Bared. Jill Shalvis

date isn’t a ‘past.’”

      Amber laughed. “Silly me, I probably had a crush on him at the time. Truth is, he wasn’t into me. He’s not into models or anything else Hollywood.”

      “So why do you kiss him after each shoot?”

      “What?”

      Emma was getting a bad feeling here. “So you…don’t kiss him?”

      “Of course not. Look, maybe I dated him that one time and maybe I like to mess with him on the set sometimes, but if I was going to kiss anyone, it would be Stone. I mean, my God, have you seen his eyes? If he wasn’t gay…”

      “But Rafe—”

      “He’s far too into his camera.”

      Code for he wasn’t into Amber enough, of course.

      So he’d gotten a kiss out of Emma under false pretenses.

      What did that mean?

      “So, will you do it, Emma? Go as me?”

      “No. What’s the costume?”

      “Camper girl,” said Amber. “It’ll be full coverage, no doubt. Jeans and a tank, something like that. Please?”

      Full coverage, nothing sheer, nothing so outrageously sexy that her every nerve ending quivered.

      “Please.”

      No. “I don’t know…”

      “You won’t regret this,” Amber said in a rush. “You’re the best. I’ll give Rafe’s assistant the number where they can reach you. You posing as me, of course.”

      “But I didn’t say I’d—”

      The dial tone sounded in her ear.

      “—do it,” she finished, then she hung up and stared out the window of her house to the yard she’d neglected so badly that it had become nothing more than overgrown bush. She’d meant to get out there this year, but something had always come up. Work related, of course.