The Expert’s Guide to Driving a Man Wild (Bluebonnet #3)(52)
Author: Jessica Clare

Totally hot. He’d be in her dreams tonight, that was for sure, provided that she allowed herself to fantasize about a man like him being interested in a mouse like her.

He chuckled. “I’m going to guess that’s a yes.”

“Yes,” she said, and the word was so quiet that she cringed internally.

“You don’t have to be shy around me,” he said easily. “I’m not anyone important.”

Just the most stunning man who’s ever talked to me, she thought to herself, but said nothing aloud.

The front door to the lodge banged, and Elise jumped backward a step, retreating away from him. Brenna wandered in.

“Well, Elise,” she began, undoing the chin strap of her bright pink ATV helmet as she strode to her desk. “They’re all in hiding from me, so unless you want Pop, we’re going to have to do this thing without a model—” She stopped in her tracks at the sight of Rome and a beaming smile crossed her face. “Why, lookie there.” Her tone became sugary sweet. “Hello, Rome, you sweet thing you.” Brenna sashayed over, grinning like a madwoman. “Did Elise already tell you that she needs a man?”

Oh no. Elise felt her face get hot. She stared at the floor again, wishing it would swallow her up. Did Brenna have to word it like that? It made her sound desperate and lonely.

Not that she wasn’t, of course. She just didn’t want it to sound like she was.

“A man, huh?” Rome’s voice sounded amused, but he wasn’t laughing at her at least.

“For her photo shoot. She needs a male model and Dane and Colt are hiding out from us. You want to volunteer?”

Volunteer? Elise wanted to protest. Rome made her too uncomfortably aware of who and what he was. She needed someone like Dane, who she’d known since grade school and thought of more like a brother than a grown man. Or Colt, who’d be all business the entire time and never make her feel uncomfortable. Not Rome with his gorgeous eyes and long lashes and dark tattoos and that sexy lip ring. She had to concentrate for her photos and if he was distracting her, she’d get nothing but lousy shots.

And she really should have said some of this aloud. But her tongue remained glued to the roof of her mouth and she gave Brenna a mute look of appeal.

“Is this part of my new job?” Rome asked. “Cause if so, I suppose I don’t mind.”

“It is,” Brenna told him firmly, her voice cheerful. “We require all our men to strip down and oil up.”

“This a survival business or a strip joint?”

“Which one did you want it to be?” Brenna teased him.

Elise stood by mutely, listening to their banter. Brenna was so easy with Rome—so easy with all the guys, actually. Elise was wildly jealous of her. Not only was she pretty, she was fun and outgoing. Elise was none of those things.

Brenna could get a man like Rome. Not Elise. Boring, plain, unable to speak to men Elise.

“You sure you want to take pictures of me? I’m not exactly clean-cut,” Rome said, and his hand went to his flat stomach and he idly scratched it.

“You don’t have any scary tats, do you?” Brenna asked bluntly. “No obscene pickle-fucking or racist symbols or anything?”

Rome snorted. “Hell no.”

“I think we’ll need to see some proof,” Brenna told him, and moved to Elise’s side, elbowing her in camaraderie. “Right, Elise?”

A small squeak that might have been assent escaped her throat.

Rome looked over at her. “Was that a yes?”

She looked back at Brenna with mute appeal. But when there was no help coming from that quarter, she turned back to Rome. “Um . . . okay?”

“All right, then.” He reached for the hem of his tight shirt and pulled it out of his jeans, then dragged it over his head.

Elise was struck dumb at the sight of him without his shirt on. Big, brawny shoulders framed flat pectorals and washboard abs. A large, dark series of lines covered the front of his chest, going from collarbone down to below his pectorals. Skulls, knives, and other symbols were woven into the intricate design. It wasn’t typical, but she was fascinated by it. And by him.

“Hmm. I don’t know if that’s too much for the photo. What do you think, Elise?” Brenna turned to her.

“Beautiful,” Elise said softly, still staring at those tattoos. They were a work of art all their own, the way they flowed together. That chest tattoo even flowed to the ones covering his arms, so they were almost like another skin on him. And they were done with the greatest of care—that much was obvious. She wanted to run her hands over the tattoos and the hot skin they covered, just so she could admire them with her touch.

And then she realized she’d said he was beautiful aloud. Her face flushed and she took a step backward involuntarily. “I, um, have to set up my equipment,” she told Brenna. “He doesn’t have to do it if he doesn’t want to.”

Before she could hear Rome’s answer, she grabbed her case of camera equipment and rushed out the front door.

So humiliating! Part of her prayed that Rome would decide he was too busy to fool around with the photo shoot. The other part of her wanted to get pictures of that gorgeous man so she could admire them at her leisure. It would almost be as good as the real thing. Almost.

• • •

“God, I wish I had your job,” Brenna said to Beth Ann, sipping a straw as she sat in a folding deck chair, a big floppy hat on her head as she drank her blended homemade margarita.

Next to her in an identical chair and wearing an identical hat, Miranda lifted her bottle of beer to her lips, gaze riveted ahead. “I don’t want her job. I like watching.”

Beth Ann grinned and considered the man standing in front of her with a tilt of her head. “Do you think we need more mud or more mist?”

“More mud,” Brenna said. “Baby likes ’em dirty. Rowrrr.”

“I vote mist,” Miranda chimed in, lifting her beer.

“Do I get a vote?” Rome asked. He stood next to Beth Ann in the midst of the trees, on a rocky outcropping situated just behind the lodge. He wore no shirt and his face, neck, and one shoulder were spattered with mud, as were the dark BDUs he wore, and combat boots. Two camo streaks had been painted under his eyes.

“No vote,” Brenna said. “You are simply a canvas for greatness.”

Rome snorted.

Beth Ann considered him a moment longer, and then spritzed him with another fine mist. “I think the gleam on the tattoos is a nice touch. What do you think, Elise?”