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  appendage,” Lisa declared, staring boldly at the couple across the room. “His attention, however, is riveted on you. No, don’t turn around,” she hissed as Hillary started to turn head. “Oh, good grief, he’s coming over. Quick,” she whispered desperately, “look natural.”

  “You’re the one standing on her head, Lisa,” Hillary returned calmly, amused by her friend’s rapid capitulation.

  “Well, Hillary, we just can’t keep away from each other, can we?”

  Hillary heard the deep voice and her wide eyes met Lisa’s startled ones before she looked up to meet Bret’s crooked smile. “Hello.” Her voice was oddly breathless. Her glance took in the shapely redhead on his arm. “Hello, Miss Mason, nice to see you again,” she said quietly.

  Charlene merely nodded. From the expression in her frosty green eyes, it was apparent she couldn’t have disagreed more. There was a short pause. Bret raised his brow in inquiry.

  “Lisa MacDonald, Charlene Mason and Bret Bardoff,” Hillary introduced quickly.

  “Oh, you’re Mode magazine,” Lisa blurted out, her eyes shining with excitement. Hillary looked in vain for a hole to open up and swallow her.

  “More or less.”

  Hillary watched, helpless, as Bret turned his most charming smile on Lisa.

  “I’m a great fan of your magazine, Mr. Bardoff,” Lisa bubbled. She appeared to be unaware of the darts shooting at her from Charlene’s narrowed eyes. “I can barely wait for this big layout of Hillary’s. It must be very exciting.”

  “It’s been quite an experience so far.” He turned to Hillary with an annoying grin. “Don’t you agree, Hillary?”

  “Quite an experience,” she agreed carelessly, forcing her eyes to remain level.

  “Bret,” Charlene interrupted. “We really must get to our table and let these girls get on with their lunch.” Her eyes swept both Hillary and Lisa, dismissing them as beneath notice.

  “Nice to have met you, Lisa. See you later, Hillary.” His lazy smile had Hillary’s heart pounding in its now familiar way. But she managed to murmur goodbye. Nervously, she reached for her tea, hoping Lisa would not discuss the encounter.

  Lisa stared at Bret’s retreating back for several seconds. “Wow,” she breathed, turning huge brown eyes on Hillary. “You didn’t tell me he was so terrific! I was literally liquified when he smiled at me.”

  Dear heaven, Hillary thought wearily, does he affect all women that way? Aloud, she spoke with mock censure. “Shame on you—your heart’s supposed to be taken.”

  “It is,” Lisa affirmed. “But I’m still a woman.” Looking at Hillary, she went on shrewdly, “Don’t tell me he leaves you unmoved. We know each other too well.”

  A deep sigh escaped. “I’m not immune to Mr. Bardoff’s devastating charm, but I’ll have to develop some kind of antidote during the next couple of months.”

  “Don’t you think the interest might be mutual? You’re not without substantial charm yourself.”

  “You did notice the redhead clinging to him like ivy on a brick wall?”

  “Couldn’t miss her.” Lisa grimaced. “I had the feeling she expected me to rise and curtsy. Who is she, anyway? The Queen of Hearts?”

  “Perfect match for the emperor,” Hillary murmured.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Are you done? Let’s get out of here.” Rising without waiting for an answer, Hillary gathered her purse and the two women left the restaurant.

  The following Monday Hillary walked to work. She lifted her face to the first snow of the season. Cold flakes drifted to kiss her upturned face, and she felt a thrill of anticipation watching soft white swirl from the lead-colored sky. Snow brought memories of home, sleigh rides, and snow battles. Sluggish traffic was powerless against her mood of excitement, and Hillary arrived at Larry’s studio as bright and exuberant as a child.

  “Hi, old man. How was your holiday?” Wrapped in a calf-length coat, a matching fur hat pulled low over her head, and cheeks and eyes glowing with the combination of cold and excitement, she was outrageously beautiful.

  Larry paused in his lighting adjustment to greet her with a smile. “Look what the first snow blew in. You’re an ad for winter vacations.”

  “You’re incorrigible.” She slipped out of her outdoor clothing and wrinkled her nose. “You see everything cropped and printed.”

  “Occupational hazard. June says my eye for a picture is fascinating,” he added smugly.

  “June says?” Delicate brows raised inquiringly.

  “Well, yeah, I’ve, uh, been teaching her a little about photography.”

  “I see.” The tone was ironic.

  “She’s, well, she’s interested in cameras.”

  “Ah, her interest is limited to shutter speeds and wide-angle lenses,” Hillary agreed with a wise nod.

  “Come on, Hil,” Larry muttered, and began to fiddle with dials.

  Gliding over, she hugged him soundly. “Kiss me, you fox. I knew you had it in you somewhere.”

  “Come on, Hil,” he repeated, disentangling himself. “What are you doing here so early? You’ve got half an hour.”

  “Amazing, you noticed the time.” She batted her eyes, received a scowl, and subsided. “I thought I might look over the work prints.”

  “Over there.” He indicated his overloaded desk in the back corner of the room. “Go on now and let me finish.”

  “Yes, master.” She retreated to search out the file filled with the prints of the layout. After a few moment’s study, she drew out one of herself on the tennis court. “I want a copy of this,” she called to him. “I look fiercely competitive.” Receiving no response, she glanced over, seeing him once more totally involved and oblivious to her presence. “Certainly, Hillary, my dear,” she answered for him. “Anything you want. Look at that stance,” she continued with deep enthusiasm, glancing back at the picture in her hands. “The perfect form and intense concentration of a champion. Look out, Wimbledon, here I come. You’ll tear them apart, Hil.” She again assumed Larry’s role. “Thanks, Larry. All that talent and beauty too. Please, Larry, you’re embarrassing me.”

  “They lock people up for talking to themselves,” a deep voice whispered in her ear. Hillary jumped. The picture dropped from her hands to the pile on the desk. “Nervous, too—that’s a bad sign.”

  She whirled and found herself face to face with Bret—so close, in fact, she took an instinctive step in retreat. The action did not go unnoticed, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a disarmingly crooked smile.

  “Don’t creep up on me like that.”

  “Sorry, but you were so engrossed in your dialogue.” His shoulders moved eloquently, and he allowed his voice to trail away.

  A reluctant smile hovered on Hillary’s lips. “Sometimes Larry lets the conversation drag a mite, and I’m obliged to carry him.” She gestured with a slender hand. “Just look at that. He doesn’t even know you’re here.”

  “Mmm, perhaps I should take advantage of his preoccupation.” He tucked a silky strand of hair behind her ear. The warmth of his fingers shot through her as he made the disturbingly gentle gesture, and her pulse began to jump at an alarming rate.

  “Oh, hi, Bret. When did you get in?”

  At Larry’s words, Hillary let out a sigh, unsure whether it was born of relief or frustration.

  December was slipping slowly by. Progress on the layout was more advanced than expected, and it appeared that actual shooting would be completed before Christmas. Hillary’s contract with Bret ran through March, and she speculated on what she would do when the shooting stage was over and she was no longer needed. It was possible that Bret would release her, though she admitted this was highly unlikely. He would hardly wish her to work for a competitor before his pet project was on the stands.

  Maybe he’ll find some other work for me through the next couple of months, she theorized during a short break in a session. Or maybe she could be idle for a time. Oddly, the latter prospect ap
pealed to her, and this surprised her. She enjoyed her work, didn’t she? Hard work, yes, but rarely boring. Of course she enjoyed her work. It was enough for her, and she intended to keep it first in her life for the next few years. After that, she could retire if she liked or take a long vacation, travel—whatever. Then, when everything was in order, there would be time for a serious romance. She’d find someone nice, someone safe, someone she could marry and settle down with. That was her plan, and it made perfect sense. Only now, when thought through, it sounded horribly cold and dull.

  Larry’s studio was more crowded than usual during the second week of December. This particular morning, voices and bodies mingled in the room in delightful chaos. In this shooting, Hillary was sharing the spotlight with an eight-month-old boy as she portrayed the young mother.

  A small section of the room was set to resemble part of a living area. When Hillary emerged from the hairdresser’s hands, Larry was busy double-checking his equipment. Bret worked with him, discussing ideas for the session, and she chided herself for staring at his strong, lean back.

  Leaving the men to their duties, she went over to meet the young mother and the child who would be hers for a few minutes in front of the camera. She was both surprised and amused by the baby’s resemblance to her. Andy, as his mother introduced him, had a tuft of hair as dark and shining as Hillary’s, and his eyes, though not as deep as hers, were startlingly blue. She would be taken without question for his mother by any stranger.

  “Do you know how hard it was to find a child with your looks?” Bret asked, approaching from across the room to where Hillary sat with Andy on her lap. Bret stopped in front of her as she laughed and bounced the baby on her knee, and both woman and child raised deep blue eyes. “A person could be struck blind by all that brilliance. Perhaps you two should turn down the wattage.”

  “Isn’t he beautiful?” Her voice was warm as she rubbed her cheeks against the soft down of his hair.

  “Spectacular,” he agreed. “He could be yours.”

  A shadow clouded over dark blue, and Hillary lowered her lashes on the sudden longing his words aroused. “Yes, the resemblance is amazing. Are we ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, partner.” She stood and rested Andy on her hip. “Let’s get to work.”

  “Just play with him,” Larry instructed. “Do what comes naturally. What we’re looking for is spontaneity.” He looked down at the round face, and Andy’s eyes met his levelly. “I think he understands me.”

  “Of course,” Hillary agreed with a toss of her head. “He’s a very bright child.”

  “We’ll keep the shots candid and hope he responds to you. We can only work with children a few minutes at a time.”

  And so they began, with the two dark heads bent near each other as they sat on the carpeted area with Hillary building alphabet blocks and Andy gleefully destroying her efforts. Soon both were absorbed in the game and each other, paying scant attention to Larry’s movements or the soft click of camera. Hillary lay on her stomach, feet in the air, constructing yet another tower for ultimate demolition. The child reached out, diverted by a strand of silky hair. His stubby fingers curled around the softness, tugging on it and bringing it to his mouth wrapped in a small fist.

  Rolling on her back, she lifted the child over her head, and he gurgled in delight at the new game. Setting him on her stomach, he soon became enchanted by the pearl buttons on her pale green blouse. She watched his concentration, tracing his features with her fingertip. Again, she felt the pull of sudden longing. She lifted the baby over her body, making the sounds of a plane as she swayed him over her. Andy squealed in delight and she stood him on her stomach, letting him bounce to his own music.

  She stood with him, swinging him in a circle before hugging him against her. This is what I want, she realized suddenly, holding the child closer. A child of my own, tiny arms around my neck, a child with the man I love. She closed her eyes as she rubbed her cheek against Andy’s round one. When she opened them again, she found herself staring up into Bret’s intense gaze.

  She held her eyes level a moment as it drifted over her quietly that this was the man she loved, the man whose child she wanted to feel in her arms. She had known the truth for some time, but had refused to acknowledge it. Now, there was no denying it.

  Andy’s none-too-gentle tug on her hair broke the spell, and Hillary turned away, shaken by what she had just been forced to admit to herself. This was not what she had planned. How could this happen? She needed time to think, time to sort things out. Right now she felt too confused.

  She was profoundly relieved when Larry signaled the finish. With a supreme effort, Hillary kept her professional smile in place while inside she trembled at her new awareness.

  “Outstanding,” Larry declared. “You two work together like old friends.”

  Not work, Hillary corrected silently, a fantasy. She had been acting out a fantasy. Perhaps her entire career was a fantasy, perhaps her entire life. A hysterical giggle bubbled inside her, and she choked it back. She could not afford to make a fool of herself now. She could not allow herself to think about the feelings running through her or the questions buzzing inside her brain.

  “It’s going to take some time to break down and set up for the next segment, Hil.” Larry consulted his watch. “Go grab a bite before you change. Give it an hour.”

  Hillary assented with a wave of relief at the prospect of some time alone.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Oh, no,” she protested, picking up her coat and hurrying out. His brow lifted at her frantic tone. “I mean, don’t bother. You must have work to do. You must have to get back to your office or something.”

  “Yes, my work never ceases,” he acknowledged with a heavy dose of mockery. “But once in a while I have to eat.”

  He took her coat to help her with it. His hands rested on her shoulders, their warmth seeping through the material and burning her skin, causing her to stiffen defensively. His fingers tightened and he turned her to face him.

  “It was not my intention to have you for lunch, Hillary.” The words were soft, at odds with the temper darkening eyes. “Will you never cease to be suspicious of me?”

  The streets were clear, but there was a light covering of white along the sidewalks and on the cars parked along the curb. Hillary felt trapped in the closed car sitting so close to the man who drove, long fingers closed over the steering wheel of the Mercedes. He skirted Central Park, and she endeavored to ease her tension and slow the incessant drumming of her heart.

  “Look, it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She indicated the trees, their bare branches now robed in white, glittering as if studded with diamonds. “I love the snow,” she chattered on, unable to bear the silence. “Everything seems clean and fresh and friendly. It makes it seem more like …”

  “Home?” he supplied.

  “Yes,” she said weakly, retreating from his penetrating gaze.

  Home, she thought. Home could be anywhere with this man. But she must not reveal her weakness. He must never know the love that rushed through her, tossing her heart like the winds of a tornado that swept through Kansas in late spring.

  Sitting in a small booth, Hillary babbled about whatever innocuous subject came to mind. Chattering to avoid a lull where he might glimpse the secret she held within her, securely locked like a treasure in a fortress.

  “Are you O.K., Hillary?” Bret asked suddenly when she paused to take a breath. “You’ve been very jumpy lately.” His eyes were sharp and probing, and for a terrifying moment Hillary feared they would penetrate her mind and read the secret written there.

  “Sure, I am.” Her voice was admirably calm. “I’m just excited about the layout.” She grasped at the straw of an excuse. “We’ll be finished soon, and the issue will be on the stands. I’m anxious about the reception.”

  “If it’s only business that bothers you,” he said abruptly, “I believe I’m qualified to predict th
e reaction will be tremendous.” His eyes reached out and held hers. “You’ll be a sensation, Hillary. Offers will come pouring in—magazines, television, products for your endorsement. You’ll be in a position to pick and choose.”

  “Oh.” Was all that she could manage.

  His brows knitted dangerously. “Doesn’t it excite you? Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” he asked brusquely.

  “Of course it is,” she stated with a great deal more enthusiasm than she was feeling. “I’d have to be demented not to be thrilled, and I’m grateful for the opportunity you gave me.”

  “Save your gratitude.” He cut her off curtly. “This project has been a result of teamwork. Whatever you gain from it, you’ve earned.” He drew out his wallet. “If you’re finished, I’ll drop you back before I return to the office.”

  She nodded mutely, unable to comprehend what she had said to arouse his anger.

  The final phase of shooting was underway. Hillary changed in the small room off Larry’s main studio. Catching sight of her reflection in the full-length mirror, she held her breath. She had thought the negligee lovely but uninspired when she had lifted it from its box, but now, as it swirled around her, she was awed by its beauty. White and filmy, it floated around her slim curves,