Now she had a real excuse for her hands to shake. She was still a little rattled from their earlier encounter—she’d never been so unprofessional in her life. All she wanted to do was sit and stare at him, watch his hazel eyes change to that golden color as his passion grew, study the way his lower lip jutted out ever so slightly. She’d never been this sappy with a subject before. Famous or not. She watched Jack sip his black coffee, the small white china cup looking exceptionally fragile wrapped in his long lean fingers. He got distracted by something outside the window, and the quiet intensity in his eyes made her want to grab her camera. She moved, and when he paid no attention she did just that. But she got off only one shot before he gave her an annoyed look. She shrugged. “I couldn’t resist.” He didn’t seem happy, and she regretted taking advantage of the private moment. “Okay,” she said breezily. “Ready to get back to work?” “Do I have a choice?” “I was hoping the coffee would improve your disposition.”
