The Trouble with Sexy (2 page)

“Four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . Happy New Year!”

Loud music hummed in her head as the first brush of his kiss made her eyes flutter closed. The music and cheers drained away, and all she'd been aware of was the taste of Gregg, the feel of his tongue as it swept inside to play with hers, and the rough hand that cupped her cheek. She swayed toward his warmth and could have stayed like that forever if he hadn't pulled back.

Her eyes had been unwilling to open and break the spell his kiss weaved over her, until his voice broke through her daze. “Happy New Year, Ryan.”

Finally she'd looked up at him, trying to form the words. What did it mean? Was it just a traditional kiss? While her brain tried to form a coherent thought, a petite brunette grabbed Gregg by the arm and threw herself against his body, plastering her mouth on his.

Ryan had brushed past them quickly, before they broke apart and Gregg caught the tears forming in her eyes.

She'd driven home from the party and ended up exactly where she'd been trying to avoid—on the couch, in I love Sushi pajamas, with handfuls of Fritos shoved into her open mouth.

The bell on the studio door jingled, drawing her back to the present, and Ryan took a steadying breath.

Stop dwelling on it. He's your boss and your friend. That's it. Get over it.

“T
HAT'S GREAT, YOU
guys. Now Mr. Andrews, why don't you put your arm around her and give her a kiss?”

Jim Andrews gave his wife a lecherous grin and said, “Come here and give me some sugar.”

Marcie Andrews turned her cheek up for his lips and Jim kissed it with a chuckle. Gregg snapped the smiling Marcie and looked down at his camera. “Okay, so I have about a hundred pictures. Why don't you come by tomorrow afternoon around two and I'll show you the top thirty? You can choose your prints then.”

“But we're getting a CD right? Can't we just print the ones we want?” Mrs. Andrews asked, her head cocked to the side innocently.

Gregg wanted to growl at her in frustration. He'd told Mrs. Andrews when she made the appointment that it was $125 for him to come out for an hour and snap around a hundred photos. The package she'd picked included twenty prints and the CD. The prints were included, so even if she didn't want them, it didn't lower the price.

“Like I explained on the phone Mrs. Andrews, the prints are free with the package you chose. If you chose not to take them, that's up to you.” He tried to stay friendly even though she made him crazy. He knew his photo packages were reasonable compared to some photographers. Plus he normally threw in a little something extra like a framed eight-by-ten, but right now Mrs. Andrews wasn't exactly on his favorite customer list.

Mr. Andrews gave his wife a stern look and she snapped whatever she was about to say back into her mouth with a pout. Mr. Andrews turned with a smile on his craggy face. “That's fine, Gregg, we appreciate it. Thanks for coming out.”

Gregg smiled in return, liking the easygoing dairy farmer. “Thank you, Mr. Andrews. Mrs. Andrews, it was a pleasure. You folks have a nice day and I'll see you love birds tomorrow.”

The older couple smiled at him as he gathered up his equipment and headed for his blue Chevy Tahoe. He waved good-bye again from the front seat and put the car in reverse, looking over his shoulder. He noticed the scrap of black in the backseat and cursed. He'd meant to give Ryan back the sweater she left in his car after the Wilder wedding, but he kept forgetting. It had nothing to do with the fact that the sweet smell of her perfume reminded him of the one kiss they'd shared at the Browns' New Year's Eve party.

Gregg constantly tried to talk himself out of his feelings, but every time he was with her, he couldn't help liking her. Even when he'd gone on his one and only date with Gracie McAllister, he'd spent most of the evening comparing Gracie's boisterous personality and raw sexuality to Ryan's snarky comebacks and quiet appeal. It had only stung his pride that Gracie had never returned his phone call. He'd just called to tell her he had a nice time, but from what he'd heard around, that was usual with her. It was just more fun for him to tease Ryan about Gracie, since the pretty barrista seemed to annoy Ryan, and Ryan was awfully cute when she was annoyed.

Suggesting that they spend Valentine's Day together had been a spur of the moment thing, but he was surprised when she'd said no. He always had fun with Ryan and considered her a good friend. He'd figured she felt that way too. Had she lied about having plans? Was she seeing someone and just hadn't wanted to share it with him? A little niggle of something unpleasant churned in his abdomen, something that felt a bit like jealousy, and he tried to shake it off. Ryan wasn't a liar, and she had no reason to lie about her plans. Maybe she just wanted to be alone.

He pulled out onto Oak Avenue toward the studio and made the right onto Main Street. Parallel parking, he rushed into the office before the cold wind hit him. The bell chiming overhead and Ryan's voice carried from the back room.

“I'll be right with you!”

“It's just me.”

Ryan peeked around the corner, her blue eyes filled with relief. “Oh thank God! Could you hand me my jacket on the back of the chair?”

“Sure, what's going on?”

Gregg came around the corner and nearly swallowed his tongue. Ryan was wearing the same type of wool slacks she wore to work most days, her flame red hair pulled back into a no nonsense bun and her face free of any makeup. Her nose had a little bump on the bridge, and she had a heart-shaped face with full lips. His eyes traveled down to where her buttoned-to-the-neck top should have been and instead, in its place, a slinky white camisole showed a lot more than it covered. It was usually hard to discern what her figure looked like under her drab clothes, but in the tight top tucked into the slacks he could see that her breasts were firm, more than a handful, and it made his palms itch to reach out and cup them. Her waist was slim and indented, and if he had to hazard a guess, they probably flared quite nicely under the sexless pants.

His imagination was taking a dangerous turn and his mouth dried out as he pictured her in nothing but that sexy little see-through top. When he opened his mouth to speak, it came out a little ragged. “What happened to your shirt?”

“Oh good, you brought my sweater.” Oblivious to his pained expression, she grabbed the cardigan and slipped it over her arms and shoulders. She buttoned the sweater, covering the upper portion of bare skin he'd been admiring, and said, “While Cammie and Joel picked out the pictures they wanted, I offered to hold Dylan, and the little booger puked on me. I tried to just wipe it off, but apparently baby puke is toxic. I couldn't get the smell to go away and it was making my stomach turn.”

He tried to forget about what he'd seen under the dowdy black sweater, and choked out, “So is it just the puke you object to? Or is it the actual kid you find distasteful?”

She shook her head and walked around him. “No, I love kids. I would love some of my own someday, lots of them, but the only puke I want to clean off me is theirs. Or my husband's, depending on how much I love him.”

He wasn't sure he'd ever love anyone enough to let them puke on him. He tried imagining Ryan sitting in a rocking chair surrounded by a dozen little cherub faces, and the scene made him smile. She'd make a wonderful mother, being so patient with the kids who came into the studio.

“So how many is a lot?”

She smiled as she sat down at her computer. “I don't know, maybe four? I always wanted a big family. My mom had complications when she had me so she could never have any more kids, and it was always kind of lonely by myself. We didn't live in a neighborhood, so I didn't really get to have friends until school, and I had a few really great ones but I was always a little . . . awkward.”

Gregg knew that Ryan had a hard time talking to people outside of her job, and it always puzzled him. She had been a little nervous during her interview with him when she responded to his help wanted ad, but she warmed up quickly. Of course, they had been talking about photography, which Ryan was very passionate about, but after that he hadn't had any trouble having a conversation with her. In fact, she was actually really funny and could give as good as she got.

This wasn't the first time Ryan had brought up her awkwardness, and for some reason, the thought that she couldn't see herself the way he did bothered him. To him she was funny, sweet, and easy to talk to. Their constant banter was one of the things he looked forward to most days.

He leaned over her shoulder and whispered, “Well I don't know if it counts for anything, but I think that you have definitely grown out of your awkward stage.”

She looked up at him. “You really don't think I'm awkward?”

He stared down at her, drowning in her eyes. “Not at all.”

She swallowed a little. “Gregg, we're friends right?”

He cocked his head and gave her a small smile. “Of course.”

She twisted her hands in her lap. “And you'll be honest with me?”

He sat on her desk and nodded. “Sure.”

She cleared her throat and whispered, “Do you think I'm sexy?”

He froze above her and his mind started searching for something to say.

She turned away from him quickly. “I'm sorry, please forget I said anything.”

He hadn't liked the flash of hurt in her eyes, and blurted, “No! I mean, you just surprised me. I think you have a lot of really great qualities. You're smart. You're funny. You are really artistic. You're attractive. You have a great work ethic. You're a good person.” He paused and took in her blank expression. “Yes, you're sexy.”

He could tell by the look on her face that she didn't believe him, so he continued, “The trouble with sexy is people have different tastes. Some guys like girls in flashy skimpy clothes with big hair and cowboy boots. Other guys think shy girls that are less obvious are more desirable. Some guys check out a woman's body and others look at her face. It's all about personal preference.”

“What kind of girls do you like?”

Was she kidding? He didn't really have a type, unless you counted busty redheads with blue eyes that liked to wear a lot of wool, but he wasn't about to say that. Besides accepting his kiss at New Years, Ryan had been nothing but professional, and a good friend. He wasn't going to jeopardize that by opening his big fat mouth. “I like girls who are confident. They need to be funny and like the same things I do—”

She interrupted him. “Yeah, but that's not what makes you approach her right? Are you a leg man or a breast man?”

“What?” He couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped.

“It's a simple question. Does a girl that walks into a bar wearing a miniskirt get you going or a low-cut top?”

This conversation was leading into some very dangerous areas, but he answered her anyway. “Low-cut top.”

She blushed at his quick reply, and at that moment he'd have given more than a penny to get a real good look at those thoughts.

R
YAN LOCKED UP
the studio at five o'clock and gasped as a blast of frigid air hit her face. Maybe it would help to take her mind off the sting of humiliation she still felt from Gregg's good-natured attempt to spare her feelings. Attractive? Great work ethic? Really? Funny how he'd almost choked when he tried to assure her she was sexy. She knew she wasn't out-of-this-world gorgeous, but he could have done better than a gargled attempt to save her ego.

Thank God Mr. Francini had come in to ask Gregg to take pictures of some vandalism he was sure had been perpetrated by Mr. Nelson. The two men had been involved in a vindictive feud for the last fifteen years, and were constantly blaming each other for phantom acts of theft and sabotage. Gregg and Mr. Francini had walked out of the studio, and she was left alone to dwell on her very big problem. If she didn't make a change soon, she was going to end up being the lonely, bitter woman Gregg teased her about: eating ice cream every night, wondering why she couldn't find someone to love her.

She hadn't exactly been honest with Gregg. She would have been excited about Valentine's Day if she had a special someone to share it with. She was tired of being alone, and wanted to find someone. Someone who wanted to get married and have a family, someone who would love her for all her snark and insecurities. But that type of man was hard to come by. Especially when you had the sex appeal of a hermit crab.

She smiled over the analogy and thought of her large cardigans and high-necked tops as her protective shells. Her mother had never thought clothes that were in style were appropriate for her little girl, being too short and too revealing, and she'd urged her to earn respect based on her mind rather than her looks. Ryan had learned the lesson too well. She continued to dress conservatively, even though she'd watched the girls in stylish dresses and boots longingly. She once tried on a tight black dress at Macy's for a date, and loved the feel of the soft material hugging her body, but all she could think of as she stared at herself in the mirror was her mother's voice:
Guys like a little something left to the imagination. Those are the type of girls they want to bring home to their mothers
. She'd put the dress back on the rack and walked out empty-handed.

Her mother failed to mention that mothers might love conservatively dressed girls, but their sons sure didn't.

She walked toward her Rav4 in The Local Bean parking lot and noticed that Gracie was just coming out of the shop. She was dressed in a tight-fitting red sweater dress, black tights, and knee-high black suede boots. Her blond hair was perfectly flipped, and Ryan was sure that her face was just as perfect. She envied the confident way Gracie held herself, and thought if she just had a little bit of that, maybe Gregg would look at her differently.