Page 1 of Stick to the Deal (Friendship Springs Romance #3)

The Naked Truth

A bead of sweat trickles down his neck. It grabs my attention as it slides across perfectly sculpted pecs and washboard abs.

Even naked, the heat of the lights can be intense.

You’d think he’d be used to it. I lose sight of the droplet as it falls behind the guitar he strategically holds in front of his groin.

“Ok, I think we got it. Go ahead and take a break and I’ll review the images,” I yell. Perspiration beads at my temple, I dry it with a towel and then guzzle from a nearby water bottle.

Turning my back on the giant lights, I check the monitors to make sure I’ve captured the image as I imagined it. I’ve photographed for hundreds of magazines and designers over the past decade, but this project is special. This is for Time magazine!

“Whoa, that’s fabulous.” Kenzo Star, now safely wrapped in a robe, stares at the monitor over my shoulder.

With his spiky, jet-black hair, tattoos, and guyliner he looks every inch the rock god he is.

Even in fluffy white terrycloth and bare feet.

“I have to admit I wasn’t sure about the whole naked with a guitar thing, but your vision is incredible. ”

My lips quirk. Yeah, I’m fucking good at what I do. “Well, the article is called The Naked Truth .“ I flip through a few more images, hitting keys to mark my favorites for editing later. “Just be glad you got to pose with a guitar. The female novelist with the tiny paperback was a real challenge. ”

A sexy chuckle rumbles through his chest. “I thought this was too on the nose or cheesy. You managed to make it look like art.”

“Thank you. Coming from a fellow artist, I appreciate it.” I smile at him over my shoulder.

Kenzo’s eyes rake over me with appreciation. “You are a fascinating lady, Miss Kato-Atherton. Have dinner with me.”

Turning towards him fully, I prop a hip on the table behind me. His eyes darken as they take in the long line of my body. At five-ten, I’m tall for a woman. And mostly leg. Even in a simple black tee and cotton shorts, I know I look good. “Tempting. But no.”

His brow raises in surprise. Probably doesn’t hear ‘no’ often. Especially from women. When his eyes snap to mine I see a challenge flicker, confirming my initial read. “Oh, come on. It’s only dinner. You do eat, don’t you? You’ve seen me naked. I want to find out what makes you tick.”

“I do eat. What I do not do is paparazzi, and you, sir, are practically infested with them.”

He hums agreement. “They are a bit like parasites, aren’t they? Ok, then answer me three questions here in the safety of your studio.”

“Not my studio, but go ahead.”

“Even more interesting. Where is your studio then? You must have one.”

“I go to my subjects, not the other way around. There’s a mini space in my apartment in Florida. If I’m not shooting at an event, I rent spaces like this for the assignment.”

“A bit of a nomad. I hear that. It gets old, though.” Creases appear by his eyes for a moment, then he blinks and the confident man returns. “Question two, where can I see more of your photos?”

“You’ve probably seen my work before and didn’t note the photographer.

Non-commissioned photos are on my website or Instagram.

” I pull a card out of my camera bag and hand it to him.

On the front it simply says ‘Nic Kato-Atherton, Photographer’ in bold script.

The back has my contact information and social handles.

“No gallery showings?” His inky brows pinch as he studies the simple card.

“Does that count as question three?” I smile at Kenzo. “No galleries. Too busy with work to curate a show.” The well-rehearsed excuse I use for my friends slips easily. “Go ahead, what’s your last question? ”

His lips spread in a full grin, showing straight white teeth. It’s a look that screams sex. There’s no doubt why the ladies throw their panties at him on stage. “How long are you in New York for?”

“Flattered, but not going to happen. Don’t need to catch your parasites. I’m only here until Monday, then flying out.”

“Oh no, while I would happily take you back to my hotel for dinner and breakfast,” his black eyes twinkle, “I can take a hint. I had more professional pursuits in mind. My new album is coming out and I haven’t liked a single photo the label has provided.

I want something grittier. More passionate.

” He points to the monitor beside me. “I think you’re exactly what I’ve been looking for.

Come to my show Saturday night. Take some photos.

If one works for the cover, you get credit and royalties.

If it doesn’t, I’ll still post them on my socials and tag you.

Either way, it’s a free rock concert with VIP access. ”

My teeth gnaw at my inner cheek as I debate his offer.

It is an amazing opportunity for more exposure.

Not that I’m hurting for work, I’ve had multiple shoots a day since I flew in almost a month ago.

I have been working too hard though, and a night out would be a nice break.

It’s not like I have other plans. Most nights, I’ve been grabbing a quick bite on my way back to the apartment.

Usually sitting at the bar with some smutty novel on my Kindle.

“Sure. You have a deal.” I hold my hand out for a shake.

His warm fingers surround mine, the calloused pads caress the sensitive skin of my wrist. Guess fuckboy just can’t turn it off.

It really is a shame about his paparazzi infestation.

I’m certain he’d be good for a night, or three.

Lord knows I haven’t had time for such distractions since I got to town, and back home is too small a pool for meaningless dalliances.

Sorry lady bits, but even this dry spell isn’t worth the unnecessary attention he draws.

I’d slip back into his dressing room with him for a quickie, but a chemist is arriving in an hour and I still don’t know how I’m going to hide her tits behind a microscope and test tubes.

More’s the pity.

After promising to courier over the passes and details, Kenzo heads off to change, closely trailed by his assistant. No rest for the wicked, I dive right back into setting up for the next shoot.