I know it’s not completely within bounds to let my feelings for her affect my business decisions, but what harm could this do? Jenny turns toward the lake and takes a few photos. Her dark hair shines in the moon, water still dripping down her back, and she’s so beautiful that I feel a pull toward her, as strong and steady as gravity.

No—it’s not only her beauty that makes me feel that way. It’s all of her. She’s a spitfire in the office and in bed, and I know without her having to tell me that she’s never been this open with another person. I’m a lucky man to reap the benefits of all the painstaking work she’s done.

Now, if I only I could convince her that it doesn’t make it any less real.

We have time for that, I catch myself thinking, and my heart skips a beat. Do we have time for that? Or is Jenny going to take the experience she gets here this season and go back to her freelance career? Work isn’t her favorite thing to talk about. Her boss—former boss, as she was careful to correct herself the last time we spoke about it—was the epitome of a guy with no sense of right and wrong rising to the top of a company that cared more about profits at any cost.

“You know what? You can choose the photos from now on. Don’t bother with my approval.”

Jenny turns back toward the pool and raises the camera again. I can see her beaming behind it. “You got it, boss. Now look to the right,” she says, and I do it without thinking. “You look so introspective.”

It’s hard to look at her without smiling.

“Don’t do that,” she says. “The serious male model expression was working for me.”

I laugh out loud. “Can you even get any photos when it’s this dark?”

“Are you kidding? The moon makes it like broad daylight.” She takes a few more photos. “Now dip your head in the water and fling it back out.”

That doesn’t work at all, and it leaves both of us in a fit of laughter. When it’s over, a chill runs down my spine. Time to get out of the pool.

I wade to the side and climb out while Jenny takes another batch of photos. So many photos. She must have some real gold on her camera. Yet there I am, always steering her toward the conservative choice. Also, I don’t know where I left my swim trunks. They’re not on the bench where I thought they were.