"And I am inspired by you—"

"Whatever—"

"I would give anything to shoot you on film."

"No."

"Then this is me also thinking you are kind of cool. The stories you must have about your time in the outback. I would love to hear more when I am taking your photo about then and the kangaroos."

"Kangaroos?" Robbie couldn't have stopped the snort of laughter if he'd tried.

"Yes. In Australia. Y'know, kangaroos." Eli lifted his hands in front of him in an approximation of kangaroo front paws and even hopped up on his toes before catching himself.

"I know what a kangaroo is." Robbie shook his head.

"So would you think about it?"

"I already did. No. I'm not having my photo plastered everywhere for people to look at—"

"It would just be for me," Eli interrupted.

Robbie wasn't sure what to say to that one.

"That's not leveling out the creepiness factor here."

"I'd pay you." Eli was clearly getting desperate.

"How much?"

Eli mentioned a sum that was three times what Robbie earned at the Double D for working with the horses. He was paid generously by Jack and to have figures in the thousands of dollars thrown at him was a shock.

"It's still a no."

If a man could pout, then Eli was doing so. He looked like a kicked puppy and Robbie narrowed his eyes when Eli unconsciously rubbed at his elbow. Had the idiot hurt himself when he fell? Sympathy welled inside him. The ground was hard from whatever height you fell.

"Can I just have a kiss then?" Eli said.

Sympathy for the guy disappeared in an instant. What the fuck? A kiss? What the hell was this guy on?

"No." And with that Robbie took the stairs to his room two at a time and shut the door behind him, locking it immediately. He didn't check to see if Eli had left. He wasn't fascinated by the guy with the intriguing green eyes and the ready smile, nor was he interested in the spikes of his dark hair, nor in the sense of living life that seeped from every pore of him. The guy was in-your-face adamant that he could get what he wanted and that was the last thing Robbie needed. If he was looking for someone to kiss, let alone fuck, he certainly would not be looking at Eli freaking Martin and his artistic view on the world.

Nope, despite what his dick was telling him, he wasn't interested at all.

CHAPTER 9

Eli just stood there for a few seconds. That was a first. Eli Martin didn't get turned down by guys he approached to model for him. Jeez, any pretty guy whom Eli offered work to was on him like white on rice. And if that session included kissing and maybe a bit of casual sex then who was he to turn it down? The guys were normally very grateful and he wasn't too shabby at showing them a good time.

Robbie was different from them; he wasn't some muscle-bound gym rat who posed and pouted, and knew the score. That had to be what intrigued Eli. He crossed to the house and waited for a few minutes before entering. He could hear voices inside but he wasn't ready for Riley's teasing. That was the oddest thing. He had people tell him he was so many things. A flirt with his models. An idiot in business and shallow with his relationships. He agreed with every one of them.

But something about Robbie intrigued him. When Robbie talked to Hayley he didn't treat her like a kid, he was polite, kind, interested in what Hayley was saying. He was comfortable in his own skin, a cowboy from the core of him to the battered hat he wore. Every line of muscle was natural, born of hard work and delineated by the sun. His skin stretched over a body that just begged to be caught on camera.

Eli was good at what he did; he captured parts of his models that others didn't. From their insecurities to their smoldering sexual intentions, his photos sold products. Thing was, he had never begged a model, ever. Begging tall, blond, and gorgeous was a new one on him. It unsettled him.

"You coming in?" Riley asked.

Eli hadn't even noticed the door open. "He won't model for me," Eli said as he turned to face Riley.

Riley shrugged. "He's not a model. He's a cowboy."

Like that explained everything. Riley could sometimes be the master of understatement.

"I'll keep trying."

"Be careful with him, E. He's not like your other boys. There's a reason he ended up here and won't go back to Australia."

"What reason?"

"It's his story to tell." Riley's tone was patient and careful. Unspoken was the fact that other men could keep secrets as well as Eli with his illness.

Unease climbed inside Eli. Robbie didn't seem like a guy with too much he was hiding. And secrets? Well, Eli knew all about secrets.

Riley left then, moving back into the house, and after a few moments Eli followed.

Tomorrow was another day.

* * * *

Robbie slumped down on his bed. No one since Paul had gotten under his skin like that freaking photographer friend of Riley's. Those green eyes of his, all sparkle and enthusiasm, with a gaze fixed firmly on Robbie, were unsettling. And what was all that shit about photographing him. Him? No way was he stripping and oiling and whatever the hell other cosmetic shit that models had to go through.

Fucking though… he could get with that program. He crossed to the mirror on the wall and looked at his face this way and that. There was nothing handsome about his face. In fact it all looked pretty ordinary to him. His blue eyes were clear, his lashes thick, but he wouldn't begin to describe his eyes as unusual or stunning or any of the other adjectives Eli had thrown at him.

"Like a sky just before a storm, all dark and brooding," Robbie parroted and then huffed his displeasure. His hair was thick and clean, if a little awry now the gel had literally fallen dead on the ground.

"Asshole," he muttered. "Yanking my chain."

Pulling off his T-shirt he folded it on the small dresser. Unbuckling his belt he caught sight of himself as he pushed his jeans down a little. His stomach was flat, he had what they called a six-pack, and his butt was more than okay. Although it took Paul some time to convince him about the butt part. And he had muscles.

"Can push you to the ground, Eli Martin," he said. It comforted him just to say the words out loud. There was no way to deny that a working cowboy had muscles. He wasn't particularly hairy—just a small furring of hair on his chest and around his nipples, and a little farther down. His dick was okay as well. A decent size as dicks went. But still. None of it added up to anything more than cowboy. Eli was playing with him, teasing him, and he didn't like it. He'd seen this kind of bullying before and it had ended up with his friend dead.