His 24-Hour Wife. Rachel BaileyЧитать онлайн книгу.
again. And one thing she’d learned about Adam Hawke in the short time she’d known him was that he had iron willpower.
“It would be my pleasure,” he said, and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him as he lowered his head. This time it was no peck on the lips, it was more. So much more. Tempting, sensual and knowing. It was everything. She slid her hands along his wrists, past his elbows to grip his biceps through his shirt, partly to keep him in place and partly to hold herself up.
He trailed his lips to the corner of her mouth and then across to her ear. Whispering her name, he sent a shiver across her skin and bit gently on her earlobe. She turned her face, searching for and finding his kiss, feeling as if she’d found her home, as well.
They eased apart and Callie held on to his arms for an extra beat, her knees too wobbly to hold herself upright, her mind too dazed to think clearly.
“Adam,” she whispered, and in response a lazy smile spread across his face.
“That’s great,” Ralph said. “Just hang on a sec while I adjust some settings.”
Surprised out of the little world she’d been in with Adam, Callie took a step back. She hadn’t given one thought to acting during that kiss or its aftermath. She’d forgotten the photographer was there. Forgotten the rest of the world. In that moment, she couldn’t look at Adam. Didn’t want to know if he was looking down on her with pity for getting carried away, or if he was looking at something else, disinterested in her now that they’d performed for the camera. And if he was as off-kilter as she was? Well, some things were better not to know.
To give herself something to do, she turned to take in the picturesque markets around her, the beautiful displays of flowers of all kinds, all colors, and waited for her breathing to return to normal.
As she turned farther, she felt her dress catch on a bucket of lilies near her feet. Not wanting to hurt the flowers, she picked up her knee-length skirt and took a step back.
“Hang on,” Adam said, looking at her hemline. “You have pollen on your skirt.”
Callie sighed. Pollen was almost impossible to get out of fabric, and this was a good dress. She went to rub her thumb over it, but Adam held up a hand. “Wait. Rubbing it will only make it worse.”
He kneeled down in front of her and took the skirt from her hands, inspecting the stain. Then he retrieved something from his pocket.
“What’s that?” She tilted her head to try and see around him to what he held.
Holding it up for her to see, he gave her a quick smile. “Sticky tape. I always carry a roll when I walk through the markets.”
“Just normal, everyday tape?” she asked, skeptical about what he was doing, but prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.
He nodded. “Best thing for it.”
She watched as he ripped off a small strip and carefully laid it across the pollen before peeling it off. There was something strangely like a fairy tale about standing amongst the flowers in a pale gold dress with a handsome man on bended knee before her. The fact that he was doing something as practical as helping with her with a pollen mishap, instead of declaring undying love and offering her his kingdom, only made it all the more perfect. Adam Hawke stole her breath no matter what he was doing.
He stood and held the tape out to her. “All gone.”
His voice was low and the sound wouldn’t have reached the ears of those around them, which made the moment feel intimate despite the topic.
She laughed softly, unable to help herself—it just all seemed surreal. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“You learn a lot of tricks when you grow up around flowers.” His green gaze was smoldering, out of proportion to a discussion about flowers and pollen, but then again, whenever he was near, she felt her reactions were out of proportion, too.
She moistened her lips, and his gaze tracked the movement. The idea of losing herself in his kiss again pulled at her, drew her with a powerful intensity, but she wouldn’t forget the photographer again. She angled her head to where the others stood, watching them, and Adam gave her an almost imperceptible nod.
He straightened his spine, took her hand and turned to Ralph and Anna. “If we go a bit farther down this way, we can get some shots with the Midnight Lily in the background.”
Since the Midnight Lily had been developed by Liam and launched less than twelve months ago, it had become one of Hawke’s Blooms’ signature flowers. And that fact served to remind Callie that this was business to Adam—this session with the photographer and this entire plan. And that included the kiss they’d just shared.
She’d been in danger of being swept away in a moment that wasn’t even real.
She couldn’t afford for that to happen again. It would be too easy to fall in love with Adam Hawke, especially if she let herself believe he had feelings for her. That way led to heartache a thousand times worse than what she’d experienced when he wanted to call off their short-lived marriage. They were both just playing the roles they’d agreed to when they’d devised the plan.
Now all she had to do was make sure that she didn’t fall for her own lies.
Callie was just out of the shower when she heard her sister call out.
“It’s gone live,” Summer was saying from two rooms over.
“The interview?” Anticipation quickened her movements as she dried off, put on her silk robe and headed for the living room.
“Yep. I didn’t expect they’d run it for a few more days yet.”
Callie stood behind her sister and peeked over her shoulder at the laptop screen. All the breath left her body as she saw the page. She and Adam had never had a photo taken of themselves together before—their relationship was hardly significant enough to warrant that—and they’d never shared a bathroom to get ready to go out and caught sight of themselves side by side in the mirror, so she hadn’t seen an image of them as a couple reflected back at her. She’d failed to realize the startling effect it would have on her.
There were a few shots of her with Adam among the flowers, but the biggest photo, the one taking up about half the page, was Adam kneeling at her feet, the hem of her dress in his hand.
“That photo is great,” Summer said, pointing to the same one Callie was looking at. “The composition is genius. Was that arrangement the photographer’s idea or yours?”
“Ours,” Callie said faintly, still trying to take it all in.
“Good work. And your expression is perfect. You look totally smitten. All that practice paid off.”
Callie couldn’t reply; she just kept staring at the photo. Because her sister was right—the woman in that photo looked completely smitten by the man in front of her. And the scary part was she hadn’t been pretending. Neither of them had known their picture was being taken.
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