Vision In White - By Nora Roberts Page 0,8

over at Charles. He winked at her.

Okay, okay, Mac thought. Humans in there after all.

“I’ve got several very nice formal shots. I know that’s what you wanted, but I wonder if you’d do something for me?”

“We’re really on a schedule,” Charles began.

“It’ll take less than five minutes. Stand up, Elizabeth. Let me just move the stool.” She dragged it away, then took her camera from the tripod. “How about a hug? Not me. Each other.”

“I don’t—”

“Hugging’s legal in Connecticut, even when you’re not engaged. Just a little experiment, and I’ll have you out of here in two minutes.” She grabbed her light meter, checked, adjusted.

“Put your right cheek on his chest, but cheat it toward me. Turn your face a little toward me,” Mac explained. “And look this way. Charles, angle your head down to hers, but tip your chin my way. Take a deep breath, then let it go, just let it go. You’re holding on to the person you love, right? Enjoy it. And eyes on me, right on me, and think about what you felt like the first time you kissed.”

There!

The smiles were quick, spontaneous. Soft on her part, even a little sly, and delighted on his.

“One more, just one more like that.” She got three before they stiffened up again. “Done. I’ll have several proofs for your approval by—”

“Can’t we see some now? It’s digital, isn’t it?” Elizabeth pressed. “I’d just like a quick idea.”

“Sure.”

Mac walked to the computer with the camera, set it up to display. “These are raw, but you’ll get the gist.”

“Yes.” Elizabeth frowned at the screen as Mac started the slow slide show. “Yes, they’re nice. That’s—that one.”

Mac stopped on one of the formals. “This?”

“That’s what I had in mind. It’s very good. We both look good, and I like the angle. This one, I think.”

“I’ll mark it. Might as well see the rest, to be sure.” Mac started the slide show again.

“Yes, they’re really very good. Very good. I do think the one I picked is . . .” She trailed off as the shot of them hugging came on screen. “Oh. Well, that’s lovely. Really lovely, isn’t it?”

“My mother will like the first one you picked.” Behind her, Charles rubbed Elizabeth’s shoulders.

“She will. Exactly. We’ll get it for her, have it framed for her. But . . .” She looked at Mac. “You were right; I was wrong. This is the one I want, the way I want to be portrayed in our engagement photo. Remind me I said the first part in September, when I try to tell you how to do your job.”

“I will. I was wrong, too. I think it’s going to be a pleasure to work with you after all.”

It took Elizabeth a moment, but she laughed.

She sent them off to Parker, figured Parker now owed her. She was sending off clients who—for the moment, at least—were more open to ideas and direction than they had been.

She settled down to complete packages for clients. One set of proofs, and the other the complete choices, all displayed in albums. For Bride and Groom, for MOB, MOG, the extra photos requested by various members of the families and wedding party.

When they were boxed, she decided she had just enough time for a quick dish of leftover pasta salad before she carted them and herself over to the main house.

She managed a couple of bites, eating over the sink. Frozen fairyland, she thought, staring out the window. Everything still and perfect. She grabbed her glass of Diet Coke, started to drink.

The cardinal smacked right into the window, a bang and blur of red. Diet Coke spewed up at the jerk of her hand to splash all over her shirt.

She watched the idiot bird wing away while her heart vibrated in her throat. Then she looked down at her shirt. “Damn it.”

She stripped it off, tossed it on top of her stacked washer/ dryer in the kitchen pantry. In bra and black pants, she wiped up the spill on the counter. Irritated, she grabbed the ringing phone. Since the readout indicated Parker’s cell, she answered with an aggrieved, “What?”

“Patty Baker’s here to pick up her albums.”

“Well, she’s twenty minutes early. I’ll be there, and so will they—on time. Keep her occupied,” she added as she moved toward the studio. “And don’t bug me.” She clicked off, turned.

Then she stared at the man who stood inside her studio.

His eyes popped, he blushed, then with a choked, “Oh God,” he spun around.

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