Page 7 of The Girlfriend Zone

I raise my hand to knock, and the door swings open.

Fuck me, she’s gorgeous. A black shirt slopes down hershoulder, exposing creamy flesh I want to kiss. Long jeans dust the floor, and I bet they’d look greatonthe floor too. The silver bracelets jangling on her wrists draw attention to the fine black lines of the flower patterns crawling up her forearms. But my eyes keep returning to her face. Chestnut waves frame her high cheekbones while long silver teardrops dangle from her ears. Her pink lips are slick with gloss. Her eyes are big, beautiful pools of blue. They flicker in surprise, but also with something like intrigue.

She tilts her head, her long earrings dangling. Her smile takes its sweet time forming as she looks me up and down slowly, like she’s savoring a scotch, taking a bite of decadent chocolate, watching a sunrise. “It’s you.”

“It’s me.”

“Did you bring your opinions?” she asks.

“Only if you brought yours.”

“I guess we’ll see.” She lifts her index finger, gesturing to my face. Her nails are polished in shiny black. “You didn’t have on glasses the other day.”

“You noticed.”

“I’m a photographer. It’s my job to notice things.”

“Are the glasses a problem? I can manage without them for the shoot.”

She studies me like she enjoys the question, or maybe making me wait for her answer. Finally, she gives a flirty shrug. “There might be a glare but I can edit it out. They’re too sexy to take off.”

I don’t smile nearly as broadly as I want to. “I knew I’d appreciate your opinions.”

“Well, then.” She holds the door open. “Come in and stay a while.”

“I think I will.”

I step inside and look around.

Wow.

This isn’t a date, but it’s the perfect setting for one. From the bed at the center with its satiny duvet to the sapphire blue chaise longue to the ruby red chair and white, fluffy rug, the studio oozes sensual vibes.

And if there were ever a better wingman than this studio—or wingwoman—I wouldn’t believe it.

4

STOP THINKING OF ARTICHOKES AND HOT MEN

Leighton

I have the feeling that Birdie is up to something. It couldn’t be that she sent her ridiculously hot grandson to be an underwear stand-in. Not a random grandson, either, but the guy who wasthis closeto asking me out the last time we crossed paths.

As someone who adores her own Grams, I have mad respect for this level of matchmaking puppetry.

Only I don’t have time for it right now. Katrina will be here in twenty minutes, and this shoot is too important for me to get lost in the flirting zone with this hot chef with his hot, thigh-hugging jeans, and the shirt sleeves that can’t hide the breadth of his biceps or the strength of his shoulders. The rolled cuffs reveal a leather bracelet and a tattoo of an arrow on the fair skin of his muscular forearm. He looks strong for a chef. Must be all those cast-iron skillets he lifts. Yes, this man can cook me artichokes anytime.

Stop thinking of artichokes and hot men.

I shake off thoughts of two of my favorite things and get down to brass tacks.

“Birdie told you about the shoot?” I’d bet she didn’t disclose much.

“She said you’re a boudoir photographer,” Miles says, gesturing to the studio space, with its bed and plush furniture meant to showcase sensuality and luxury. “But I can pick up the context clues too.”

I toss him a look. Hush Hush studio is run by a more seasoned photographer who is, of course, not here at the moment because I’ve booked it for the rest of the day. But he doesn’t need the details of just how new I am to the job. I’ve got a few gigs under my belt as well as my assistant work. And, really, Iama boudoir photographer, though it’s not all I shoot.

I gesture to the emerald velvet curtains, then the red satin sheets. “Did something give it away?” I ask innocently, looking at him when I talk. I find that oftentrainspeople to do the same for me, before I know them well enough to ask them to look my way. It’s a tricky balance since some men misread prolonged eye contact. But if I don’t look at him, I might miss something he says. My hearing loss is only moderate, so I can hear well enough but it’s still helpful to see someone’s facial expressions and their lips moving as they talk. Those details can fill in the gaps with softer sounds that are harder to hear.

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