He froze. Blinked. Swiped a hand down his face. "I meant," he ground through a clenched jaw, "that you always seem to be in a state of chaos. The crazy quiets when you're behind the camera. The calm is written all over your face." He looked at her once more, all tension evaporating from his features and, when he spoke again, his voice was rough. Low. "Honestly, Ames, it's about the only time I don't worry half to death about you."

She opened her mouth. Closed it. And wondered what it ...