“It’s all they had left.”
“Are you sure it’ll make it to Miami? Looks like it might blow off the road.”
Zach loaded his bag into the hatchback. “Are you kidding? We’ll get great gas mileage in this baby.”
“Do you even fit inside?”
“It’s a little cramped, but we don’t have that much farther to go. You ready?”
“Sure.” She ducked into the car, feeling like she was getting into one of those clown cars she’d seen at the circus when she was a kid.
Zach closed the back and settled into the driver’s seat. His knees practically bumped the dash, and his head almost hit the ceiling.
“How many hours do you think it will take?” Reagan couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of his bulky build cramped in the small space.
“Maybe six or seven, depending on how many times we have to stop for gas.” Zach turned the key in the ignition. “What are we supposed to do about the dog?”
Reagan didn’t want to let herself think about the poor dog or she’d derail their plans to get down the coast in favor of going back to get her. “They want to keep her for a few days after her surgery. I wish I could take her with me, but I don’t have room in my condo for a dog that size. Now that she’s patched up, the vet said she’d call in one of the no-kill shelters to foster her until they can find her a home.”
“It’s probably for the best.”
Nodding, Reagan slid her shades over her eyes and forced thoughts of the poor pup out of her mind. The farther south they drove, the more humid the air felt. As much as she loved her hometown of Chicago, she always appreciated the chance to take a break from the long winter. She couldn’t wait to sink her toes into the sand and feel the warm ocean breeze blow over her skin.
She pulled her notebook out of her purse and tried to get comfortable in the small seat. The morning sun streamed through the un-tinted windows, heating up the dark interior of the car and making her think about taking off the long sleeve shirt. Zach had on a pair of clean, snug jeans and another one of his form-fitting T-shirts. He’d pulled his hair off his face into a short ponytail and she appreciated the view of his profile.
Focus. Reagan turned her attention back to her notebook. First item on the list—ask Zach about taking pictures of the wedding. Crap. She’d meant to do that last night. How could she let herself get so distracted that she failed to secure the photographer?
Angling her body toward him, she cleared her throat. He glanced her way, his dark brown eyes unencumbered by shades.
“What’s up?”
She took in a deep breath. If he agreed to photograph the wedding, he’d be around over the weekend. That meant she wouldn’t be able to chalk up their encounter as a one-night fling. He’d be in her face for the next several days. Would she be able to keep her hands off him? She let her gaze travel down his arm to his strong, capable hands currently wrapped around the steering wheel. Her thighs quivered as she recalled how capable those hands had been last night and how they’d felt wrapped around her ass.
“Can I ask you for a favor?” Reagan bit her bottom lip while she waited for him to answer.
Zach let out a laugh. “A favor, huh? Sure, hit me up. What else could I possibly do for you?”
“Forget it.”
His hand lowered to her thigh, and he ran his fingers over the thin fabric of her pants, causing a spark of heat to ignite deep inside her. “No, really. What do you need?”
Finally, not able to take it anymore, she clasped his hand in hers. “You know my photographer canceled. I don’t know what kind of job you have booked, but if you’d be willing to take photos of the wedding, I’d double whatever they’re paying you. I’m in a real bind.”
He pulled his hand from hers and put it back on the wheel. “Reagan, I’m not exactly a wedding photographer. I don’t have the right equipment.”
“Whatever you do would be better than me racing around with my iPhone. Please?”
“There’s no way your dad will want me there.”
“I already mentioned it to him, he’s totally on board.” At least he would be when she told him it was the only option. Who else was she going to be able to find on such short notice?
His gaze slid to meet hers. “Really? Your dad said he was on board with this?”
“Mmm hmm.” Little white lie. By the time they arrived she’d have a chance to let her dad know. What was the big deal anyway?
“Let me think about it.”
“For how long? I need to figure something out before we get to Miami. If you can’t do it then I need to try to line someone else up.” Why hadn’t she tried harder to find a replacement last night? Instead she’d let Zach distract her. Zach and his amazing mouth, his talented tongue, his secret embellishment…
“I need to make a few calls. I’ll let you know when we stop for gas.” He glanced her way and she nodded.
She fisted her hands, digging her nails into her palms. If she failed to come through for Teddy, she’d have to live with it for the rest of her life. Zach would have to agree. In the meantime, she needed to make sure there wouldn’t be any other surprises. Plus, she still had to determine how she was going to get from Miami to the island.
Those calls would have to wait. Even though she had shared more with Zach than she had with anyone else over the past few years, she still couldn’t let him know exactly where she was headed unless he took the photography job. She’d have to keep the exact location a secret until she convinced him to go with her.
16
Zach tried to hold it together when Reagan popped the question. Would he be willing to take pictures of the wedding? Did she really just fucking hand him a potential golden ticket? On a silver platter? The twinge knifed into his stomach, like it was splitting in half.
His mind jumped into overdrive with the possible outcomes. Six figures for pictures of the wedding? Could he fill his camera with shots and leak one or two to Scazzoli? Cash in on the big payout while getting Scazzoli off his back for good? If he didn’t give Reagan copies of the ones he passed on, she might think another guest took them.
But if she was as smart as he figured, she’d probably make everyone check their phones in before they could go to the wedding. Then she’d know any extra photos came from him. That would be one way to guarantee she’d shut him out of her life for good. He’d cash in and set up shop and Reagan would go on with her life. Her family would get over the scandal. With her dad in politics, they were used to it. But that wasn’t really what he wanted.
He splayed his fingers over his stomach to dull the pain.
“You okay?” Reagan asked, lifting her pen from where she’d been scribbling in her notepad.
“Yeah. Guess I didn’t get enough breakfast,” he lied.
She tapped the pen against her lips, lips she had wrapped around his dick less than twelve hours ago. Could he really sell her out when he felt such a need to protect her? To keep her away from guys like him who had the ability to bust through that flimsy barrier she tried to hide behind?
Reagan turned around and grabbed the pink box off the seat behind her. “Can I tempt you with a cupcake? Say yes to being my photographer, and I’ll let you have one.”