“Mr. Spence,” the photographer calls. “If you’re ready we’ll get started.”

“Just let me change.”

Change?

While he’s gone the photographer calls me over and shows me a few basic functions of the camera and how and when to shoot. Xander comes back out wearing a suit that he totally rocks. A suit, coupled with his conservative haircut, makes him look a lot older than seventeen. He picks up a magazine off the table and sits on the couch. Seriously, I’ve never seen someone look so good in a suit. The photographer takes a few shots and then starts directing him. After he takes a dozen or so he turns to me. “Why don’t you try a few while I set up the next scene?” And then he goes into the kitchen (the hotel room has a kitchen) and starts moving things around.

“You didn’t tell me you were the model.”

“Didn’t I tell you my dad is making me the face of the business?” he says, and looks down. For the first time ever I see him blush. “It’s embarrassing but he’s found that people are more drawn to shots with life in them.”

“So these will be on flyers and things?”

“Mostly on our website, but yes, flyers, too.”

A website. Why didn’t we have a website for the doll store? I smile and put the camera to my eye. “All right, hot stuff. Work it.”

Looking at Xander through the lens of a camera is rewarding. I can do it without worrying about staring. As the day progresses I learn how to zoom in, focus on his smile or his eyes. His skin is amazing. His hair the perfect amount of shine and body. It’s just a little wavy, which, although it’s on the short side, makes it stand up perfectly.

I get to set up a few shots. I play with the light coming through the windows. First overexposing him, bathing his face in light. And then reversing the effect and backlighting him so he is like a dark shadow, all edges and curves. I get a few with the ocean in the background. The hotel room has the perfect view.

“Loosen up, Xander,” I say at one point.

“What? I’m loose.”

“You’re just so formal. You’re supposed to be on vacation in these shots, right? Act like it.”

“I’m in a suit. I’m probably actually at a business meeting or something.”

“A business meeting for uptight employees?”

“Hey now.” He laughs, and both the real photographer and I snap more pictures.

Just when I think the photographer has gotten all the pictures (and more) that he could possibly need, the hotel room door opens and a handsome middle-aged man walks in. I don’t need Xander to curse under his breath to realize it’s his father. The resemblance is obvious. They both have the brown eyes and the light brown hair, the high cheekbones and full lips. And they both carry themselves in exactly the same way: like they own the world. Xander’s father scans the room and stops on me.

Chapter 15

Mr. Spence pauses on me for a full thirty seconds, taking me in from my six-month-old at-home haircut to my ratty Converse. Then he gives me a small nod of acknowledgment. I sense he thinks I’m an assistant to the photographer, and if Xander wants to play along with that, I don’t blame him.

Xander looks between his father and me. If I was so hesitant to introduce Xander to my mom, I can only guess how he feels about introducing me to his father. I keep my mouth shut and maintain a tight grip on the camera.

Mr. Spence spots the open laptop in the corner. The photographer, most likely realizing what that means, says, “They are the raw, unedited shots, but you’re welcome to look at the ones I’ve captured so far.”

Xander stands. “But either way, we’re done.” He walks to the bedroom, and right before he gets to the door, he looks back at me and says, “Caymen,” almost like he had expected me to know to follow him. I give him the Are you sure? look and he holds out his hand. My heart flips and I take a deep breath and walk toward him, but am not stupid enough to grab his hand when I reach him. I just walk past him and into the bedroom. He follows me in and shuts the door.

For some reason I’m out of breath.

The clothes he came here in are hung nicely over a chair in the corner and he walks over to them muttering something I can’t understand. As he slides out of his suit coat and starts to unbutton the shirt underneath, something hits me. What if I’m his signal: another one of the messages to his dad to show that he doesn’t want to be part of his father’s world, a pawn in his game of rebellion? Is that why he started coming around? Hang out with the poor girl. That’ll really get under his father’s skin. I turn to face the wall while he changes.

I slip the camera off my neck and trace my finger over the silver button on top.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not changing in here. I’ll go in the bathroom.”

But when I turn back around, thinking I’m safe, his shirt is all the way unbuttoned. Regardless of the fact that his clothes are resting over his arm and he’s heading for the attached bathroom, my face reddens at the sight of his bare, nicely defined chest.

Even after the bathroom door clicks shut, my heart continues to beat an accelerated rhythm. I walk slowly around the room, trying to calm it. Xander will not have this effect on me. I won’t let him.

The furniture and bedding in the room are nicer than anything in my house. I let my hand trail over the rich material. When he comes out clothed I ask, “Xander, is this your camera or the photographer’s?”

“It’s mine.”

“Do you think I can borrow it for a few days?”

“Of course. For what?”

“I have a porcelain doll fetish. Thought I could take some high-quality pictures of them.”

He shakes his head. “And let’s try that again. For what?”

“I kind of like the website idea. Maybe it’s time our store has one.” It could possibly save us from financial ruin.

“Hmm. That doesn’t sound like the best way to show your mom you have no interest in the store.”

I shrug. “I’ll just set it up and have her run it. Bring her into the modern world.” Maybe a website could eventually take the place of me. People could place their own orders, we could make more money . . . then my mom could afford to hire a part-time employee. I try not to get my hopes up, because it could take months, but I like the idea.

He doesn’t answer but takes the camera from me and nods his head toward the door, behind which his father exists. How bad is this going to look when we walk out there, Xander fully changed?

He must sense my hesitation because he says, “I don’t care what he thinks, Caymen.”

Of course he doesn’t care what he thinks. He probably wants his dad to think something is going on between the two of us.

“Whatever.” I open the door and try to walk out as casually as possible. My face doesn’t get the memo and blushes. His dad is still studying the shots on the screen in the corner.

I turn back to Xander, wondering where to go. He’s holding the camera up and fires off a shot. I put up my hand. “Don’t.”

“Come on, you have to be on the other end of the camera now. I have to see if modeling is something you’d want to do.”

“Not even a possibility.”

“With those eyes?” He shoots another picture. “It is definitely a possibility.”

It may be my imagination, but he seems extra flirty. I swallow the lump in my throat. “These eyes are about to commit redrum.”

He laughs louder than I’ve ever heard him laugh, confirming my suspicion that he’s doing this all for his dad’s benefit. “Come on, Caymen, loosen up,” he says quoting me.

I cross my arms and glare at him. He takes one more shot with a laugh and then walks to the hutch, puts the camera in its case and then hands it to me. “Go crazy with your dolls.”