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" I like to think of myself as a professional, but yesterday could not have started off less smoothly. The two assistants that Beth arranged for \u2014 who I will from now on refer to as the less-than-genius-twins \u2014 were understandably bitter that they were working on Christmas Eve, but also overwhelmingly incompetent.  I arrived at 6 a.m., as planned, but they didn&amp;#039;t even show up until 7:30 a.m. If we had an all-week shoot, that would be one thing, but we needed to be out of the house by the afternoon!  By 10 a.m., I made the decision to send them home, knowing it would be better to just try and get the shots solo \u2014 managing the lighting and the cameras all by myself, like I did in the old days.  I have to say: Once they were gone, it started to be a lot of fun.  Josh had a beautiful mountain home: windows everywhere, rafters 18 feet high, beautiful French country furniture. I cranked up the Van Morrison CD that I often shoot to and got all the traditional photographs I needed, including the money shot of the cozy living room, a beautiful fire going in the background \u2014 the one I was 95 percent sure Beth would choose for the cover.  Then I began experimenting with cool-view shots from the upstairs.  When Josh arrived a little after 2 p.m., I was essentially done. I dancing to &amp;quot;Crazy Love&amp;quot; and closing up the cameras.  Which is why I didn&amp;#039;t see him standing in the doorway until I was mid-twirl.  He was wearing a fleece and great-looking faded jeans and boots. He looked rugged and super-handsome. Less New York City than Colorado. He could easily fit in around here year-round!  He had his arms folded across his chest, and he was smiling at me. I blushed, turning down the music, and pulling my hair behind my ears.  &amp;quot;I was just\u2026&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;How long have you been standing there?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;All day,&amp;quot; he joked. &amp;quot;You didn&amp;#039;t notice me?&amp;quot;  I smiled at him. &amp;quot;Yeah, I don&amp;#039;t know how I missed you.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;How is it going?&amp;quot; he asked, looking around his living room. It was in perfect shape, if I do say so myself. You would never guess I had been here all day, except for the softly burning fire in the fireplace.  &amp;quot;Well, I&amp;#039;m all done. You have a great home, and I got everything the magazine needs. So I will be out of your way so you can enjoy it with your family for Christmas.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Now, that&amp;#039;s too bad.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;What is?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;That you got all of your work done.&amp;quot;  I looked at him, confused.  He was quiet for a minute. &amp;quot;Because I was hoping you&amp;#039;d be running behind, and I could have blamed it on work when I told you that you were welcome to stay for Christmas Eve dinner. Now I have no choice but to just say that I would love it if you could stay. If you would stay\u2026&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Josh\u2026&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Us having a connection and all,&amp;quot; he joked.  I laughed, remembering the scene by the elevator. &amp;quot;You&amp;#039;re never going to let me live that down, are you?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Stay for dinner and I&amp;#039;ll consider it.&amp;quot;  I was quiet. I wanted to stay for dinner. I was excited about the photographs, wanted to show Josh what I had come up with, and, really, just wanted to spend more time with him.  But what about Beth? Something told me that I didn&amp;#039;t know the whole story there. And he was my boss. I couldn&amp;#039;t forget that. I shouldn&amp;#039;t forget that.  &amp;quot;Come on, Liz,&amp;quot; he said, and moved out of the doorway and closer to me. &amp;quot;Even if you have a boyfriend to get home to for Christmas morning, we can get you on the last flight out of here tonight.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Is that your way, boss, of asking me if I have a boyfriend?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;That is my way of saying please stay for dinner. No strings. No expectations.&amp;quot; He paused. &amp;quot;Just please don&amp;#039;t call me boss\u2026Mr. Earthy, fine, but not boss.&amp;quot;  Which was when I opened my mouth to answer \u2014 against my better judgment, or, with it.  &amp;quot;Okay, Mr. Earthy, I will.&amp;quot; "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.redbookmag.com/love-sex/a2487/diary-e-122507/>