Mr Right There All Along

She waited for humor to leak into his expression, for the corners of his mouth to quirk in a well-remembered smile. But a full minute ticked past and Simon remained stoic, his countenance as unyielding as that of a tombstone.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked at last.

“I want you to say that you believe me when I tell you that you look fine just as you are.”

“I do believe you,” she assured him.

Well, sort of. Mostly. But he was her friend, her pal, her bud and BFF. People with those titles were known to lie. Which was why on days when Chloe was feeling particularly insecure about her body, she peppered Simon with questions such as, “Do these pants make my butt look big?”

No woman in her right mind asked that question of someone they thought might actually tell them the truth. Besides, the man regularly dated lingerie models.

He squinted sideways at her. “You do?”

She nodded to add emphasis. “Of course, I do.” All the while, she was thinking, he had to be lying.

The rigid set of his shoulders relaxed fractionally. Simon really did have nice shoulders and the cotton pullover he was wearing did them justice. It was just snug enough to show off some of the definition that his regular workouts had created.

“Mmm.”

His brows tugged together. “Chloe?”

Good God! What was she thinking? Bad, bad Chloe.

“Hmm. I said, hmm. You know, it’s a kind of humming sound that can be taken for, um, well, an affirmation.” Or the prelude to an orgasm. Though she was barely managing to tread water, she decided to dive in again. “As in, I believe you when you say that I look fine.”