Every Woman's Fantasy

Ashley studied her for a long moment. “No, I guess not.” She sighed. “It’s not his mind that concerns me.”

“I know,” Charlie said with a grin.

“And besides the obvious, I don’t want him to break your heart, either.”

“He won’t. I know he won’t.”

“I hope you’re right. Here. Let me adjust that neckline again.”

ONCE THE WOMEN were out of earshot, Sam leaned across the table. “It’s a damned good thing I came along, buddy boy, or you would be toast. Now, here’s the plan. Under no circumstances are you to continue looking at her cleavage. Otherwise you are so dead.”

Mark laughed in disbelief. “Not look? Are you insane? Why not tell me to do a few gymnastics while hanging from the chandelier? That would be a hell of a lot easier.”

Sam blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair. “I get your point, but we’ve got to neutralize the effect of that dress.”

“Unless you plan to make her wear your sport coat and put it on backward, I don’t know how you’re gonna neutralize anything. I think we’ll just have to live with the situation.” Mark wasn’t particularly upset with that prospect. He thought it would be a crime to cover Charlie, sort of like throwing a blanket over one of those nude statues outside the door.

“Man, I never expected an outdoor adventure guide to show up in an outfit like that.”

Mark decided not to tell Sam that he’d known about the dress all along. He also knew the color of her panties. Charlie’s last letter to him had been filled with spicy little details like that. They’d been taunting each other with increasingly erotic messages. No, he’d better not tell Sam about that.

He decided to ease around to a different topic. “Don’t forget that she is an outdoor adventure guide. Don’t forget all the reasons why you advised me to write to her. She’s everything I hoped for, and then some. To find out how beautiful and sexy she is in person is icing on the cake, because I was already convinced she was perfect for me.”

“I do have a good feeling about this one,” Sam admitted. “Still, I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you put off the proposal for as long as possible.”

The waiter arrived with leather-bound menus, but Mark left his closed. He didn’t really care about the food, anyway. “Tell you what. I’ll do my best to ignore her cleavage,” he said by way of trying to pacify Sam.

“Like you said, easier said than done.” Sam opened his menu.

“I’ll do my best. So, what did you think of Ashley?”

Immediately Sam glanced up from his perusal of the menu. Then he tried to look casual and nonchalant, the way he always did when he was intensely interested in a woman. “She’s okay.” He looked down at the menu again.

“Okay? Just okay? I don’t think there’s a woman you’ve dated in the past five years that compares to her. And how about those eyes? Are those the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen, or what?”

Sam shrugged and continued to examine the menu. “I guess. But what difference does it make? She’s not breaking out in a rash, so she must not find me attractive.”

Mark thought fast. Sam had a very tender ego, and whenever he thought a woman wasn’t returning his interest, he bailed. If a woman played hard to get, then Sam didn’t pursue her. He hoped Ashley wasn’t into those kinds of games. “Um, I think Charlie said the rash appears on her…cheeks,” he said.

“There was no rash on her cheeks.”

“Her other cheeks.”

Sam looked up. “Oh.” He gazed at Mark for a couple of seconds. “That’s kind of weird, don’t you think?”

“Stress affects everybody differently. She might have dragged Charlie into the ladies’ room because her rash was starting to bother her.”

Sam closed the menu and laid it beside his plate. “No, she dragged Charlie into the ladies’ room because you were starting to bother her. She’s protective of her little sister, and I don’t blame her.”

“There, see? That’s a point scored by Ashley right off the bat. She’s protective of her family members. You’re protective of your family members. I remember when that kid tried to beat up your little brother and you got all over—”

“Let’s get back to the subject at hand—which is her rash problem. You told me this rash of hers is a social embarrassment. If it only shows up on her backside, I don’t understand how that would be an embarrassment, because nobody except her would even know about it.”

“Of course it would be a problem.” It was a good thing he was used to dealing with Sam’s lawyerly logic. “If she’s attracted to someone, that means that eventually she’d want to get physical with them, and yet she couldn’t allow that to happen, because then the guy would see her rash.”

“Oh.” Sam frowned. “I still think there’s something fishy about all of this. But in some stupid way, it makes sense. I can’t imagine any other reason why a woman who looks like Ashley would agree to a blind date. She should have guys coming out of the woodwork.”

“Aha! So you do think she’s gorgeous.”

“From what I can see. Of course I’m picturing this rash, and that’s not exactly a turn-on, if you get my drift.”

Mark was working hard not to laugh. He thought this whole thing was hilarious, and he hoped someday Sam would enjoy the joke as much as Mark did right now. “Maybe she’s got the rash situation under control,” he said. “Maybe she’s very attracted to you, and yet she’s not breaking out. If that’s the case, you would want to continue to help her along with her recovery, wouldn’t you?”

Sam rubbed his chin. “You’re up to something, O’Grady. I figure it’s based on fixing me up with Ashley so you can sneak off with Charlie and do the nasty.”

“Not the nasty.” Mark held up both hands when Sam lifted his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe a word. “Really. I’m not going to do the nasty. But I’d like to kiss her, at least, which could be difficult if you and Ashley are watching us every damned minute. I wouldn’t mind having the two of you talk among yourselves sometime during the evening.”

“You plan to start making out with Charlie right here at the table?”

“Of course not! I thought later we might go dancing.”

“Dancing? With her in that dress? Or sort of in that dress? I don’t think so, Mark, old boy. You would—”

“Whoops, here they come. Now if you want to know if Ashley’s attracted to you or not, look at her lipstick. If she globbed some more on while she was in the bathroom, then that means she wants you.”

“You’ve said that before when we were out with women, and I think you’re making it up. Women put on lipstick for no reason. They put on lipstick to go to the grocery store, for crying out loud. I never understood that.”

“Because they might meet a hot prospect at the grocery store, that’s why,” Mark said. “Lipstick is part of that whole mating thing. Remember, we saw that on the Discovery Channel. Look at the lipstick.”

“How do I know if she put it on for me? Maybe she wants the waiter really bad. Or the maître d’, although personally I think he’s a little old for—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Sam. I swear you’d make a sow’s ear out of a silk purse.” Then he got out of his chair so he could help his fabulous Lady in Red into her seat. And his vow not to look at her cleavage didn’t last even for a second. But he rationalized that she’d worn the dress on purpose to make him notice, so if he didn’t, she’d be disappointed.

He didn’t want to disappoint this woman. Not ever. And that was why he would be a good boy tonight and just enjoy the view from a distance.

“Did you get whatever it was out of your eye?” Sam asked Ashley, peering intently at her face.

Mark looked, too, and saw the fresh shine of new lipstick. Way to go, Ashley. Then he glanced over at Charlie and was gratified to see that she’d added more of that tomato-red color to her mouth. He’d ten times rather spend the next hour kissing that plump little mouth than eating pasta.

“My eye’s fine,” Ashley said. “Probably an eyelash or something.”

“I can see how that would happen. Your eyelashes are pretty long,” Sam said.

Good, Mark thought. Sam liked long eyelashes. Charlie’s eyelashes were long, too, and she had mascara on them. Blondes usually used the stuff, he knew, because without mascara their eyelashes didn’t stand out so much.

He’d like to see Charlie without her mascara, though. No doubt she’d look perfectly fine. He’d like to see her without her clothes, too. She’d look more than perfectly fine without her clothes.

But he wouldn’t be doing that this weekend. No sir. So he’d content himself with simply sitting and watching Charlie. Somehow he managed to order his meal and make a wine decision, but he couldn’t remember his choices thirty seconds after he’d made them.