Plus One

Chapter Ten

Ian knocked on Sophie's door, then rang the doorbell. He'd been dying to tell her the news ever since his meeting with Condé Nast. Last he'd talked to her she was planning on spending the day at home. He took off his shoes and socks, then started up the path beside the house that led to the beach. He was halfway across the sand when he saw her walking beside the water, heading toward him. It was nearly sunset and the sun's rays bathed her in a golden glow.

She hadn't noticed him yet. He stopped to watch her. She was holding her camera, angling it toward the sunset. The view was breathtaking, but he hardly noticed it. He couldn't take his eyes off her, the way the sunlight turned her to molten gold. His blood seemed to move faster through him, propelling him toward her. Sophie, it whispered. Sophie.

When he was a few feet away she turned, as though sensing him. This was the first time he'd seen her since the night of the disastrous dinner party at the Tate. He'd wisely given her a few days to herself, even though he was going mildly insane from not seeing her. A crush. This was just a silly crush, a distraction because he was terrified out of his mind of getting married. That's all it was.

He took a few tentative steps toward her. A slow smile spread across her face and suddenly it was easier to breathe again.

"Hey," he said, when he was close enough for her to hear.

"Hey. Is there something going on tonight? Sorry, I left my phone in the house."

"No, it's okay. I just wanted to be able to give you the news in person: Condé Nast is doing a feature on me and the Tate and they want you to be the photographer."

She stared at him. "What?"

He smiled at her shock. "I recommended you and after they looked at your website they thought you'd be a great fit."

"Are you serious?"

"Sophie, I'm your patron. Did you think I'd forgotten that?"

"Thank you!" she shouted, launching herself into his arms.

It took his breath away, the force of her joy, the feel of her in his arms.

"You're very welcome," he murmured.

He wanted to run his hands through her hair, kiss her full lips, take her to bed—but, no. No more of that.

"I can't believe this is happening," she said, almost to herself.

Neither can I, he thought.

He had to find a way to get this girl out of his system.

***

days later, at the end of their first month together, Sophie and Ian were back at the Tate on Sunset. A crew was joining Sophie for the shoot and she was clearly in her element. She wore a simple pair of skinny jeans and a loose blouse, but it was enough to make his eyes glued to her body. Maybe it was just the thrill of the hunt. Maybe they just needed to have sex and then he'd be over her. It happened like that sometimes.

"Ian," she said, coming closer to him. "What do you think of these locations? I'll get you on the roof—the sun is marvelous right now, you'll look like a sexy beast, I promise."

He laughed. "Alright."

"And then I was thinking near the fountain in the garden. Then in one of the rooms. Good?"

"Perfect. I knew you were right for the job."

She beamed, then turned to the girl who was acting as her assistant for the day. "Can you please get Mr. Tate in makeup? I'll go consult with the stylist."