into his pocket and turned to face the camera crew.
“About time, man,” Greg Carson, the photo shoot director, said.
“You could have done Lauren’s shots first.”
“We’re not that masochistic.” Greg laughed and waved Rowan over. “Come on. We’ll do the one with the jacket first, then the casual shoot with the loosened tie and jacket over your shoulder.”
Rowan shrugged into the Versace jacket and moved to stand beneath the studio lights.
Greg called out instructions as they worked on that day’s assignments, but not many. Rowan and Greg had partnered on enough photo shoots to know each other’s style. The cameraman clicked away as Rowan shifted fluidly, angling his body or his face based on Greg’s direction.
Finally, Greg grinned. “And that’s a wrap.” He pushed off his chair and walked over to shake Rowan’s hand. “Lots of great shots. Don’t know many people who can pull off the billionaire at work and the billionaire at play look as well as you.”
“Yeah?” Rowan laughed. “I bet I could pull it off better with a billion dollars in my pocket.”
Greg chuckled. “Grapevine says those high six-figure contracts are going to start pushing seven-figures next year.”
“I’m sure Simon would be delighted with his fifteen-percent cut.”
“Sure he would. You share the goodness when it comes your way, now, you hear?”
“Beer’s on me,” Rowan promised Greg and the camera crew. “As well as dinner at Morton’s steakhouse. Couldn’t have done it without you guys.”
“Hear, hear,” the cameraman roared.
A querulous female voice cut in. “How is a girl supposed to concentrate through this racket?”
As Lauren Cardillo walked into the studio, Greg cast Rowan a wry grin. “And here comes her royal highness,” he muttered under his breath. He raised his voice to shout, “All right, let’s hustle now. We’ll do the couple shots and then Lauren’s solo photos. Jake, switch out the lightbulbs for soft white.”
As the camera crew adjusted the lights and equipment around the studio, Lauren sidled up to Rowan. “How are you, darling?”
Rowan ignored the endearment as he buttoned up his shirt, tightened his tie, and shrugged his jacket back on. “Great. And you?”
“In top form.” She smoothed down the sides of her glittering blue-sequined gown. It accentuated her curves and showed off her cleavage to the best advantage. “You missed my party last weekend.”
“I told you I couldn’t make it.”
Her ruby red lips shaped a pout. “I thought you were just waiting for a personal invitation.”
Rowan frowned. “A personal invitation?”
“Much friendlier than an Evite.” She smiled. “I went over to your place on Friday evening with the personal invitation, but you weren’t there.” She trailed her fingertips across his biceps.
Rowan made a mental note to yell at Simon, his agent, for giving out his address. “I was out of town.”
“If you’re in town this weekend, we could have another party. A private one?”
Rowan silently blessed Vera for saving him from a bald-faced lie. “Actually, I’ll be out of town again this weekend. Sorry.”
Lauren laughed, but there was no humor in that sparkling sound. “Careful, Rowan, or I might think you’re not interested in me.”
I’m not interested in you. He tried not to sigh. “Let’s just get this photo shoot done.”
In theory, the emotional distance Rowan tried to maintain should have made the photo shoot awkward, but Rowan was too much of a professional to allow his personal feelings to get in the way of his job, and Lauren was only too happy to take advantage of Rowan’s physical proximity. Within an hour, Greg was the happy owner of several excellent shots of Lauren tastefully draped over Rowan’s arm.
“You’re done for today,” Greg told Rowan. “The crew will be set up by noon tomorrow for the cityscape shots. Don’t be late, and don’t waste our time gabbing on the phone with your girlfriend.” The statement, offered in a nonchalant tone, was deliberate.
Lauren stiffened. She blinked hard several times, and then shot Rowan a shocked, furious glare.
Rowan flashed Greg a grateful smile as he walked out of the studio. You can always count on your pals to help you let down a girl gently.
Behind him, Lauren threw a fit over the shade of her lipstick, except that everyone knew her screeching tantrum had nothing to do with the lipstick.
Well, Rowan amended, almost gently. He glanced at his watch. He had a hundred and ninety-two hours before his flight into Fort Lauderdale. The countdown had begun.
Chapter 5
“More! More tower!” Allison demanded.
Vera was certain no pharaoh had ever been as tyrannical, but amusement and affection added color to