She unzipped her jacket, pulling a sheet of folded paper from an inside pocket. ‘You probably haven’t had a chance to look at my CV yet, but when you do you’ll see that I’m a paramedic.’
If she’d been trying to surprise him, she’d pulled off a master stroke. When he took the paper, it seemed warm to the touch. Ben put that down to his imagination, rather than the heat of her body.
‘When did you change jobs?’ He unfolded the paper, scanning it.
‘I didn’t. I did an evening course in photography when I was at school and found that I can take a decent portrait. The income from that helped put me through my training as a paramedic, but now I want to extend my range a little. I think my first-hand experience of working with the emergency services gives me something unique to bring to this project.’
It was either a canny career move or some kind of personal crusade. It was difficult to tell what sparked the passion that shone in her eyes, and it really wasn’t Ben’s job to decide. All he needed to concern himself with was the practicalities, not whatever made Callie Walsh tick.
‘All the same, I’d like to have first sight of all the photographs you take...’
Callie shook her head. ‘That’s not the way I work.’
‘It’s the way I intend to work.’
The edges of her mouth curved slightly, as if she already had her answer ready and had been waiting for the right time to slap him down.
‘Then you’ll have to adapt. I decide which of my photographs goes forward, and they go to the individuals concerned first, so they can review them and choose whether they want to sign a release. After that they go to the station commander. It’s all agreed and I’m sure he’ll show them to you if you ask nicely.’
Ben ignored the jibe. The procedure sounded reasonable enough but he would have no hesitation in circumnavigating it if he saw any threat to the welfare of the firefighters on his watch.
‘All right. But if I feel that any of the photographs are inappropriate, I won’t hesitate to block them.’
She folded her arms. ‘You want to give me some artistic direction? What do you mean by “inappropriate”?’
He shouldn’t feel embarrassed about this, even if her green eyes did seem to rob him of his capacity to stay dispassionate. It was simply an observation.
‘I won’t have any of my crew treated as...eye candy.’
Ben had expected she might protest. But her gaze travelled from his face, looking him up and down slowly. He tried to suppress the shiver that ran up his spine.
‘You think you’d be good eye candy?’
Ben had a healthy regard for disdain, particularly when it emanated from a beautiful woman. It was almost refreshing.
‘No, that’s just my point.’
‘Good. We’re in agreement, then. Anything else?’ Callie smiled. Her face became softer when she did that, and the temptation to enjoy this confrontation became almost overwhelming.
‘Don’t leave any of your equipment around. I don’t want anyone tripping over anything.’
‘I’m looking for spontaneity, not posed shots, and my camera is all I need. I never leave it around.’
‘Okay. And if the alarm sounds, I need you out of the way. Quickly.’
‘Understood. I’ll flatten myself against the nearest wall.’ Her gaze met his, and the thought of crowding her against a wall and kissing her burst into Ben’s head. Maybe he’d muss her hair a little first and find out whether the soft centre that her lustrous eyes hinted at really did exist.
He dismissed the idea. If the alarm sounded, that would be the last thing he should be thinking about. And if it didn’t then it was still the last thing he should be thinking about.
‘That’s great. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure. May I get on and take a few shots now?’
‘Yes, please do.’ Ben turned, and walked away from her.
Maybe...
There was no maybe about it. Callie took his breath away. He’d aired his concerns less tactfully than usual because her mesmerising gaze had the power to make him forget all his reservations about her presence here. Even now, he was so preoccupied by the temptation to look back and catch another glimpse of her that he almost forgot he’d intended to go back his office and found himself heading on autopilot towards the ready room.
He didn’t need this kind of complication. He’d been burned once, and if he allowed himself to be burned again, that would be entirely his fault. This was a professional relationship, and that was where it began and ended.
* * *
Callie watched his back as he walked away. Gorgeous. One hundred percent, knee-shakingly gorgeous. Dark, brooding looks, golden skin and bright blue eyes that the camera was sure to fall in love with. It was a shame about the attitude.
But he’d only said the things she’d known already. Stay out of the way. Treat the people she photographed with respect. Maybe he’d loosen up a bit when he saw that she knew how to handle herself.
Callie almost hoped that he wouldn’t. If this guy ever actually got around to smiling at her, she’d be tempted to throw herself at him. If she wanted to avoid all the woman-traps that her mother had fallen into over the years, it would be a great deal easier if Ben Matthews didn’t smile. Ever.
* * *
Ben had watched her all morning, and had hardly got a thing done. His crew, on the other hand, had been subtly persuaded to get on with their jobs, while Callie observed. She asked questions, laughed at everyone’s jokes, and made a few self-deprecating ones of her own. It was all designed to put them at their ease, wipe the fixed smiles from their faces and get them to act naturally.
He saw her quietly lining up a few shots from the corner of the garage, and Ben had puzzled over why she should want them. Then the alarm sounded and she was suddenly back in that spot. He realised that it was the optimum out-of-the-way location to catch the movement of men and women, and then the noisy rush as the fire engine started up and swept out of the garage. She was good.
Maybe the professional thing to do was to try giving her the benefit of the doubt. He’d assumed that Callie was all about the cliché, but everything she’d done so far told him that she was all about the reality. Ben waited for a lull in the morning’s activity and saw her heading for the ready room. He followed her, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
‘Would you like one?’ He gestured towards his own cup and Callie shot him a suspicious look. He probably deserved that.
‘No, thanks. A glass of water...’ She pursed her lips and something in her eyes told him that one of the quiet, dry jokes he’d heard her share with the crew was coming. ‘If you trust me not to throw it all over you, that is.’
‘You’re thinking about it?’
‘I’m told that wet fireman shots are very popular.’ She smiled suddenly, and Ben reconsidered the dilemma that had been bugging him all morning. The best thing about Callie wasn’t the way she moved, or her long legs, or even her bright green eyes. It was her smile.
‘I guess I deserve that.’
‘I guess you do.’
The sound of ice breaking crackled in his ears as he filled a glass from the water dispenser. Ben walked over to the table, leaving an empty seat between his and hers when he sat down.
Callie was watching him thoughtfully. ‘Your concerns are reasonable. Everyone wonders what a photographer is going to make of them, and one of the issues that was raised when I visited last week was that I didn’t glamorise your work.’
Ben had missed that.