Joaquin went from one room in the cabin to the next, grabbing every lamp that wasn’t fixed to the wall, from big floor lamps to the tiny lamp from thenightstand.
“What exactly are you doing—or do I want toknow?”
But he didn’t seem to hear her. “I don’t have a light kit with me. All I’ve got is one lousybounce.”
“Abounce?” She had no idea what thatwas.
He didn’t seem to hear her, but moved lamps here and there, taking lampshades off, adjusting them, and using duct tape to hold them where he wanted them. “I think this will make a decentsoftbox.”
Whatever thatwas.
She sipped her wine, feeling as if she were watching some strange reality TV show about home decorating with too manylamps.
He set a chair in the middle of his lampforest.
“I’ll put the bounce here.” He took something out of his camera bag—a folding silver reflector—and set it across from the chair. Then he turned on all of the lamps and closed the blinds, shutting out the daylight. “Come sithere.”
“You’re taking my photo.” Okay, fine. She would indulge him. “Shouldn’t I put on some makeup orsomething?”
“You don’t needit.”
She sat on the chair, feeling incredibly self-conscious.
He held the light meter close to her face, adjusted a lampshade, then picked up his camera and fiddled with thesettings.
“What should I do?” She looked at Joaquin, then realized she should probably be looking into thelens.
He started taking photos. “Do whatever feelsnatural.”
She stuck out hertongue.
“Nice.”
She smiled, then looked away. “Nothing really feels natural sitting here while you take pictures three feet from myface.”
Thatwas anunderstatement.
Mia had never felt more self-conscious in herlife.
Joaquin lowered the camera, scrolled through the images, then knelt beside her. “Now, Ms. Realist, try to tell me the woman in this photograph isn’tbeautiful.”
* * *
Joaquin watchedthe play of emotions on Mia’s face, watched her struggle to take in the photos ofherself.
He broke it down for her. “Look at your big blue eyes, your delicate red eyebrows. You’ve got ridiculous cheekbones and a cute little nose. I love your mouth, that lower lip. Your face is a perfect oval—no square jaw here. Your skin is almost translucent. Your red hair is thick and shiny and feels likesilk.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “You didn’t do anything to theimages?”
“No. Nothing. Look.” He scrolled to the next and the next. “You’re cute even when your tongue is sticking out or you’renervous.”
“Can we do thatagain?”
“Sure.” He could shoot Mia allday.
After that, they played. Mia smiling, laughing, being silly. Mia with her hair drawn over her mouth like a mustache. Mia hugging herknees.
“Wait just a sec.” She jumped up and ran into the bedroom, emerging a few minutes later wearing her bathrobe over a bra and panties. “Is thisokay?”