Skin (30 page)

“For someone who has an artistic eye, you sure sell yourself short,” Reese said.

“What are you saying?”

“Fishing for a compliment?”

“No, I just don’t understand what you meant by that comment.”

“Your look. It’s exotic, you remind me of a young Sophia Loren.”

She raised a brow. He nodded. “Everything about you is lush. Your lips, your eyes.” He grinned. “Your ass.”

When she opened her mouth to respond he cut her off. “Your tits. You have great tits, Frankie.”

She felt a flush scroll from her breast to her forehead. “Stop it.”

“Can’t take a compliment?”

She shrugged. “No, it’s not that.”

“Then what?”

She shrugged again. “I was an early bloomer. By the sixth grade I was in a D cup, and well, I was teased. My father insisted I wear baggy clothes and told me God was testing me.”

“Testing you how?”

“By giving me so much, it was up to me to keep the boys away.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It was his way of keeping me chaste. Catholic guilt is strong voodoo. If planted properly and nurtured, it can screw you up for life.”

Reese grinned. “I can see by the way you dress you got over the guilt.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You dress to accentuate what you have.”

“I don’t flaunt it.”

His eyebrow quirked. “If you say so.”

“I don’t!”

“Who are you trying to convince?”

“I’m not trying to convince anyone, it’s the truth. Besides, you go around looking like you just walked out of
GQ
. How do you afford that on a cop’s salary?”

Reese shook his head. “Nice try. It’s my job to look good. I’m a highly paid professional, and I get lots of designers who pay me to wear their threads.”

“Yeah, Wrangler and Levi’s.”

“I just haven’t shown all my stuff.”

“I think I’ve seen just about all your stuff.”

“You like it?”

“It’s okay.”

“Just okay?” His brow quirked again.

“Okay, your cock is
lush.”

He laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment, although I can tell you didn’t. I meant you’re lush in the best of ways.”

“Sure. A nice way to say I’m fat.”

“Fat isn’t a word I’d use to describe you.”

“No, lush.” She urged Rosie to pick up the pace. “I’ve never been the tall, slender type. I look at pasta and it sticks to my thighs.”

“You have great thighs.”

“Hmm, well, thanks, but I see you more with the tall, skinny blonde types. Like your friend, Amy.”

“Angie. And she definitely has her assets.”

Frankie’s ire rose. “Maybe I’ll get a few shots of the two of you. She’ll translate well.”

“What about us?” His voice dropped, and although they were coming upon a rather swift running stream, he spoke low. The deep timbre of his voice stroked her as effectively as his hand.

She caught his meaning immediately.

“I haven’t forgotten, but out here we don’t exactly have privacy.”

“I can make her go away. And Midas said he was going over to his sister’s for dinner. She’s in Jackson, a good hour’s drive. How about the barn later tonight?”

The thought sent waves of warmth through her. She smiled. “I guess we’ll play it by ear, then.”

“Yeah, see what comes up.”

Before Frankie could make a snide comeback, they entered a wide clearing. “This is beautiful,” Frankie gasped.

Several huge oaks made up a natural umbrella over a small inlet of the stream. Sunlight glistened like dancing jewels off the clear blue water. As she drank in the soothing landscape, Frankie realized the trees stood on the other side of the stream, which looked less than lazy. She peered up and down but didn’t see a bridge. “Is it safe?”

When Reese failed to answer, she turned in the saddle to ask him again. He sat ramrod stiff, his eyes far away but focused. A small twitch worked his left jaw.

“Reese, what’s wrong?”

His skin paled and he pulled the reins back. Zorro stomped, then backed up. “This is a bad spot.”

He turned Zorro and urged him into a canter that quickly turned into a wild gallop. Frankie chased after him for a few minutes, then slowed. The stallion’s stride far outpaced the mare’s.

He disappeared over a hill. She pushed down her worry. But when she crested the hill she found the meadow below empty, and her breath shortened. Where was he?

A dark form crested another hill past the meadow and her breath gushed out in relief. At least he was going in a straight line. She continued after him at a leisurely canter. His mood changes since they arrived in Wyoming confused her. She wished he would open up and tell her what bothered him. Instead, he had become more morose.

When she finally caught up to him, Zorro stood tied to a tree and Reese lounged against a thick oak, chewing a piece of grass.

She liked the setting, but not the company. “What’s bugging you?” she asked.

Perspiration glistened on his face. Before he could answer, she’d switched gears, seeing him through the mind of a camera as well as of a woman. “Do some jumping jacks to keep your skin all slick like it is. When I tell you, take your shirt off.”

She hurried to set up her camera. When Reese didn’t do what she asked, she frowned. “C’mon, Reese, I want the hot, sultry look. You and Zorro. C’mon, these shots will be incredible.”

He scowled. Instead of doing jumping jacks, he pulled a blanket out of a saddlebag, sat down on it, and did a few sit-ups. She smiled. “That’ll work.”

Once he slicked up, she told him to stop. “I want you like you were when I rode up, against the tree, the grass in your mouth. Yep, just like that.” She reached down and unbuttoned his shirt a few buttons, her fingertips lingering on his sultry skin. “Perfect.”

She stood back, focused, and began her shoot.

After several shots she lowered her camera. “Reese, I need you to go someplace else. This isn’t working.”

He stood and shrugged. “Where?”

“Not physically, emotionally. Whatever is on your mind is coming through in your eyes.”

His features tightened.

Damn. She knew he’d react like that but she had to try. “Sometimes it helps to talk about things.”

“Like you do?”

She put her hand on her hip. “Don’t turn this around.”

“Why not? You want something from me you’re unwilling to give yourself.”

“The difference is my stuff is personal and has nothing to do with our contract. Something is obviously bugging you and until you deal with it or go somewhere else in your head, it’s affecting my shoot, which affects my bottom line.”

“I’m not a trained monkey, I can’t turn on and off for you.”

“You are a trained monkey. We have a contract, and I need you to perform,
now.”
The minute she said the words she regretted them. She knew she was pushing him away, and she didn’t understand why.

He spit the grass from his mouth and buttoned up his shirt. “Well, lady, this monkey is done for the day.” He strode past her.

She grabbed his arm. “You can’t do this! I have deadlines.” Again she knew her words were wrong, but damn it, he couldn’t just stop now.

He spun her around and grabbed her by the forearms. “Is that all this is to you? A means to an end, a deadline?”

“Skin
is my priority.”

“What if I quit?”

She felt the blood drain to her feet. “You wouldn’t do that. We have a contract.” She swallowed hard and reached out to him.

He pushed her arms away, turned his back to her, and strode back to Zorro. “So sue me.”

Every organ inside her hardened. She put the camera down on the ground and ran after him. She had nothing but
Skin
— he was her only hope to hang on to it. “Reese! You can’t quit! Everything hinges on this shoot.”

He untied the reins, his expression grim. “Find another monkey.”

“Don’t do this to me!”

He turned, his eyes narrow. “I’m done, Frankie.”

“Fine, Reese. Fine. Running away from me isn’t going to change what you’re running away from here.” She went back to pick up her camera. She’d done it again, allowed a man to fuck up everything when the stakes would make or break her. She was at the edge, looking down into a black hole that had become her life, ready to throw her hands up and say to hell with the world. Sadness for them both engulfed her. “I never had you pegged for a coward.”

Without another word she carefully packed her camera. She glanced back at Reese. He stood at the side of his horse, staring angrily at her.

“I’m going home,” she announced. She couldn’t stay here with him. Her father’s words,
hormone-induced stupidity,
rang in her ears. She’d done it again. Fool that she was.

“You can’t go home.”

She gathered the reins and turned her back to him to mount her horse. “I can and I will.”

For the first time since she was a little girl, Frankie felt the uncontrollable urge to cry, to cry in frustration, to cry for herself. She’d worked so hard for this, and now when her entire world was turned upside down and inside out, the one person who she had put a little faith in, the one who had protected her, saved her life, was in effect taking it. But not in one fell swoop; he was killing her slowly. She could get another model, but it wouldn’t be the same. And really, could she just walk back into her office and feel safe?

She needed to call Unk, she needed his protection. She needed to confront Anthony. She shivered. She needed to find her father’s will.

She felt Reese behind her. “If you leave, you die.” His voice was softer. She felt the change in him but was afraid to hope.

She turned around and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I can’t control fate, Reese. If my fate is to die at twenty-eight, then so be it.”

“Now who’s the quitter?”

“Don’t talk to me about quitting. It’s obvious from what little I’ve heard since I came here that you quit on your family fifteen years ago.”

His jaw stiffened. “Shut up.”

“Shut up?” Emotion poured through her like a burst dam. “You bring me to God knows where, tell me I can’t go home, then break a legal contract that all but breaks me? I’m not going to shut up!” She balled her fists and punched him in the right pectoral. She reared back for another hit, but Reese grabbed her fist and yanked her hard against him.

His mouth swooped down on hers. She slammed her palms against his chest and pushed away from him. “No. Not this time. You want sex, go get it from your blonde girlfriend. I’m done with you!”

She couldn’t remember being so angry at anyone in her life. She’d been humiliated by Sean. She’d been frustrated by her father, and Anthony would make a nun swear, but never had she felt so frustrated and furious and hurt at a single individual as she did right now at Reese. She told herself it was because he was backing out, leaving her with her career in ruins, but she knew in her heart it was more than that. She’d come to trust him. He was her self-appointed protector, and now she felt betrayed.

She turned to mount Rosie.

“I don’t get you, Francesca,” he said, his voice barely perceptible.

His words and tone hit her emotional wall hard. It took every drop of willpower she possessed not to turn around and take another chance. Could she? Did she have the heart for another emotional crash landing?

“No one does,” she said.

“Do you get yourself?”

The question caught her off guard. She turned around but looked down at the ground. She answered truthfully. “Not really.” She didn’t get much these days. Just when she thought she knew what she wanted, her family tried to kill her.

“What do you want?” he asked.

Her head snapped up and she looked him in the eyes. “Respect.”
To live. To not have to look over my shoulder every time I step outside. To share my life with someone I trust, who even if I screwed up royally wouldn’t want to drop me like last week’s news.

“You have that in the industry.”

“I have it only by way of my family name.”

“Why did you go to work for your father?”

She let out a long, frustrated breath and backed up against Rosie. Why did this man continually challenge her? “To show him I had something to contribute. To prove to him I was a team player.”

“Are you?”

She narrowed her eyes and jerked back her head. “What do you mean?”

“Are you playing on your father’s team or getting back at him?”

“Getting back at him for what?”

Reese shrugged. “All the years of neglect.”

“Look, Father wouldn’t have won any Father of the Year awards, even with Anthony. He was what he was. I accept that.”

“Then why work for him?”

“I thought it was what I wanted. To work for my father. To make him proud of me.”

“Was he?”

She swallowed hard and slowly shook her head. “Not in the end.”

“What happened, Frankie?”

“We disagreed about a lot of things.”

Reese moved closer and pushed a tendril of dark hair from her cheek with his fingertips. “If you could be anyone or do anything, what would it be?”

She shrugged and patted Rosie’s withers. “I’ve always loved horses. As a little girl I watched reruns of
Big Valley
with my mother. She loved Heath.” She looked up and squinted against the sunshine. “I wanted to be blonde and beautiful like Audra, and marry Heath.”

“She lived on a ranch. He was nothing but a cowboy.”

“Yes, but she was so sophisticated. She had the best of both worlds. And what’s so wrong with cowboys?”

“My mother thought she wanted that life too, cowboy and all. Turns out she didn’t.”

She watched the shadows cross his face. “What happened?”

He shrugged and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. His eyes locked with hers and he unbuttoned the next one. “She left.”

This time when Frankie reached out to touch Reese, he let her. His muscles flexed hard beneath her palm.

“Do you miss her?”

“No.”

“If I had children, I’d walk through fire for them.”

He unbuttoned the third button and opened his shirt. Her hand slid up his forearm to his bicep. “Do you want children?” he asked.

He lowered his head and her hand slid up to his shoulder. The controlled power of the man excited her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Do you?”