My heart fell at the mild sneer in his voice. And again, I wanted to throw caution to the wind,
rewind to the blissful moments on his cabin sofa. To the intense, transcendental hours spent before his fireplace. But I needed to stay in reality.Myreality, not the one Jensen believed I needed to face.
Anything besides strict professionalism would only be adding to the heartache I’d experienced in the last week.
If that meant letting this animosity ride out for the duration of our meeting, then so be it.
I nodded my consent. He didn’t move immediately. His arms remained folded, his piercing gaze
narrowed at me for a stomach-tingling stretch.
Then, lips firmed in a line of displeasure, he went to work, sorting out forty pictures with jaw-
dropping efficiency. ‘I think these will work for what you have in mind. They have an element of each topic you’re discussing, and, together with the interactive video in the digital version, I think your message will be heard.’
I stared down at the pictures he’d chosen, added another ten of my own, and, refining down again,
halved the photos and rearranged them in the order I envisaged them laid out in the magazine.
We both stepped back and admired the mock-up, and he nodded. ‘That’s even better.’
I wanted to preen at his compliment, but I couldn’t even give myself that little leeway. ‘I’ll leave them there for now, and come back to it in a while. See it with fresh eyes.’
He nodded. ‘Good idea. You don’t want to saturate your senses before you make a decision.’
I turned to the rest of the images, totalling over eight hundred. ‘It seems a shame for all of these to go to waste.’
‘They’re yours. Do with them as you will.’
Again there was a distinct timbre in his voice that caught me on the raw. I looked over and he was
staring straight at me.
Hunger tore through me. I licked my lips and his eyes darkened, his gaze rapt on my gliding tongue.
Face tight, he took a half-step closer. I averted my gaze from him, back to the photos, terrified of the wild leap of my heart. ‘I can make a coffee-table book, donate the proceeds to charities in Alaska?’
I felt his gaze linger on me for a few seconds more before he answered. ‘You have enough here for
two books, easily. Even make it an annual thing.’
The idea thrilled me, but even more was the thought of a possible future collaboration with Jensen.
Terrified of the frenzied leap of my senses, I focused on the pictures, killing the idea of an extended connection with Jensen. There wouldn’t be a different outcome in the future. I would always
disappoint and fall short.
He joined me, handing me images on one subject, then the other. Within a short time, I had over