A/N: *blushes profusely*The finalists for the NoN contest have been announced, and my entry has made the list! I'm truly honored to be chosen among such amazing stories. If you haven't already, please check them all out. You can vote for your favorite here:

http://www . fanfiction . net/~naughtyornicelist

The poll will close on February 5th!

A/N: Nutella kissies to my amazing betas r— nycsnowbird and youbettago. Any mistakes remaining are purely my own ;p

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the characters in SVM or the HBO series True Blood. However, the original content and ideas below are mine all mine.


CHAPTER 8: DODGE & BURN

There is nothing worse than a brilliant image of a fuzzy concept.

~Ansel Adams

I was extremely relieved that I would be going home soon.

Granted, I might stay for a few extra days—I'd told Pam that I would give this gig serious consideration, and I intended to. My Gran raised me to keep my word, and I prided myself on always doing so. But, even if I did end up taking the gig, I would be going home soon … and none too early, as far as I was concerned.

A delicious shiver ran through my body as I remembered the predatory gaze that EN had turned on me on the beach, while we waited for the people who had intruded on our kiss to walk past us. I was panting, struggling to gain some small control of my senses, even as waves of unadulterated lust poured off of him, threatening to knock me right back down.

He didn't seem to want to control himself; instead, he looked like he was luxuriating in his seduction, just waiting for the intruders to retreat so he could make his move. I blinked rapidly and shook my head as my heart pounded in my chest, trying to convince myself that I was just imagining things, when he made that growling noise again. I admit I was a bit too focused on trying to figure out how it was physically possible for a human to make that noise, and why I was so damned turned on by it, to stop him when he crawled toward me, pulling me into his arms in one liquid motion.

Moaning at the hot kisses that he pressed into my neck, I wasn't quite able, or willing, to stop him. His hands were so strong and demanding, his breath so hot and delicious against my skin—all I could do was lean against him, digging my hands into his hair as I tried to steady myself.

The feel of his demanding hands brazenly slipping under my shirt finally woke me from my lust-induced haze. I gasped in shock as I felt his fingers sliding higher and higher and immediately yanked his hands away. He groaned a protest against my skin, his lips hot and moist as he buried his face deeper into my neck.

Did he actually think I was like one of those skanky hos, that I would just lay on my back and spread my legs for him – in public no less – unable to resist the EN magic?

No, sirree. I had no intention of becoming another notch on his Viking-sized bedpost. No matter how enjoyable it might be.

With my mind made up, I began to shove at his large, muscular shoulders with all of the force I could muster. "Get off me, Eric."

He took one long, shuddering breath and pulled away.

I jumped to my feet as soon as I was free of his hold and glared down at him. "I know you're used to sluts dropping their panties when you just look their way, but I'm not like that. I was raised better," I raged.

The lust instantly dropped from his eyes to be replaced by confusion quickly turning to pain. Huh? Eric Northman, Mr. Hollywood playboy, was hurt? What did he have to be hurt about?

But damn, if he didn't look hotter than ever, his hair all tousled and knotted as he looked up at me, scratching the back of his head, his bicep muscles rippling with the movement. Why did his sex appeal only seem to grow in direct proportion to how much harder I tried to resist him?

He rose to his feet and moved toward me, and I backed up, unwilling to relinquish the safety net of the distance I had put between us.

"Sookie, listen—I'm sorry. I don't know what you saw, but—"

"I saw enough," I snapped, raising my hands, palms flat, signaling him to stop advancing toward me. "Please, just drive me back to my hotel."

His stuck his hands into his pockets and seemed to be almost preoccupied with digging them in as far as they would fit, his shoulders slumping forward. When he finally looked up into my eyes I had to stop myself from staggering backward by the intensity in those ice-blue orbs. I suddenly had a vision of an adorably pouty, terrified little boy who had just been caught using his crayons on the living room wall.

"Of course," he muttered. " I'll take you back right away. But I just want you to know, nothing ended up happening—"

He stopped as I raised my hand again. "Please. You don't owe me any explanations … and I certainly don't want to hear all the gory details."

He opened his mouth to continue, but I threw up my hand again, and thankfully, this time he went silent. I couldn't bear his eyes. He drove me home in silence and I leaped out of the car when we arrived, giving him no opportunity to apologize.

My phone alarm startled me out of my thoughts. It was 11:30 a.m. I had set it after breakfast, to remind myself when to head downstairs for my lunch date with Pam.

Yes, I definitely had to get out of dodge. While the gettin' was good.

As much as I had enjoyed my little Sunday afternoon delight with EN, I knew that I was playing with fire—get too close, and you're bound to get burned. And, resisting the pull of the flame would only get harder the longer I stuck around.

I straightened my skirt and wiped away at invisible dirt, as I entered the restaurant.

"May I help you, Miss?" the hostess asked in the too-chipper tone of a well-practiced foot soldier in the customer service field, looking up from the magazine she was flipping through as soon as she sensed my presence.

"Um … yeah. I'm supposed to meet Pamela Ravenscroft for lunch?" I grimaced slightly, hating how my statements seemed to come out as questions when I got nervous. And new, unknown surroundings always made me nervous.

She gave me a warm, practiced smile and walked out from behind the greeter's station to lead me to my table. "Right this way, Miss."

I followed close behind.

"Oh, by the way," she told me over her shoulder as we wound our way through the seating area. "Miss Ravenscroft hasn't arrived yet. She just called to let us know that she was running a little behind, but she'll be here soon."

I'd barely had time to register and acknowledge her statement, when she stopped in front of me and motioned to my seat. I nodded my thanks and was just about to sit down, when I froze in my tracks. My hands reached for the chair in front of me, clenching its back tightly. Of course! How had I not put two and two together? Ugh. I wasn't sure who I was more furious with—Pam for pulling this crap, or myself, for being stupid enough not to figure out what she had been up to.

EN looked up at me, combing his graceful, long fingers through the golden waves cascading down his shoulders, and fixing me with a thousand watt grin. "Sookie, so nice to see that you are professional and punctual … unlike our good friend, Pam."

I gritted my teeth. "You're the client? This is unbelievable, even for you, Northman."

His smile only deepened. "I take it this does not please you, Sookie?"

I could only glower at him in silent fury, seething at his words and conceited, cocky swagger. The man obviously thought he was all that, and a big ol' jar of Nutella. I wondered if there was anything out there that could deflate that annoyingly oversized ego of his.

His smile softened as he straightened up in his seat. "Look, I understand why you might feel this way. But, please, sit down and catch your breath before you jump to any conclusions."

I gaped at him, eyes widening. The sheer gall would be laughable if it wasn't so disgusting. Yet, somehow, it was irresistible. Damn Viking smirk. I mean, it just wasn't fair on this poor country girl. It was a weapon of mass seduction, and he knew how to wield it entirely too well. There really should be some law against using it so mercilessly – like a no smirk zone. I had to stop myself from snickering at the thought of what special army unit could be called upon to enforce it—maybe the department of panty-land security?

He continued, his voice unnervingly cool and confident, either oblivious to my boiling rage, or simply choosing to ignore it. "Let's just enjoy our lunch, and then we can talk about it, okay?"

This finally snapped me out of my daze. I started backing up, huffing with indignation, "What? No way, buster! If you think I'm sitting down at the same table with you, much less eating—" My movement was suddenly blocked and my tirade interrupted as I felt two soft yet surprisingly strong arms curl around my shoulders. Gentle but firm.

"And where do you think you're going, little one?" A familiar cool, bored purr breathed next to my ear.

I spun around to face Pam, placing a hand on my hip and directing the full blast of my rage at her.

"So nice of you to join us, Pam," Eric said from behind me. But, he sounded more amused than upset.

"Oh, yes, Pam," I fumed. "So nice of you to finally join us."

"Now, now," she replied, all innocent smiles and reassuring pats. "Remember, you agreed to have lunch with me and your potential client."

I seethed, and was just about to tell her where she could shove her 'client', when she put her finger to my lips. "Come on Sookie, you and I both know that you would have never agreed to this meeting if I'd actually told you who the client was."

My shoulders slumped in silent agreement, though I wasn't about to admit to anything out loud.

Pam slung her arm around me and guided both of us toward the table. "Just hear him out. You can't refuse him until you at least know what it is exactly you're saying no to."

Flopping down in my chair with resignation, I snatched the menu and hid behind it, trying to ignore my lunch companions for as long as possible. Or at least until I could figure out a decent exit strategy.

Unfortunately, the waitress came to take our orders, and thereafter, our menus, entirely too soon. I knew it was totally childish, but I held onto mine when she reached for it, playing a ridiculous game of tug of war until I was finally able to snap myself out of it with a sheepish, apologetic smile. Sitting next to Pam and across from Eric, sans menu-shield, I couldn't help but feel a bit naked and defenseless. I scanned the room and our table, attempting to find something, anything, to look at but them.

Pam reached out and covered my hand with her own, stilling my fidgeting. "So, would you like to discuss this now, little one, or after we eat?"

Letting out a heavy sigh, I turned my gaze to her. "We may as well get this over with now," I huffed, yanking my hand away. Crossing my arms and leaning as far back and away as my chair would allow, I eyed the both of them and waited.

"Right. Well, Eric here is in need of some photographs for the Fiends promotional calendar," Pam started explaining, and I told myself to focus on one spot, straight ahead of me, so I wouldn't start hyperventilating. Visions of EN, sprawled out in all his naked glory flashed before me.

I was suddenly aware that both Pam and Eric were looking at me, waiting for some sort of response.

"That's what you want to hire me for?" I finally blurted out, glaring at each of them, in turn. "But, I thought that calendar just came out."

"Oh, I am not happy with those pictures," Eric replied with a disgusted wave of his hand.

I couldn't stop the snort that escaped my lips. "Well, I think every red-blooded woman in America—no, scratch that—the world, is quite happy with those pictures."

I swallowed my groan as I saw his smile widen, realizing just a bit too late that I had inadvertently fed his ego. As if he needed it.

"Oh, I have no doubt that it pleases the masses," he said. "But, I am not pleased with the airbrushing hack job they took it upon themselves to do without my approval."

Smirking, I looked him up and down. "Wow, really? Is au naturel Eric Northman not up to industry standards?"

"Oh, it wasn't that kind of airbrushing. Trust me, there is no need for that, Sookie," he replied in a low, provocative voice. He leaned forward, whispering the rest as if it was too horrifying to even speak out loud. "They made it look like I shave. Everywhere."

I rolled my eyes. When that calendar first came out, I thought it was cute when he'd spoken out about this photograph, seeking to assure his fans, without a shadow of a doubt, that he thought hair was sexy—everywhere—and that he would never take a razor to what god had naturally given him. But, to think that he would care enough about it to actually hire a photographer to take a new set of pictures? That seemed borderline narcissistic. And I mean the clinical variety.

"So, naturally, I was the first name that came to mind?" I sneered.

We were interrupted by the arrival of our food. Eric leaned back as the waitress placed a plate in front of him. His eyes locked on mine, waiting until she placed our food on the table and left, before continuing. "I had actually been just halfheartedly looking for a photographer … you know, just keeping an eye out. I wasn't sure exactly what I was looking for, but I was sure I would know it when I saw it."

He paused for a moment to unroll his silverware from the napkin, before returning his gaze to me. "And, as soon as I saw your work—I just knew it."

Hearing Pam snort beside me, I waited for her to explain what she'd found so hilarious. I turned to her after a few moments passed and she hadn't elaborated, only to see her eating her meal. She ignored my glare, and just waved her fork at us, encouraging us to continue.

I turned back to Eric, and had to swallow my incredulity. He, too, was eating as if we had just been shooting the shit, like we had been talking about the weather, or last night's Laker's game.

Sighing, I took my own napkin and set it on my lap. "Well, not that I'm not very flattered by your offer—but, um … well—this isn't really my cup of tea." Ignoring his raised eyebrow, I continued. "Actually, I find it kind of hard to understand how you could like my photos enough to want to hire me, without noticing that I don't do the kind of shots that you're obviously looking for, for this, um … shoot, or whatever."

As soon as I finished, I turned my attention to my food, digging in with ferocity.

"Exactly what kind of shots did you think I was looking for?"

My eyes shot up snaring his gaze, my fork dangling in midair. His eyes danced with amusement as I focused on trying to chew the lead weight in my mouth and swallowing hard before proceeding. "Uh… well, you did mention these were for the Fiends calendar…"

"Right," he replied, his tone making it clear that he was still waiting for clarification.

"Well, whatever. In case you didn't notice, I don't do those flashy, glossy, posed-type photographs."

"Oh? Please do explain, Sookie," he replied. "What kind of photographs do you do?"

I swallowed nervously, feeling suddenly caged. "Look, Eric, I didn't mean any disrespect, or anything. It's just—I've never even used one of those light umbrella thingies, or told someone how to pose. It's not what I do."

He put down his fork, and turned his full attention to me. "Please, do tell. What is it that you do?" he asked silkily.

I gritted my teeth. He certainly wasn't making this any easier for me. He seemed to delight in torturing me. "Well, I just try to capture life, I guess. I don't force it. And, I usually just take pictures of people I'm pretty close to. It's kind of like … a conversation, I guess."

"That's exactly why I noticed and fell in love with your work. And that's exactly why I want to have you take these photos of me."

"But … it's not that easy. I mean, I barely know you," I protested.

"Oh, that could be easily remedied," he replied, waggling his brows suggestively.

"Oh, brother," I moaned, shaking my head.

"Now, now, Eric," Pam interrupted. "Are you trying to convince her, or make the poor little thing run away and hide?"

Eric shot her an annoyed glare, but she turned to face me before continuing. "Honestly, Sookie, even though Eric does seem to have become quite … enamored, I assure you, he was very impressed by your work. And that was the reason, at first, at least, that he wanted to hire you."

I narrowed my eyes at her, then turned to study Eric's face. It was just too implausible, especially since he'd pretty much tried to get in my pants this entire weekend; it just seemed like too convenient a way to keep me around so he could keep trying, probably thinking he could eventually wear me down.

"Sookie, I assure you," he said. "We can keep this strictly professional. If that is what you desire, of course."

I took another bite of my food, and studied him carefully. Better to keep my mouth otherwise occupied until I could figure out the best way to proceed. It seemed to be a genuine offer. But, then again, he was an actor. A very talented actor.

"So, no funny business?"

He chuckled. "Okay, if you insist." After a few moments of blissful silence, he added, "Of course, that still leaves us with one more problem."

I nearly choked on my food, and had to take a few very large gulps of iced tea to push the food down my tight throat. The way he purred the word problem made it seem like he didn't really see it as a problem. I finally managed to croak out, "What problem would that be?"

He smirked. "Oh, well—we're going to have to find a way to get to know each other better. You know, so you can … capture me."

I rolled my eyes again, doing my best to calm my now-labored breathing. Damn him and his sex voice. And those smirking eyes. And … well, never mind. Snap out of it, Sookie. Geesh.

I pulled myself together and faced him. "What exactly did you have in mind, Eric?"

He grinned like a horny teenager discovering his older brother's stash of skin mags—a mixture of glee and sex and anticipation. "Why don't you come over to my home for dinner? That should … break the ice."

"You can't seriously think …." I trailed off, unable to finish my train of thought.

"What? I promise I'll behave." Another suggestive eyebrows waggle.

"Does this routine actually work for you?" I sneered, my lips curling into an undisguised snarl. "A wink here, a brow waggle there, and don't forget to toss in a sexy smirk?"

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. I could almost smell blood, but it only encouraged me to dig in the knife just a little bit deeper. "I already told you—I'm not one of your ho-workers. This crap won't work on me."

Shaking my head, I returned my attention to the food in front of me, doing my damndest to ignore the maniacal cackles issuing from Pam beside me.

My eyes shot up to look at him as I heard his chair scrape loudly against the floor. He had risen to his full and very impressive height, but as my gaze finally reached his face, I couldn't help but feel a painful twinge in my heart at the hurt that I saw there.

"I do hope that you will decide to work with me. I think that it could be beneficial to both of our careers." He bent down to give Pam a quick peck on the cheek before straightening up and turning to go. "I trust that you can make the final arrangements with Pam," he added in a cool, distant tone right before he walked away.

I turned to Pam when I felt her cool hand come to rest on my shoulder. She was still wiping at her tears with her free hand, but her smile was now gone. "Seriously, Sookie … as entertaining as it is to watch, I really do think you should throw the man a bone."

"What?" I huffed with indignation.

"As hard as it may be for you to swallow—a job is a job. You should be pouncing on it." She tucked a stray hand behind my hair, and when I looked into her eyes, I could see the devious glint had returned to them. "But, just because it's a job, doesn't mean you can't have fun."

A/N Well that was a fun lunch date, wasn't it? Now go ahead and make me (and EN, of course) happy -- press that little green button and let me know what you thought.

How would you like to be in a dark room with Alexander Skarsgrad? *giggles* No! Not that kind of darkroom, silly! If you want to see AS's new film, Beyond the Pole, at your local theater you can help by going to the facebook fanpage:

http://www . facebook . com/permalink . php?story_fbid=270729477299&id=172486521602 (just take out the dots, as always)

They need 10,000 fans, and are currently around 2,000!