“Vegetarian?”

“Not at all. I love meat—I mean—I eat…meat…all the time.” Dear lord. The brief feeling of relaxation vanished instantly and I was back to tripping over my words like a teenager.

Ethan laughed into the phone. “So a good selection of meats and Sheppy’s on the menu will do it for you?”

“Hey, I never said I would go out with you.” I closed my eyes.

“But you will.” His voice did something to me. Even through the phone, without sense of sight, he compelled me to want to agree just to see him again. To look at him again. To smell him again.

I groaned into the phone. “You are killing me here, Ethan.”

“No,” he chuckled softly, “we’ve already established that I’m not a serial killer, remember?”

“So you claim, Mr. Blackstone, but know that if you do kill me, you’ll be number one on the suspect list.”

He laughed at that and the sound of him made me smile. “So you’ve been talking about me to your friends then?”

“Maybe I keep a secret diary and wrote about you. The cops will find it when they search my flat for clues.”

“Miss Bennett has quite the flair for the dramatic. Did she take acting lessons in school?”

“No. She just watched a lot of episodes of CSI.”

“Okay, I am getting the whole picture now. Meat, Sheppy’s and Crime & Investigation Network. A nice eclectic mix you’ve got going for you…among other things,” he said the last part very softly, the suggestion in the words hitting me directly between my legs. “So where do I collect you tomorrow after your photo shoot?”

“It’s a studio shoot, so the Lorenzo Agency, tenth floor of the Shires Building.”

“I’ll find you, Brynne. Send me a text when you’re finished and I’ll be there. Goodnight.” His voice changed, sounding more abrupt.

I heard a click and then the dial tone, realizing that Ethan had ended the call this time. Payback for earlier? Maybe. But as I got into my bed and rehashed our conversation in the dark, I became conscious of the fact he’d gotten his way again. I had a date with Ethan tomorrow night, and I’d never really agreed to go.

I sent the text to Ethan as Marco looked through the images. I’d worked with Marco one other time and I liked him a lot. Based in Milan, he liked classic poses reminiscent of the thirties and forties.

“You are magnificent in these, bella,” Marco told me with that beautiful Italian purr, “the camera is your friend.”

“It was nice. Thank you, Marco.”

I still had to get ready and headed for the dressing room. I tried not to fuss over my appearance but Ethan was so damned handsome. I was just…me. I knew I had a decent figure. I kept it that way, and my body was my livelihood at the moment so I took care of myself. And I’d had plenty of attention from boys growing up. Too much attention. But I wasn’t beautiful. I had long, straight, light brown hair, nothing special. My eyes were probably the most unique thing about me. The color was odd—sort of a mixture of brown, grey, blue and green. I’d never known what to put on my driver’s license back home. I went with…brown.

I opened my bag and slipped off my robe. Being it was nearly summer, and I assumed tonight would be casual at the end of a work day, I’d chosen clothes that would be forgiving of the time spent in a sports duffle—flax linen drawstring pants, a black, silky sleeveless top, and black leather flats. I slung my favorite green cardigan over my shoulders and gave some attention to the rest of me. I brushed my hair out and went with a pony tail wrapped with a strand of hair around the elastic. Next, makeup, and it wouldn’t take long. I rarely use much more than mascara and blush. Some lip gloss and a spray of my perfume finished me. Good to go, Brynne.

I pushed the call button at the elevators and waited. Ethan didn’t say where to meet exactly and I figured the lobby would be fine. He seemed to know the city like the back of his hand.

Marco walked up and gave me a hug in farewell. He was a demonstrative guy, always hugging and kissing twice on the cheek in that Euro way that made it acceptable for him—and made the American me a sucker for it. I can admit to being fully charmed by the kind of courtly behavior rarely displayed in my native land.

I hugged him back and offered my cheek. Marco pressed his lips to my jaw right as the elevator doors opened and Ethan stepped out glaring, his beautiful face set in a hard line.

I stumbled back from Marco’s embrace and felt Ethan’s hands catch me, latching onto my waist. “Brynne, darling, here you are.” Ethan drew his arms up from my waist to wrap loosely around my shoulders, effectively pulling me away from Marco and right up against the front of his body. His very hard and muscled body. I could feel Ethan’s stare on Marco and knew I needed to do something before the situation got more awkward than it already was. “Introduce us, Brynne,” he said against my ear, the brush of his goatee pricking my jaw and making my knees weak.

“Ethan Blackstone, Marco Carvaletti, my—my photographer today.” Shit! Did I really sound that fluttery and weak? I swear I was in deep trouble with this man. He got to me in a way I found so unnerving yet arousing at the same time; a tantalizing mixture screaming Danger! in my head.

Ethan held out his hand and offered a greeting to the tall Italian with the bemused expression at our situation. “How did my girl do today, Mr. Carvaletti?” Ethan drawled in his elegant voice.

Marco gave just the hint of a smile. “Brynne does her job to perfection, Mr. Blackstone. Always.” The elevator dinged again and Marco stuck his arm out to hold it. “Are you going down?” Marco asked, stepping inside.

“Eventually. Not just yet,” Ethan answered, settling a hand on both of my upper arms and holding me firm. We faced the elevator doors about to close. Eventually? I did not miss the suggestion in that comment. The image of his beautiful black hair moving slowly on his bobbing head between my legs was more than my libido could bear at the moment.

“Bye, Marco, thank you for the booking!” I managed to sputter, lifting a hand in a wave.

“Thank you, bella, the pictures are gorgeous as usual.” Marco kissed two fingers and blew them at me as the elevator doors closed on him, leaving me securely in Ethan’s grip and totally alone with the man who had an erection pressed against my ass and the promise of knowing exactly how to use it.

“What are you doing!” I spat, spinning out of his hands. “What’s with the my girl and the territorial behavior, Ethan?” I turned to his beautiful face very aware that I was breathing heavy and with every inhale drawing more of his delicious scent inside me.