“Why not?”

She chewed on her bottom lip as if trying to decide whether or not he was genuinely interested, and Cash suddenly remembered that comment she’d made when they’d first met, about how nobody in her family took her seriously. Maybe she was worried he’d make fun of her work and belittle her hobby.

“Come on,” he pressed. “I’d love to take a look.”

“Um. Okay.” She shifted the laptop so they could both see the screen. “These are some shots I took in January when I went to a resort in Jamaica.”

Cash leaned in, expecting to find postcard-perfect shots of swaying palm trees, sandy white beaches and a calm ocean, but that was not the case. At all.

“What the hell kind of resort did you to go?” he asked suspiciously, his gaze focused on the desolate scene before him.

She offered a sheepish look. “I didn’t spend much time on the resort. But don’t tell my brother,” she added quickly. “Carson and my parents think I take these yearly sun-and-fun vacations for the, well, sun and fun.”

Her fingers traveled over the laptop’s track pad to scroll through the pictures. Cash was blown away. Some of the pictures were in color, others in black and white, but all displayed images he hadn’t expected. Several featured a little boy, not older than five or six, with dirt on his face and crooked teeth bared in a big grin. In one the boy sat on the dirt, playing with marbles. In another, he dashed toward a small hut with a tin roof and made of rotting wood that looked about to collapse. The last shot showed the boy weaving through piles of garbage, while black flies hovered around him.

Cash frowned. “Where was this taken?”

“In a little town outside of Kingston. Poverty is their way of life. But Marcus—that’s the kid in the picture—he was the sweetest kid I’d ever met. Smiling all the time, despite it all.”

“What the hell were you thinking, walking around in places like these? You should’ve stayed at the hotel where it was safe.”

She didn’t even have the decency to look contrite. “There’s only so many times you can ooh and aah at the ocean. Besides, I’m easily bored. Lying on the beach all day for a week isn’t my thing. I want to see and do things I’ve never experienced before. So if it means stepping out of my comfort zone and visiting a poor village, or checking out the ganja shops in Kingston—”

“What?”

“Or visiting sugar cane fields in Haiti, ancient ruins in Mexico…” She trailed off with a shrug. “And you’ve got to admit, it makes for more interesting pictures.”

She kept scrolling through photos, and Cash couldn’t fight the disapproval bubbling in his gut. When he saw a series of photographs that looked like they’d been taken in the middle of a full-blown riot, he let out an expletive and scowled at Jen.

“So you take these trips, tell your family you’re sun-tanning at a resort, and then you disappear into some of the most dangerous areas in those damn countries?”

“Pretty much.”

His jaw tensed. “That’s beyond foolish, Jen. It’s downright reckless.”

“I’m careful,” she insisted. “I hire a respectable cab driver recommended by the resort staff, I don’t go off into dark alleys alone—I don’t go out after dark at all, in fact. And I’ve been trained in self-defense. I’m not some weak little twit who can’t take care of herself.”

“Then why are you lying to your family about what you really do on these trips?”

“Because unfortunately, they think I’m a weak little twit who can’t take care of herself. So rather than try to change their minds, I let them think what they want and do my own thing.” She studied his face. “Disapproval of my tactics aside, what do you think of these pictures? Honestly?”

Cash sighed. “They’re incredible.”

A blush dotted her cheeks. “Are you just saying that?”

“No. If anything, I’m tempted to tell you they suck ass, just so you’d quit putting yourself in potentially dangerous situations,” he grumbled. “But I can’t lie to you. These photographs are…spectacular.”

The joy that flooded her eyes bugged him a little. Was this the first time anyone had complimented her work? If so, that was a damn shame. The pictures on the screen were crisp, stark, unforgiving—she didn’t use any fancy techniques or filters to pretty up her subjects. She simply captured what she saw and forced you to look at it. Really look at it.

“Why aren’t you working for some big-time magazine or newspaper?” he asked in bewilderment.

Jen looked startled. “I do this for fun. I have a blog where I upload pictures, but it’s just a hobby. Other than the people who go on my blog, you’re the first person I’ve ever shown my pictures to.”

“You seriously haven’t shown these to anyone other than me?”

Her brows furrowed. “Why do you look so pissed?”

“I’m not pissed. I’m stunned.” He shook his head. “You should be doing this professionally, sweetheart. Forget blogging, your work needs to be hanging in a gallery. Or on the cover of National Geographic or something.”

She stared at him as if he’d just told her she’d won the lottery. “You really think that?”

“Hell yes.”

“I never thought…wow.” Her voice wobbled. “Thank you.”