She was vaguely aware of the shutter snapping, but all her focus, all her concentration, was on the memories washing over her. And the fantasy of experiencing that heat with him again.

And that was really…

Bad. Wrong.

And damned inconvenient.

She closed her eyes and tried to visualize Greg-the man she should be thinking about. Greg. Her boyfriend. The man for whom she was having these provocative boudoir pictures taken. Her plan had been to reignite their stalled love life with a gift of these photos. Yet ever since she’d walked into the studio and discovered to her shock and consternation that Adam would be taking the pictures, her fine plan had disintegrated like steam in a wind storm. And speaking of steam…she felt as if it were pulsing from her every pore.

“Roll onto your side,” Adam said, “and let the strap of your teddy fall off your shoulder…that’s it. Now shake your head and wet your lips…perfect. You’re beautiful, Mallory. Stunning. And sexy as hell.”

You’re beautiful, Mallory. Another memory slammed into her. A hot summer night. Adam’s parents away for the weekend. Skinny-dipping in Adam’s pool. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his erection buried so deep in her body she didn’t know where she ended and he began. His fingers slowly tracing her features as if trying to memorize them. His husky words whispering over her wet skin…You’re beautiful, Mallory.

Blinking away the image, she managed to say, “I bet you say that to all the women you photograph.”

He looked at her over the camera and she felt the impact of his regard all the way down to her feet. “No, I don’t.”

Heat seeped through her, and suddenly she felt beautiful. Stunning. Sexy. In that way he’d somehow always made her feel. A way she hadn’t felt for a long time. If she had felt that way, she most likely wouldn’t be here, trying this last-ditch effort to resuscitate her and Greg’s sex life. But Adam’s praise echoed in her ears, encouraging her to push aside her inhibitions.