Chapter SixThere was nothing tame about the woman reclining on midnight satin sheets. Dan Falkner let his dark gaze travel in lusty deliberation over Victoria Kirkland’s vital female form. From the wanton tumble of chestnut curls that titillated bare shoulder and scarlet-silk-bound breasts to the sensuous hip-to-waist curve exposed by flirty briefs, the overall effect was ravishing.
“Hold that pose, love.” The clipboard Peter Finch was holding crashed unimportantly against the studio floor. The photographer’s wiry frame acted as though it had been energized. One hand grabbed the loaded camera from a table; the other snapped to life the quartz lamps and repositioned an umbrella reflector. “Don’t move your head, Vikki. That’s marvelous. Wet your lips. Marvelous. Bend your right kn
