Mompov Redhead

He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his clean, soapy scent. “How about holding this one?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing a stray strand of red hair from her cheek.

“That red against the white cabinets,” he said, almost to himself. “In the morning light, it would be a killer shot. The contrast.” mompov redhead

Claire reached up and gently took the camera from his hands, setting it on the coffee table. “The house can wait,” she said, her voice a low murmur. “Show me what else that lens can’t capture.” He stepped closer, close enough that she could

“Claire, please,” she said, stepping aside. “And thank you for the rush. The market is insane right now.” “In the morning light, it would be a killer shot

The afternoon sun, thick as honey, poured through the bay window of the suburban Chicago kitchen. Claire, 42, ran a hand through her cascade of copper-red hair, a shade that had never come from a bottle. She was waiting for the real estate photographer, a young man named Leo, who was supposed to shoot the newly renovated space for the listing.

“It’s everything,” he replied, standing. He gestured toward the living room. “Can we move in there? The fireplace will make a great anchor.”

“I should probably finish the shoot,” he whispered.