and shook his head again. Her face crumpled in disappointment but Ken smiled.
Ken spoke, calm and unhurried, and Fiona guessed that he was saying he was fine. With a mutinous expression on her face, the stylist and her assistant returned the suits to the rail.
With a brush full of powder, one of the make-up artists advanced and Fiona winced, seeing the implacable glint in the actor’s eye.
Gabe held up his hand. ‘We’re taking a few test shots,’ he said placatingly. ‘Getting the positions set up and the light and then we’ll see how we get on.’ Fiona caught the wink he sent to Ken.
Ken nodded and spoke to the entourage who all stopped twittering and flapping. Whatever he said had clearly eased their minds.
‘Tell you what,’ said Gabe ‘why doesn’t everyone take a break, while we get set up?’
Ken translated and ushered everyone to the door.
Fiona’s mouth twitched as she realised that the two men had cleared the room with the minimum of fuss.
‘Phew, that’s better,’ said Gabe. ‘I can hear myself think. We might be able to get done in half an hour, Ken.’
‘Good. Very good.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘And who is this?’
‘This is my new assistant, Fiona. And she’ll be no trouble.’
‘I didn’t think she would be, Gabe.’ He turned to Fiona, with a polite nod. ‘He wouldn’t allow it. Now, where do you want me?’
Following Gabe’s instructions, Ken reclined back against the sofa in exactly the same position that Fiona had been just forty minutes ago. But when it came to the shot with him leaning forward, elbows on his knees looking directly into the camera, Fiona could feel Gabe’s sudden excitement; it was as if a creative buzz fluttered across his skin.
Gabe moved the light reflector to a new position and asked Fiona to hold it up a fraction, pushing the light onto the actor’s very handsome face. Ken flashed a warm smile at her and she smiled shyly back. Gabe was right – he had presence and that indefinable charisma.
‘Nice. Keep smiling at Fi. Pretend she’s one of your legion of fans. Even though she’d never heard of you before today.’
‘Gabe!’ Fi protested but Ken leant back and roared with laughter, easy and unaffected as the camera clicked and whirred, capturing the shot.
For the next twenty minutes, Gabe teased and taunted the actor who responded with good humour – clearly self-deprecation was his middle name – and all the while, Gabe moved quickly and calmly snapping landscape and portrait shots, turning the camera this way and that. Crouching, leaning and stretching in a series of ninja moves like an elegant ballet dancer despite his rugby-player frame. Fiona watched. No wonder he was a legend. There was something indefinable about his total control and sense of purpose throughout. He knew exactly what he was doing and oozed self-confidence.
He shook his hair out of his face, the blue eyes glowing with excitement and enthusiasm and she froze, as something grabbed her heart and squeezed it. Her eighteen-year-old self hadn’t known the half of it. Her mouth dried as she took in his lean hips while he crouched to take another shot, the nimble fingers holding the camera. Bloody, bloody, bloody, hell.
No. She didn’t want to feel like this. This tumultuous rush of emotion. The warmth burning in her chest at the sight of him. Broad shoulders. Wide chest. Muscle-man thighs. Didn’t want to imagine what it would be like to be held in those arms up against that chest. Did not want to be in love, smitten, or intoxicated with Gabe bloody Burnett. He was too far out of her league. He was too sophisticated. Too bored with life. Too cynical. Too arrogant. Too bloody talented. Too bloody gorgeous. Too everything.
But it was too late, whatever her head was telling her; that stupid organ which was supposed to be responsible for pumping blood around her body had other flaming ideas.
Mortified, she stood as a flush of heat raced through her body, staining her cheeks, leaving her hot and very bothered. She moved towards the balcony and laid a cheek against the cold glass. What the hell was she going to do? She’d made a complete fool of herself over Gabe Burnett once before; she absolutely could not do it again.
And as if it wasn’t bad enough that she was as punch drunk as if a thunderbolt had come back for a second hit, Gabe swung his camera her way and took a shot.
‘What are you doing?’ her