Watching the beautiful men and women chat, Melissa's hands grew damp and her stomach started to hurt. There was no way she could go out there; she could never compete with the supermodels enjoying her family's hospitality.

She turned to leave just as her father caught sight of her. "Melissa, come out and say hello to everyone."

Licking her suddenly dry lips nervously, praying she wouldn't make a fool of herself in front of Dominic, Melissa slowly pushed through the kitchen door and walked into the living room.

"What's that on your face?" her father exclaimed in a loud, slightly drunk voice. "And what the hell are you wearing?"

Twenty pairs of eyes turned her way, the Christmas CD playing in the background actually began to skip, and all conversation stopped.

Dying of embarrassment, Melissa barely noticed her mother moving to her side in support. Her father's blunt remarks had often hurt her feelings, but never this badly. She wanted to run out of the room, but her feet felt as heavy as bags of cement.

Desperately hoping no one else had heard her father's comments, she forced a smile. "Hi, guys," she said with a dumb little wave. She avoided Dominic's gaze. "Merry Christmas."

Two dozen gorgeous, talented men and women smiled back at her with varying degrees of pity in their eyes. It was the most awful, embarrassing moment of her life.

Her father turned to open a bottle of Cristal, and she was about to make a break for her bedroom when he peered at her again. "And what on earth did you do to your hair? It looks like you have a big orange basketball on your head."

Tears sprang to Melissa's eyes just as Dominic said, "Stop upsetting the kid." He turned to face her. "You look great," he lied, then gestured to the table of appetizers. "Are you hungry?"

Dominic's girlfriend coughed behind her hand, but Melissa knew she was disguising a giggle. Feeling like a freak show, Melissa shook her head. "I should get back to my homework now."

As soon as she turned away, her tears started falling. Dominic DiMarco would never look at her as anything other than a stupid little girl. Never.

Melissa looked up from her vivid memory to find everyone looking at her and felt her cheeks flush. Quickly, she shook off the sense that she was still seventeen, chunky, and painfully insecure. Ten years had passed since then, long enough for Melissa to transform herself from a shy, overweight teenager into a curvy, confident woman. She was currently single by choice, not because she couldn't get a date. No longer in her early twenties, she just wasn't interested in wasting her time dating guys who couldn't possibly be "the one." She was holding out for someone special . . . someone like Dominic.

He stepped out from under the lights and walked to her, and her heart pounded hard and fast.

"Don't worry. I'll be gentle. I promise," he said in a low voice that only she could hear.

She had no idea what he was talking about. But her body reacted to his deep, sexy voice, her nipples beading against her silk bra.

"I think I missed something," she whispered. "Why is everyone staring at me?"

He grinned, his smile slow and full of heat. Melissa felt faint. Did he have any idea of its impact? He could have any woman as his sex slave with just the white flash of his teeth.

"Benjamin just asked if you'd mind standing in for the female model for a few minutes so he can set his light meter and try out various poses."

Melissa scanned the room. "She was here a minute ago. What happened to her?"

Dominic leaned in close, his breath on her ear sending goose bumps all over her arms. "Her boyfriend just called and broke up with her. It's going to take a while to fix her makeup." He pulled back and stared into her eyes. "I completely understand if you don't want to do it. Someone else could step in instead."

The makeup artist was practically waving her hand in the air at the thought of getting to rub herself like a cat in heat against Dominic under the lights. Melissa couldn't let that happen to him. Besides, she'd have to be crazy not to jump at five minutes of blissful nearness.

She manufactured a wide smile. "No problem. I'd be happy to help."

He took her hand and squeezed it as he led her over to the lights. She'd never thought the day would come when Dominic DiMarco would be holding her hand. His palms were calloused from years of catching footballs, and she couldn't help imagining his hands sliding down her naked body, over her breasts. Her breath caught at the potent image, then from the incredible real-life sensation of Dominic wrapping a possessive arm around her waist.

"How do you want us to stand, Benjamin?" Dominic asked, the consummate pro after hundreds of photo shoots.

She gave silent thanks that no one expected her to speak. She was too aroused, too amazed that this moment had come to pass. Dominic didn't seem the least bit perturbed about holding her, and she tried not to let his obvious disinterest get her down. Why should he treat her any differently than any other stranger he had to take a photo with?

Benjamin looked through his viewfinder. "Closer. Sexier."

Dominic pulled her closer to him, and she felt the length of his rock-hard quadriceps pressing into her thighs. She'd never been this intimate with a man with such a spectacular body, and it made her a little bit faint. And ridiculously horny.

The photographer grunted, obviously displeased with something. "Melissa, would you mind taking off your sweater? I can't get a handle on anything with all your clothes in the way."

She blinked at him. It was one thing to be held by Dominic with a cashmere barrier between them. It was another entirely to strip down to a silk tank top. Especially when her nipples were this hard.

Sensing her confusion, Dominic whispered, "I think he needs to see how the light bounces off of skin."

Nodding, she reached for the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head. The photographer's assistant took it from her trembling hands.

The photographer grunted again. "Much better. Now we need to figure a way to make the two of you look like one."

Blood rushed to Melissa's ears and for a moment all she heard was the drumbeat of her pounding heart. How was she going to make it through the next few minutes in one piece?

Following the photographer's suggestions, Dominic pulled her tightly against him, her breasts pressed against the hard wall of his chest, his groin into her lower belly. Butterflies flew madly around in her stomach. Her fantasies of being in his arms hadn't even been close to the reality of him—his heat, his strength, and even his innate gentleness.

"Much better," the photographer said. "Now tilt your head back."

She lifted her chin a couple of inches and Benjamin made a sound of displeasure. "More."

She felt Dominic's steady heartbeat against her chest. "Don't be shy," he said softly. "It's just me. Arch your back and lean into the weight of my arm. I'll hold you steady."

Forcing herself to concentrate on his words, she remembered that he did this sort of thing all the time. They were each just playing a part for an ad shoot. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she allowed herself to relax against him, to relish her role as the woman he desired above all others.

"That's it," the photographer said as he clicked a series of test shots on his digital camera. "Press your lips against her pulse point, Dominic."

Melissa nearly died as his lips made contact with her skin; for a split second she was in heaven.