Meant For Her

She came to a halt, facing him across the few feet between their balconies. After studying his face for a moment, the tension in her shoulders eased.

  “Yes, he’s a vet. He said he’d probably prescribe some anti-inflammatories tomorrow after he examines Beck in the office. For right now, we’re supposed to apply cold packs to the sprained paw for fifteen to thirty minutes a few times a day.”

  “Let me guess. You just applied a cold pack before I got here.”

  She shrugged. “I knew you’d be tired.”

  He knew she was tired, too. He saw it in her eyes. But she’d done it anyway.

  They stared at each other for a moment without talking. Crickets chirped in the distance. A light, warm breeze blew a few stray curls across her face, prompting her to reach up and brush them away. The moon bathed her in light, giving him a terrific view of her body beneath the thin fabric of her sleepwear.

  For the first time in too long, desire flared to life within him. It wasn’t a subtle thing…oh, no. It had him considering the distance between the balconies with something more than just idle curiosity.

  “Thank you, Sierra,” he said.

  “You’re welcome, Evan.”

  His newfound stirrings weren’t going away, he realized. His jeans had gotten uncomfortably tight. Standing up to help alleviate the pressure, he looked back into his apartment, then again at her.

  “I’d invite you over for a drink, but I don’t have anything to offer at the moment.”

  She smiled. “A rain check, then. Good night, Evan.”

  He watched her go back into her apartment. Something about the way she had smiled made him frown in thought. Turning, he went back inside, locking the door behind him. He headed straight for the fridge.

  “Damn it,” he murmured, seeing his suspicion had been right.

  There in front of him were two more six packs and all the fresh essentials he would need to get him through until the next road trip. Shaking his head, he reached in and grabbed a beer before heading to check on the dogs.

  He froze halfway through his family room. Slowly turning his head to his left, he looked at the large wall that had been an unadorned cream color when he left. Now, it was a shade of blue that made him think of churning oceans. He hadn’t noticed the change earlier in his rush to see what had happened to Beck and then to confront Sierra.

  Two large, framed prints hung over the love seat positioned against the wall. One of the pictures featured Miller holding a glove in his mouth, a baseball poised precariously in the pocket as though he’d just made a great catch. The other was a shot taken from behind of a kid wearing an oversized Dorsey jersey and a backwards Atlanta ball cap with one arm slung around Beck, his head tipped to touch the dog’s. In the foreground, a bat and ball rested on striking green grass.

  Only when Miller emerged from his bedroom to nudge his hand did Evan look away from the pictures. He blinked, his eyes sore from exhaustion and staring for so long. He reached down to pet Miller and took a sip of his forgotten beer. It was surprisingly warm, telling him he’d been standing there for longer than he’d thought.

  Frowning, he set his beer aside and stepped onto the loveseat to take down the photographs. There was a reason he didn’t hang pictures or put out mementos. He didn’t want such things to tie him down to a place, damn it. She couldn’t force him into anything.

  His hands gripped the frame around Beck’s picture. Then he hesitated.

  He looked toward his bedroom, where Beck rested as comfortably as he could thanks to Sierra. He thought of how she’d checked on the dogs and brought them over to spend the night with her, never intending to tell him.

  Releasing the picture, he straightened it until it balanced with Miller’s. Then he picked up his beer and carried it into the bedroom, ready to shower and get some sleep.

  Chapter 13

  “That’s it, baby. Oh, yeah. Just like that.”

  Sierra lay on the hard floor surrounding one of the sets in Z Studios. Her camera was focused up on the stage where a basketball player was in the process of modeling some popular athletic shoes. Her job as a second shooter was to capture atypical angles and different aspects of light. She loved having the chance to look at shoots in a different way than Bastian did. It allowed her to come up with some unique ideas.

  “Oh, that’s good. Yes. Do more of that.”

  Bastian’s guidance often sounded like sex talk to her, but she chalked that up to him being extremely attractive and sensual. He was close to six feet, five inches tall and nicely built. His ebony skin shone under the hot photography lighting, much of it revealed by his shorts and form-fitting tank top. He’d recently traded in his trademark dreads for a maroon faux-hawk, which served to heighten the impact of his light brown eyes. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d been happily married since the age of twenty, Sierra might have made a play for him once upon a time.

  Now, however, he was her mentor. Most of what she knew about photography, she’d learned from him. He was one of the instructors at the Callanwolde Fine Arts Center, the place she’d gone to learn more about photography. What had started as a hobby and passion when she was in high school quickly blossomed into a career.

  She was the first to admit that she was damn lucky. Her wealthy and influential aunt and uncle had helped her and her older sister, Lane, pursue their dreams. Not that her parents hadn’t been willing to support them. They had. But the financial responsibility had really fallen on Aunt Caroline and Uncle Mike. They’d never made it seem like a burden, though, always happy to do what they could.

  When she’d asked her aunt for money to take a photography class five years ago, her aunt hadn’t thought twice about it. Sierra ended up in Bastian’s Basic Photography class at the center. He’d recognized some talent in her assignments and the rest was history.

  “Bounce a little more, Dubré,” Bastian coached the enormous center. “Perfect. All right, let’s take a break.”

  Sierra breathed a small sigh of relief. Her shoulders and back were killing her. She’d been on the ground for almost two hours, aiming her camera up. It felt like the crick in her neck had taken up permanent residence.

  Bastian walked over to a folding card table at the back of the set and grabbed a bottle of water. Before Sierra could approach him, his assistant, Camille, hurried up to him. Not wanting to interrupt, Sierra held back and focused on stretching her neck and shoulders. Curious, though, she studied the interaction.

  Camille Handley was an energetic twenty-one-year-old with something to prove. She’d been with Z Studios for a little over six months. Sierra’s less-than-flattering opinion of her hadn’t been formed without some obvious clues.

  The first time they’d met, Sierra had noticed that Camille was shorter than her, probably only about five-foot four. Since then, Camille had worn at least four-inch high heels so she could be taller than Sierra and most of the other female photographers.

  While Camille’s natural hair color was a pretty shade of brown, she’d gone blonde a few weeks ago. In and of itself, that hadn’t raised any red flags for Sierra. But when Camille started curling her hair every day and dyed a few pieces in the front a different color, she’d known something was up. It was like she was in the middle of a scene from the old movie Single White Female.

  Since making that connection, Sierra had kept her distance from Camille. Clearly, the other woman had some identity issues she needed to work through. There was no sense aggravating them.

  “Hey, Short Stuff,” Bastian called out, waving Sierra over.

  Judging by Camille’s expression, she hadn’t finished communicating whatever she’d wanted to say before Bastian interrupted her. While that didn’t surprise Sierra, who understood the almost manic mindset of an artist in the moment, she could see Camille didn’t get it.

  “Hey, boss,” Sierra said as she walked up. “Great shoot.”

  “We’re done for now, Camille,” Bastian said. “Thanks.”

  After glaring in Sierra
’s direction, Camille stormed off with a click of her heels. Sierra tried to smile in her direction, knowing she needed Camille in a decent mood to collect Zoe’s paycheck. It was a wasted effort.

  “So, what did you think?” Bastian asked.

  Forcing herself to focus, she replied, “I got the shot.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. Check this out.”

  She scrolled through the digital images on her camera until she came across the one she felt would make the ad. It highlighted the shoes from the bottom up, making the athlete wearing them appear almost god-like.

  “Here.”

  He took her camera from her to examine the picture she’d flagged. After only a couple of seconds, he shook his head.

  “Damn, girl. How do you do it?”

  Grinning, she took her camera back and said, “I have the very best mentor.”

  He laughed. “When you first started here, the shots we used were mine at least ninety-nine percent of the time. Now, I’d say we’re fifty-fifty.”

  “Who’s keeping count?”

  “You know I am,” he said, growing more serious. “Sierra, Z Studios has been doing really well over the past couple of years. You know that as well as anyone. I really wish you’d reconsider my offer to partner with me. I’d make it worth your while.”

  As always, his offer flattered her. He had all but begged her several times to come on board as a partner. The thing was, though, she liked having the flexibility to make her own schedule. It appealed to her that she didn’t always know what the day would bring. Maybe she’d be painting a rental home in College Park. Maybe she’d be taking pictures of a family in Buckhead. Maybe she’d be showing an apartment to a sexy ballplayer from Australia.

  Bastian had offered to let her arrange the schedule that worked best for her, but she knew how it worked. For all of the creativity involved, the Z Studio shoots were still limited by four walls and props.

  She wanted no limits.

  “I haven’t said no yet, Bastian,” she said.

  “But you haven’t said yes.”

  “Not yet,” she agreed with a smile.

  Sighing, he put one of his massive arms around her. “Okay, okay. I get it. You’re waiting for a sign from the universe that it’s meant for you to be working here."

  He knew her well. “That probably wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Yeah, yeah. All right. Feel free to upload your images and then head out. We definitely got our shot.”

  “You got it.” She walked over to her camera bag and picked it up. Before she headed to Bastian’s office, she asked, “How’s Camille working out for you, by the way?”

  Shrugging, he swallowed some more water. “Okay. She keeps hounding me to let her in on a shoot.”

  Something clicked for Sierra. “Well, maybe you should let her. If she’s passionate about it, she could end up being a nice asset for you.”

  His smiled flashed. “Always looking out for others. I’ll think about it.”

  Nodding, Sierra headed to his office. Camille wasn’t sitting at her desk outside the office door, so she let herself in and inserted her memory card into Bastian’s computer. It didn’t take long to save the files. By the time she finished, Camille was back at her desk.

  “Hi, Camille,” she said as she emerged from the office.

  The assistant jerked and closed whatever she’d had up on her computer screen. Her eyes narrowed when she looked at Sierra.

  “What are you doing in Bastian’s office?” she demanded.

  Puzzled by her tone, Sierra shrugged. “Offloading pics from the shoot, like usual.”

  “Wow. You don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

  Where in the world was this coming from? Was Sierra’s tone offensive to the other woman? Did she just have an enormous chip on her shoulder? In any case, this kind of interaction couldn’t continue. It wasn’t fostering a positive work environment for either of them.

  “Look, Camille, I’m not sure how we got off on the wrong foot, but I like you. I think you’re great at what you do, and you’ve got lots of potential to do other things around here. I’m not your enemy or your competition.”

  Camille’s glower eased into a look of uncertainty. She looked Sierra up and down as though gauging her level of sincerity.

  “I just spoke with Bastian, and he mentioned that you’re interested in doing some shooting,” she continued. When she saw Camille’s chin lift, she smiled. “I think it’s a great idea. There will be some big shoots coming up, and I think you should sit in on them to get a feel for how we do things, maybe snag a few shots.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Really? Do you think I could sit in on the Brinkman shoot?”

  Brinkman was the largest account for Z Studios. Bastian took every one of their product shoots deadly seriously, and usually closed them to only minimal personnel. Sierra hated to be the bearer of bad news, but she had to be honest.

  “That’s up to Bastian, but he’s very particular about that account. I don’t know how he’ll feel about bringing you in on that one just yet. But once you prove yourself, I’m sure he’ll be more open to that.”

  Camille’s dark eyes flashed, but she shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “Look, while I’ve got you, I wanted to see if I could pick up the paycheck for Zoe Radcliffe.”

  She watched Camille open her mouth on a snarl, then pause. After a moment of consideration, she shrugged again.

  “Sure,” she said. “Next time, though, tell her to request it herself.”

  Sierra was sure Zoe had, but didn’t comment. After all, Camille didn’t bite her head off for once.

  Progress was progress.

  Chapter 14

  It was after one o’clock when she got home from the shoot. Leo was as excited as usual to see her, so she sat with him for a few minutes to give him a proper greeting. She never got tired of having a friend who acted like his entire day had been made just because she came home.

  She knew he was ready for his afternoon walk, but she wanted to check on Beck first. She had gotten Evan’s cell number before she met with his moving company in case there were any issues, so she tried calling it now. When it rolled to voicemail, she clicked off and decided she’d stop over instead.

  Her T-shirt and shorts had gotten dirty while she was rolling around on the ground at the studio, so she changed into a knee-length teal sundress and matching sandals. Since it was approaching the hottest part of the day, she gathered her hair into a short braid to get it off her neck.

  Considering herself ready, she told Leo she’d be right back and headed down the hall. She knocked on Evan’s door. The dogs started barking, so they weren’t out at the vet or on a walk. When a minute passed and Evan didn’t answer the door, she figured he’d gone out. Pulling out her key, she snuck just inside the threshold and closed the door behind her. She knelt to say hi to a giddy Miller, then turned her attention to Beck.

  Evan had moved Beck’s bed into the family room, probably so he could be out where Evan was during the day. The dog was still in the bed, but his tail was going crazy.

  “You poor thing,” she said, hurrying over to him. “Did you go to the doctor today, big guy?”

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Gasping, she jumped to her feet. Evan stood in the doorway to his room wearing nothing but a towel. He’d been in the shower and must not have heard her knock.

  Oh, he was so delectable.

  “Well, it would seem I’m making a very strong case for my termination as property manager.”

  He just stared at her. She couldn’t read much in his dark blue eyes, but imagined he was pretty pissed over the invasion of privacy. She could hardly blame him. Hell, he should probably press charges.

  If he did, she’d go to jail clapping in celebration just for getting the chance to see him like this.

  “I’m sorry, Evan. I wanted to check on Beck. You didn’t answer your phone or the door, so—”

  “So you let
yourself in?”

  Wincing, she realized that he must think she was crazy. How would she feel if some guy she barely knew was entering her apartment whenever he felt like it? Sure, she’d sensed the connection with him right away and knew what it meant, but most people weren’t like her. She really hadn’t been using her best judgment when it came to dealing with Evan and her feelings for him, she silently acknowledged.

  “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t do it again.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. It was all she could do to keep her eyes on his face. She’d already seen the black tattoo on the inside of his left forearm that read Strength, but she hadn’t seen his others yet. Across his pecs was a longer tattoo, some sentence or phrase that she couldn’t read from where she stood. He had another one on his right bicep, high enough to be covered by a sleeve whenever he wore a shirt.

  She wanted to run up to him and touch and examine every inch of his tanned skin, especially where his spectacular abs disappeared into a V where his towel cut him off. If she didn’t already look like a whacked out, creepy stalker, that would be sure to do the trick.

  After a long moment, he said, “It’s not broken.”

  Relief flooded through her, both because he apparently wasn’t filing charges and because Beck’s paw was only sprained. She went back down to her knees to pet him some more.

  “I’m so glad to hear it. Did Dr. Paulk give you the anti-inflammatories?”

  Evan made a face. “Yeah. When I tried to give one to Beck, he puked on me.”

  She made a sound of sympathy and kissed the top of Beck’s head. “Poor thing. You’re not feeling well at all, are you, big guy?”

  “You know, I’m the one who got puked on,” Evan grumbled.

  That was way too good a segue to pass up. Getting to her feet, she slowly walked over to him. His eyebrow lifted.

  “Poor, Evan,” she said, her eyes on his as she stopped in front of him. “You’ve had a rough couple of days, haven’t you, big guy?”

  “You petted Beck,” he reminded her.