The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,60
as impassively as if she were a piece of furniture.
‘Right, think about the shot you took this morning. The man in black next to the train.’
Seriously? Fiona’s anger seeped away at his total indifference. Being angry with him was pointless; he was in work mode. She huffed out a sigh and focused on the moment she’d taken the picture. Unconsciously, her mouth curved as she recalled the intense pleasure when she’d seen the shot in the viewfinder. Without thinking, she lifted her chin slightly. It was a damn good shot, although she was nonplussed by Gabe mentioning it; at the time he hadn’t seemed to register it or even been that impressed. He was a conundrum but fascinating to watch working. She really was nothing but a job to him.
Click, click. Gabe snapped away, hidden behind his camera before finally saying.
‘Good. Right, now could you turn and face me, put both elbows on your knees and support your chin in your hands and look straight at the camera. I want to see where the shadows will fall.’
Pursing her lips with resignation, she changed her pose, tempted to point out that the sun would have moved by the time the actor arrived but Gabe was in the zone. She didn’t need to feel self-conscious any more – he was oblivious to her. For the next few minutes, he tweaked and changed her sitting position, not saying a word to her apart from the brusque instructions.
Then he came out from behind the camera and studied her impassively, his lips twitching and his eyes sharp and completely focused on her. She wanted to shrink away from the intense gaze; it was as if he could see all the way through her but at the same time didn’t see her at all.
With narrowed eyes, holding the camera in one hand, he nodded with his head to the opposite end of the sofa. ‘I want you to lie full length on the sofa. Your head that end.’
She glanced uncertainly to where he indicated but he gave an impatient nod. ‘Stretch out and undo your hair.’
‘My hair?’
He nodded, lowered the camera, and before she could lift a hand to her plait, he had already tugged the elastic tie from the tufted end. With one hand he began to snag his fingers through the braid, loosening and freeing her hair. Impatiently, he suddenly dropped the camera on the sofa beside her and used both hands to push her hair away from her face, his fingers sliding into her scalp and his thumbs smoothing across her cheekbones. The touch ignited a shower of fireworks in her chest and she took in a sharp breath. It sounded horribly loud in the quiet hum of the room. The hands on her face stilled, although one thumb continued to graze her cheek bone as he stared down into her startled eyes, holding her gaze. His mouth softened into a gentle smile. ‘You have beautiful hair, Fi.’ His husky tone stirred a kick to her heart. ‘Beautiful.’
For a crazy moment – crazy given she’d been here once before and got it oh so wrong – she honestly thought he was going to kiss her. And dumb as it was, she couldn’t help parting her lips in hopeless, helpless anticipation.
Then as if he’d pulled himself together, he pushed the heavy weight of her hair over her shoulders and took a step back, all business again. ‘I want you to lie back, your head resting on the arm, so that your hair drapes over the arm and down. Like a waterfall.’
The moment evaporated and she blinked, taking a second to process his words.
‘Why?’
‘Because I want to see what it looks like,’ he said, as if it were totally obvious and she was being obtuse.
As she started to move he snatched the camera back up.
‘Okay,’ she said, still slightly dazed and lifted her arms to push up her hair. Even before she moved into position he was snapping away.
‘Right. Lie down. That’s it.’
‘Lie down?’
At his emphatic nod, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, she did as she was told, even though she felt a bit silly lying full length on the sofa and a lot puzzled. What was this in aid of? Did the film star have particularly long hair? Had he grown it for a role? She arranged her hair over the arm and Gabe danced forwarded, smoothing it one handed into place.