Rhonda Nelson - Picture Me Sexy (Harlequin Blaze)

H ES FALLEN ASLEEP , Delaney whispered softy. I need to lay him down. She smoothed her fingers over her sons dark, downy head and her chest inexplicably filled with wondrous joy.

Hold on just another minute, Sam told her haltingly, face behind the camera. This is too good. I cantI cant stop. Just a few more minutes.

Though her heart filled with exasperated happiness, Delaney resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Hed been pleading a few more minutes for the past hour. For the past year. Her shutterbug husband had been taking pictures of her for what felt like forever. Racy photos, then when shed become pregnant, hed become almost obsessed with her maternal form, wanted to catalogue every change in her body.

Her pregnancy had inspired a new line of maternity lingerie at the Chifferobe and her new senior photographer, a hot guy by the name of Sam Martelli, had headed up the project as well as fine-tuned others. Together they were an unbeatable team. Her business had enjoyed success before he came on-board, but now Laneys Chifferobe was a force to be reckoned with. They gotten married immediately after getting back together and the speedy wedding had sparked a flurry of controversial publicity in Memphis. The Herald, in particular, had taken an unfavorable slant to her marriage. But one visit from Sam, his attorney, father and brothers in tow, had nixed any further uncharitable articles.

Shed thought that his fascination with taking pictures of her would wane once the baby was born, thought her son would become his new favorite subject, but shed been wrong. Oh, hed taken thousands of pictures of their baby, but had taken thousands more of she and the baby together. Nudes, stills, indoor, outdoor, everywhere.

Shed come to the babys room to nurse, had sat down in the rocker in front of the window and, when her greedy son had latched on to her breast, contentment and happiness had permeated her every pore. The rightness of the momentof her life with Sam and her childhad hit her. Sam had chosen that exact moment to walk into the room, hed gotten that look, hurried off, then reappeared with his camera. Delaneys lips curled. Sam Jr. had finished his morning snack thirty minutes ago, and yet Sam Sr. still wouldnt let her get up.

Delaney heaved a small sigh. Sam, Im going to lay him down. Im getting up now.

But

But nothing.

Oh, all right. He set the camera aside, met her at the crib and nudged a blanket out of the way so that she could lay the baby down. God, hes perfect, Delaney, Sam murmured softly, reverently. Though he wasnt comfortable with it yet, her big, tough, Italian husband had been known to tear up over their baby.

A smile gently tugged her lips. That was an assessment she wholeheartedly agreed with. Hes like his daddy, Delaney told him.

Sam slid his arm about her waist and pulled her close. Nah, hes definitely like his momma. He bent down and kissed her nose.

I suppose we could share the credit, Delaney replied drolly as familiar warmth started at her toes and fizzed to her hairline.

There is that. Sam drew back and inclined his head. Something hot and wicked lurked in his dark-as-sin gaze, clung to that lazy smile. When are Pops and the clan supposed to be here?

She knew where this line of questioning was headed. Anticipation drew a slow smile across her lips. Theyre coming for lunch. Not for several more hours. She hadnt simply acquired a husband, shed gotten a family to boot. A big, loud family whom she absolutely adored.

Sam bent down and nuzzled her neck. He hummed under his breath. I dont know about you, but Im hungry now. He nipped at her earlobe, sending a shock of gooseflesh across her skin.

Delaney shuddered delicately as pleasure hummed through her. Yeah? she murmured. I could go for something.

Yeah? For what?

Delaney slid her fingers into the hair at his nape, dragged him down and kissed him until she could scarcely draw a breath, until she felt him prod against her belly. She laced her fingers through his and tugged him toward their bedroom. Her eyes twinkled. Chocolate-covered sex.

A RMED WITH A GALLON OF fast-acting Weed-Be-Gone and a pair of garden gloves, Delaney wheeled out of the parking lot of her downtown Memphis office and aimed her sporty sedan toward Germantown, the posh upscale neighborhood Rogerthe ball-less wormcalled home.

While her sorry ex could squeeze thirteen cents out of every dime, there were a couple of areas in which he simply didnt spare any expensehis home and his lawn. Roger was a master gardener who spent every free minute and every spare penny landscaping his award-winning lawn. He was particularly proud of his turf, an expensive evergreen designer blend that stayed bright and lush even through the harsh winter months.

The word asshole written in dead grass would contrast nicely, Delaney thought with vengeful glee.

She pulled into the drive, made quick work with the weed-killer and just as quickly made her escape. The rush of adrenaline triggered a burst of giddy laughter, pushed past the irritation and made her feel absolutely wicked.

Delaney loved feeling wicked. She got the same thrilling rush from designing her lingerie. There was something so intensely satisfying about creating an outfit that inspired such an intimate, sensual act. One shed spent an inordinate amount of time fantasizing about. Being an overweight child, then overweight teen, had definitely been to her advantage in one waythe lonely hours had inspired her creativity, had essentially led her into her career. She wanted the women who wore her lingerie to feel sexy in it, empowered. Wanted them to revel in their sexuality, their femininity.

Speaking of empowered, who would have ever thought that such an asinine prank would be so satisfying? So mentally beneficial? She chewed her bottom lip and vaguely toyed with the notion of snatching a few of his prized antique roses, but quickly dismissed the idea. She didnt mind resorting to a little vandalism to smooth her ruffled feathers, but she wasnt quite brave enough to become a thiefyet.

Besides, she had an appointment to keep. Granted, no one but she and the photographer would ever see her boudoir photosbut she wanted them anyway, knew she needed to take that first step toward progress. Delaney felt sexy while designing the clothes, but couldnt feel sexy in them because shed always been so pathetically modest. That had to change. She needed to get past it, needed to garner a little of that feminine energy for herself.

She pulled her car into a parking space designated for Martelli Photography, grabbed her garment bag from the back seat and mentally prepared herself to battle her modesty. Her stomach knotted. Shed find happiness in little victories, she decided as she made her way into the old building. Why? Because men sucked.

The scent of fresh paint hit her the moment she stepped into the old building. She nodded to a couple of workers and ducked under a scaffold in order to reach the antique cagelike elevator. The old Gloria Gaynor song I Will Survive played a continuous loop in her head, bringing a smile to her lips and a bounce to her step.

Delaney grinned, pleased with the rush of endorphins this whole new men-suck philosophy had given her. She began to chant it aloud softlyverbal reinforcementand listened to the words echo as the ancient elevator slowly lifted her to the top floor.

Men suck, men suck, men suck. Damn, that felt good, she thought. So good that, since she was alone, she upped the volume and added a little more U.S. Marine oomph! to the suck part. Men suck, men suck, men suck.

A deep masculine chuckle reached Delaneys ears about the same time that a pair of manly bare feet came into her line of vision. As the elevator slowly drew up into what was obviously a penthouse suite, a pair of long denim-clad legs gave way to an extremely impressive bulge centered between a set of impossibly narrow hips. Blue cotton clung to a washboard abdomen, perfectly sculpted pecs and widened into a pair of the most beautifully muscled shoulders shed ever had the pleasure to pant over.