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skincare products. “He breaks out with anything oil-based. I’m having him try this new organic line. It’s fucking fabulous.”
    The makeup artist accepted the bottles and added them to the heap of products covering her workstation. Her expression was aloof—very much, Let me do my damn job . Gunnar smiled sweetly and sauntered away.
    I left Ben and Madeline to check on the set. I knew Fiona would need a chair brought out to watch from, if those pumps were any indication. After dragging a stool outside for her, everything was ready.
    With only two models in the shoot day, the atmosphere seemed low key and low stress. Once Ben and Madeline had finished with makeup and hair, they talked with the photographer, getting comfortable with the backdrop and each other. Both models looked impeccable. Madeline’s hair floated across her shoulders in a huge, wavy mass of curls, and her makeup appeared dewy and fresh with a pop of bright fuchsia lip stain. I couldn’t even tell that Ben wore any makeup—probably the point—because he just looked beyond gorgeous. His hair had been smoothed down, parted to one side, and slicked with pomade. The style worked quite well for him. And the growing moisture in my panties was a clear indication of how well. All the clothes seemed to hang off their bodies in a simply stunning way. Ben exuded cool sophistication and classic handsomeness in his tailored suit. The man just oozed sexy .
    “He’s almost too pretty, huh?”
    I hadn’t noticed Gunnar slide up beside me. “Oh, what?”
    His eyes tracked Ben’s movements. “Don’t you dare pretend you didn’t notice.” His lips puckered in the most mocking way.
    “Yeah, he’s attractive; of course he is,” I stammered.
    Gunnar sighed dramatically. “Don’t let those good looks fool you. That boy would be a hot mess without me, Fiona, and a pile of pills.”
    I had no idea what to make of his pill comment, but now wasn’t the time to ask because Fiona was on a rampage, complaining loudly that Ben’s shoes didn’t fit. He needed a 12 and they’d brought an 11. I rushed to calm the situation, but before I could intervene Ben was at her side, speaking in hushed tones to soothe her.
    He’d stuffed his feet into the shoes and pleaded with her, his arms out to his sides. “See. I’ll survive for an hour.”
    Apparently mollified, Fiona merely nodded, and I released a deep exhale.
    The photo shoot began, and watching Ben work was wonderful. He made it look so easy. It was clear that both he and Madeline were experienced professionals. They worked well together, posing, moving against each other to create interesting angles as the photographer clicked away.
    I’d never get tired of looking at him. My body exploded as awareness, endorphins, and desire flooded my system. Remembering our secret conversation last night made it even hotter. His intense gaze landed on mine as he continued to pose for the photographer, and I swear, the look in his smoldering gaze was pure sex. Good Lord, I was going to need to change my panties soon. Note to self: At the next photo shoot, pack Fiona flats and an extra pair of panties for me.
    When the shoot wrapped, Madeline immediately disappeared with her handler, and Ben and Fiona wandered back into the dressing area, seemingly in the middle of an intense conversation. I wondered what they could be discussing that was so serious, since his performance today seemed impeccable.
    I busied myself packing everything up and even helped the photographer carry equipment to his car, but I could linger for only so long. Not to mention I was beginning to feel like an idiot for thinking that Ben and I actually shared something the previous night. He’d been bored, tired, drunk, or jetlagged—who knows, maybe all of the above. I hated how desperate I was to get another look at him and made myself move on. Big-girl panties, Em.
    I decided to walk back rather than take the Metro so that I could find a cute little