“Yes, it’s very formal, black tie, that kind of thing. Do you have something to wear?”
“Actually, I do,” she said.
“It can’t have shoulder pads and purple ruffles,” he said quickly.
She laughed. God, her laugh was nice.
“It doesn’t,” she said.
“Okay, we’ll stop at your place on the way so you can get ready,” he suggested.
She nodded at him. “Is that all?”
“For now,” he said.
“For now?” She looked at him and smiled. Sexy, flirty, cute.
“For now,” he repeated slowly, not caring that his voice had taken on a low, husky tone and that his eyes were probably telling her exactly what he was thinking.
She blushed. “Okay, I better go. I have work to do, and I wouldn’t want my boss to get angry if I don’t finish.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” he said.
She walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, he felt her absence acutely, on a physical level. He was in trouble here. He knew it. He was in danger of liking Doris bloody Granger way more than he should like her. He felt he was on the verge of putting aside all the beliefs that he’d clung to for the last five years, for her. The beliefs that had been drummed into him by his father:don’t mix business with pleasure.But there was still something inside him, a small voice telling him not to cross that line. The voice was getting softer by the day, but it was still there. Somewhere in the back of his mind, reminding him, stopping him every time he reached that point with her. He wondered how much longer he would be able to listen to it, though? Because it was getting harder by the second.
CHAPTERSIXTY-FOUR
Poppy
There was something strangely sexy about being half naked with Ryan Stark only a few feet away. Sure, we were separated by my bathroom door, but still. I’d climbed out of my clothes and was standing in my underwear. I leaned against the door to see if I could hear him, and when I could, the desire to walk out like that, wearing almost nothing, was overwhelming. But I didn’t.
I stepped into my dress; it was the only smart dress I owned, also a prop from the TV show. This one was at least decent, maybe the only decent thing I’d worn on the show. After my character had viciously been killed off, they’d decided to bring her back for one episode only, in which I’d come back as a ghost in a terrifying dream. The dress I’d worn in the ghostly dream sequence, where I had nearly choked at the amount of smoke and dry ice they had pumped into the air to make the atmosphere mysterious and terrifying, was a long, black dress. I think the wardrobe department had intended it to be scary, like something Morticia Addams might have worn, but actually it was more sexy than scary. It was black, skin-tight and long, with a low, swooping neckline.
I turned my attention to my make-up. Since the show had been so low budget, they hadn’t been able to afford a make-up artist, so the actors had done their own. I’d gotten quite good at it over the time. I picked up my cosmetic bag and started on my winged black eyeliner, and once that was done, I moved onto my red lipstick. I ran a brush through my long hair and let it fall naturally over my shoulders. My hair was thick and wavy and usually very badly behaved. If I tried to do things with it, it just rebelled like a defiant teenager.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked good, I just wondered if I looked good enough for a fancy charity event. I’d never been to such a thing in my life before. The whole idea was so foreign to me. And to make it worse, Ryan looked good tonight. Really, really good. I’d picked up a suit for him—no washing powder this time—and he looked amazing in it. I opened the bathroom door and walked out. Ryan sat on the edge of my bed and as soon as I walked out, he looked up. The look on his face stole my breath. I froze to the spot. He looked shocked, and I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing, or a bad thing.
“Do I . . . uh, look okay?” I asked.
He started nodding his head. The silence was deafening.
“Is it bad?” I asked, pulling at my dress.
“No! No!” He stepped forward quickly and started shaking his head from side to side. “No.”
“Uh . . .no, I do look okay, orno, I don’t look okay?”
“No, you look good,” he quickly said. “You look very good.”
CHAPTERSIXTY-FIVE
Ryan
Good.Was he joking?
She didn’t look good. In fact, she looked nothing likegood. Her look was so NOT good right now that he didn’t think he knew what to do with himself. There was nothing good about any of this. At all.
She looked . . .fuck, she looked amazing. Sophisticated. Beautiful. Elegant. Everything about her right now wasnotgood. Except for the feelings rushing through him, those felt good. Feelings that had been lying dormant for so long were suddenly stirring, like something waking up after a long, cold hibernation.
