Desert Rain

One
"Come on, Shannon, smile like I'm your lover. You do know what a lover is, don't you, sweetie "

Holly Shannon North bit back what she wanted to say and smiled as she had been trained to do.

Jerry was the hottest fashion photographer outside of Paris, but he had a mouth like a razor blade. Since Holly had refused to sleep with him, he had become nearly impossible to work with.

The flash that burst in Holly's face was reflected in flexible metal shields held by sweating technicians.

"Better, but not good enough," Jerry said. "I know you're ice from the neck down, but let's keep it our secret, lovey."

Holly lowered her eyelids until her unusual sherry-colored eyes were only glints beneath thick black lashes. Long hair fell like black water over her bare shoulders and upper arms. Her smile widened without becoming a bit softer.

Jerry grunted.

Motionless, Holly waited. Perspiration made fine tendrils of hair curl over the high temples and slanted cheekbones that had transformed a young girl called Holly North into Shannon, an internationally famous model.

"Now give me a pout," Jerry ordered. "Lots of lip just begging to be bitten."

Holly pouted.

"Turn left," Jerry said harshly. "Make that hair fly. Make every man who looks at you want to feel it sliding over his naked skin."

Holly turned with the grace that was as much a part of her as her long legs and lithe body.

The heat that had everyone else short-tempered and sweating was like wine to her. She had been raised in Palm Springs' scorching, brilliant, endless summers. The desert sun that bleached out most people made her bloom.

A delicate rose flush glowed beneath her skin, hinting at the heat within, a heat that only one man had ever touched.

Lincoln McKenzie.

Don't think about him, Holly told herself automatically. It only hurts you.

Though she tried not to think of Linc, she couldn't help herself. The feel of Palm Springs in the summer was too unique. She couldn't make herself believe that she was in New York or Paris, Hong Kong or London or Rome, and Lincoln McKenzie was half a world away.

Holly knew that Linc lived here, near enough to touch. He was part of the desert, as strong as the mountains rising in stark grandeur beyond the city.

Memories of Linc, like the sun, fired her skin.