“What are we raising the money for, anyway?” The friend comment stung a little, but she wanted to ke
ep the conversation going. She loved the sound of his voice.
“I’m not sure; I’ll have to read the flyer again. Hey, you never answered me, though, about what you were doing for V-day.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket as he spoke, and she wondered if he really cared or was just being polite.
“Probably sit at home with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked. Maybe cry pathetically while watching The Notebook.” She gave him a brilliant smile when he looked up quickly.
He flashed her a sheepish grin. “Touché. Hey, since neither one of us has plans, why don’t we grab dinner or something? We could talk about how bitter we are, and maybe watch a horror movie. Anti-Valentine’s Day. It could be fun.”
Yeah because that wouldn’t be awkward. Going out with him on the most romantic day of the year and pretending that she wasn’t wishing that they were out on a real date. “Sounds like a blast, but I think I’ll pass.”
“Well the invitations there if you change your mind. We could mock all the stupid couples in the movie that try to sacrifice themselves to save their lovers.” He let out a diabolical evil villain laugh.
Gregg could be such a goofball. She shook her head, still smiling as she said, “Yes because that’s not morbid, to laugh when someone dies by an axe to the head.”
“That’s the point! ’Cause if we were ever in a horror movie, we’d survive because we don’t have anyone.”
His argument made her even more depressed. “Awesome. I’ll remember that when Freddy comes for me in my dreams.”
He laughed and patted her shoulder. “That’s the spirit! I’ll see you later.”
“See ya.”
Her shoulder felt the weight of his hand even after he turned to walk toward the parking lot. Actually, his gait was much sexier than a mere walk, and she admired the way he moved until he disappeared into the parked cars in the lot. She finally turned away to head toward the studio, her expression grim. She was actually surprised that no one had snapped Gregg up, especially considering how many women stopped by for package pricing but never wanted to speak to her. She crossed the street and walked by the empty shop next door, noticing the lights were on. Inside, she saw a lean guy with dark spiky hair moving boxes around.
He was good-looking, thinner than Gregg, but his arms were nicely defined and they flexed with each box he lifted under the gray T-shirt he wore. He glanced up through the glass and his eyes locked on her watching him. She felt her cheeks flame in embarrassment, turned and hurried toward the safety of the studio.
Great, now the guy was going to think she was some kind of weird voyeur.
Once inside, she moved passed Gregg’s desk to her own, sliding her jacket off and over the back of her chair. She walked back to the little kitchen area and pulled a Coke from the fridge. A picture of Gregg and Mike from New Year’s caught her eye, and her whole body tingled as her thoughts drifted to their one and only kiss.
She’d been standing in the corner away from everyone, holding a glass of champagne in her right hand, wearing black wool pants, a silver satin button-up top, and her plain black cardigan. She’d only showed up because Stephanie Brown had caught her in a weak, lonely moment, and she didn’t want to spend the evening in her I Love Sushi pajamas with a bag of chili-flavored Fritos in her lap.
“You look like you’re having a blast.”
Her eyes had popped up toward the deep voice, to find Gregg smiling down at her.
She had been tempted to throw her arms around him in gratitude. Most of the people she knew at the Browns’ New Year’s Eve party had stopped trying to hold onto a conversation with her by their third shot. Recovering from her initial excitement, she quipped, “Oh yeah, awesome. Time of my life.”
Then the voices around them started shouting.
“Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .”
Gregg shocked her when he reached out to trail his hand against her cheek.
“Seven . . . six . . . five . . .”
Ryan hadn’t even registered that his mouth was descending down toward her parted lips.
“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.