“It is a big deal. I thought I had exactly fifteen men and fifteen women. Now I have
sixteen women, but only fourteen men. I need to come up with two more available men
before tomorrow, and I need to figure out where to squeeze in an extra table.”
Ryan touched her shoulder. “Breathe. It’s not a big deal. Shit happens. Maybe someone
won’t show and it’ll even out.”
Her shoulders relaxed a bit. “You’re right. I’ll send out e-mail confirmations to
the list and see where I am. I want this to be a success.” She reclaimed her seat
and opened her laptop.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He moved toward the back.
“Hey, can I use you as a fill-in if I need to?”
“Hell no.”
She laughed. “Why not? You’re unattached. If you’re a participant, Quinn would be
forced to talk to you for a full three minutes.” She turned back to the computer with
a knowing smile.
He hated she saw right through him. Mary was like the big sister he never had. Or
wanted. He had enough sibling issues.
The thought barely left his head when the back door swung open, flooding the dark
hallway with sunlight. Colin strode in whistling an obnoxiously happy tune.
“Hi, boss. How are you this fine morning?” he asked with a fake brogue.
“Can the leprechaun shit. What are you doing here?” Ryan opened his office door and
walked in, expecting Colin to follow.
“Mary called me in for some extra hours. She needs tables pulled from storage and
cleaned.”
Ryan tossed his keys on the desk. “Fine. Get to work. Mary’s at the bar.”
“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. What’s her name?”
Ryan turned back. Colin leaned against the door frame, relaxed and waiting for gossip.
“Who?”
“Whoever has you so twisted up you’re snapping at me.”
“No one. There’s no one.”
Colin straightened. “Maybe that’s the problem.” He walked away and his whistled tune
echoed in the empty hall.
Colin was right. He had to work out the funk he was in.
He didn’t know where to start. He wasn’t ready for the whole family thing Quinn wanted.
They hadn’t even had sex. How was he supposed to think about the future? But he wanted
her.
He remembered her leg curling around his. Her tongue tangling with his. Her scent.
His dick twitched at the memory.
Indy had told him to make Quinn choose him. He’d done the opposite. He had to fix
that.
He went to his Rolodex and looked for the florist’s number. Daisies made her happy
before. He’d try his luck again.
Quinn checked her e-mail, searching for the next horrible date. One caught her eye.
The sender was O’Leary’s. Her heart jumped.
She clicked the message.
Hi. This is a friendly reminder you are registered to participate in our first ever
Speed Dating event tomorrow, Tuesday, June 25. Please respond to this e-mail to confirm
you will attend and whether you will bring a friend.
Quinn’s cursor hovered over the Reply button. She’d forgotten she signed up. It was
right before she fought with Ryan. Her eyes wandered over the text again. “First ever”
jumped out at her. He’d done it again. Ryan maneuvered himself into a position to
help her complete her list. She didn’t know if she should be pissed or grateful.
She clicked Reply and typed, “I’ll be there with a friend.” Indy would have to go
with her. Knowing Indy, she’d have a date lined up before anyone else. It would do
her good.
Quinn finished her cup of coffee and dressed in a simple yellow sundress. She packed
makeup in her purse and brushed her hair one more time. Her stomach flipped every
time she thought about the appointment.
She hadn’t thought Xander would have an opening so soon. It made sense, since Mondays
are not big for weddings. Luckily, Indy was free and would meet her at the studio.
Sliding her feet into white canvas sneakers, she checked her reflection in the mirror.
What does it matter what I look like now? All of this is coming off.
She shook her head and left, hoping it wasn’t too humid out. She didn’t want to drive
such a short distance, but she didn’t want sweaty, glistening skin either.
The air outside was warm, but not stifling. The sun on her face was hot. Her sunglasses
shaded her eyes, and a slight breeze tossed her bangs. A gorgeous day to walk.
Her shoes slapped the cracked concrete, and Quinn thought of anything except where
she was going. She thought of Indy and Richard. She’d only met the man once. He was
stuffy and rigid.
Even more than me.
He wasn’t right for Indy. He’d never accept all parts of her. She needed stability,
someone she could count on, but also someone who could enjoy and appreciate the spontaneity
that kept her going.
Quinn didn’t see Richard fulfilling the role. Their father would have a stroke if
he found out Indy was dating a married man. Disloyalty and betrayal were unforgivable
in his eyes. Almost divorced was still married. Maybe that’s why she chose Richard.
She turned the corner and stood in front of Hill Studio. She saw no sign of Indy or
her car. She checked her cell phone. No messages, but she was five minutes early.
The minutes ticked by with her feet tapping the pavement. She dialed Indy’s number.
No answer. She bit her lower lip. She didn’t want to be late and have Xander think
she was blowing him off. She texted Indy that she should come right up. Hopefully,
she hadn’t forgotten about this.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed the doorbell and waited for admittance. No intercom
crackled. The door buzzed and she walked in. A blast of cool air skimmed over her.
She walked up the flight of stairs. Before she could prepare herself, the door opened.
“Hi,” Cindy said. “Come on in. We’re almost ready for you.”
Quinn followed the bouncy girl. The spiky tips of her hair were purple today, and
Quinn saw a few piercings she hadn’t noticed on their last meeting.
The loft had been reconfigured. Tall bamboo screens broke up the airy, open space.
Privacy in case someone else came in?
“Would you like something to drink?”
Quinn returned her gaze to Cindy. “No, thanks. But my sister is supposed to meet me
here. She’s running late.”
As usual.
“No problem. I’ll be around to let her in so you won’t be interrupted.”
“Hello, Ms. Adams,” Xander said behind her.
She turned around. He stood in a small space between two screens. He wore low-slung
jeans and a painted-on white tank. He held a camera at chest height and fondled the
buttons.
“Hi.” She froze in place, not knowing what to do or say.
He shifted his body and tilted his head. “Ready to get started?”
She nodded and followed him. Her toes curled tightly inside her canvas shoes and she
clutched her purse. Behind the screens, a platform stood, looking like a bed covered
with a blue sheet and scattered with colorful pillows. Only the pointed corners revealed
it wasn’t a mattress.
“Do you have a specific pose or look you want?” he asked as he busied himself setting
up lights and umbrellas.
Quinn shook her head and realized he wasn’t looking at her. “No, I figured you would
tell me what to do.”
“That’s fine. Have a seat while I finish this.” He gestured to the platform.
She stepped on a stool and sat on the hard box. She sat still, afraid the sheet would
slide and ruin his setup. Her stomach threatened to heave and she toyed with the strap
of her purse in an attempt to calm herself.
Xander suddenly looked up as if feeling her tension. “Relax. This won’t hurt.” He
held her gaze for an extra moment. The automatic smile from his lips eased its way
up to his eyes.
Her fingers fidgeted with her purse. “I brought makeup because I didn’t know how much
to apply with the lights and stuff.”
He continued to watch her as he adjusted the height of a tripod. “A client who thinks
ahead. Always good. In general, a little heavier than normal shows up best. Unless
you want a more dramatic look.” He paused, studying her face. “You strike me as more
natural.”
She nodded. “Do you have someplace I can put my makeup on?”
“If you want, Cindy can do it for you.”
Her eyebrows shot up in question.
“She’s good. Her mom’s a cosmetologist. Cindy changes her look weekly, but she knows
what suits people.”
Quinn shrugged. “Why not?” Cindy’s hands were bound to be steadier than her own.
Cindy came around the edge of the screen. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Quinn dumped her purse out beside her.
Cindy picked through and turned to Quinn. She held Quinn’s chin between her thumb
and forefinger and tilted it up. “You have great skin. He won’t need to airbrush you,
that’s for sure.”
Quinn blinked. “Airbrush?”
“You know, digitally erase. He can make anyone look darn near perfect.”
“I thought airbrushing was for celebrities in magazines.”
“Uh-uh. Anyone can have it. Cellulite? No more. Stretch marks? Not in our photos.”
“Huh.” She hadn’t thought of that. Maybe Xander’s portfolio was so good because it
was fake.
Cindy dusted Quinn’s face with a light coating of powder foundation. Quinn closed
her eyes and said a mental prayer she wouldn’t end up looking like a clown.
“Open your eyes,” Cindy said. She stood, poised with eyeliner. “Are you going to freak
when I come at your eyes with this? It’ll totally ruin it if your eyes flutter and
tear up. If that’s gonna happen, you should do it yourself.”
“I’m fine. Go ahead.” Anything was better than thinking about getting naked. She didn’t
know where Xander went. He hadn’t spoken since he’d invited Cindy in. She heard movement
and assumed he was still rearranging equipment.
The doorbell hadn’t rung yet. Indy must’ve forgotten the appointment. At least she
wasn’t alone. Cindy had said she’d be there.
“All done.” Cindy scooped up the makeup and dumped it back into Quinn’s purse.
“Do you have a mirror?”
Cindy pointed next to Quinn’s thigh. A large, square, purple-handled mirror stared
up at her. She lifted it and studied her face.
“Wow. You’re good.” The makeup gave her a natural, polished look.
Cindy blushed at the compliment. “Thanks. I’m going to move your purse over to the
chair. You can go to the bathroom to undress and put on one of the robes there. Unless
you’re cool with walking through the studio in your birthday suit.”
It was Quinn’s turn to blush.
She pointed to the corner of the room. “The robes are washed after every client.”
Quinn stood stiffly and forced her legs to carry her to the bathroom. Her antiperspirant
was suddenly failing her. Her armpits felt moist even in the air-conditioning.
She shucked the dress and toed off her shoes. She took some toilet paper and dabbed
her underarms. Taking a pink robe from a hook, she hung her dress in its place. The
robe was lightweight cotton and landed mid-thigh. Modest enough. She shimmied out
of her panties and hung them on the hook underneath her dress.
Tightening the belt on the robe, she stared into her own eyes in the mirror.
You can do this.
She opened the bathroom door and padded quietly across the room with her head down.
Her silent pep talk did nothing for her nerves. She stood next to the platform and
waited for direction from Xander.
He looked up from the camera. “Ready?”
“As I’m gonna get,” she whispered. She undid the sash from the robe and exhaled.
“Stop right there.”
She snapped her head up at the immediate command. The robe parted only four inches.
Four inches of bare, exposed Quinn.
“Sorry. I tend to snap when I see a good shot. Open the robe slowly and let it slide
down your shoulders and drop to the floor.”
She stared at him and followed his direction, hearing the whir of the shutter on his
camera.
“Lie down on the platform. Sorry it’s not a real bed. A mattress sags and contours
and ruins things.”
She lay down on her side and felt her boobs hang sloppily. They weren’t huge or anything,
but they weren’t meant to hang sideways. She shifted and tried to make them stand
up and look better—perkier. She spoke silently to her stomach, begging it not to hurl
as Xander continued with his barrage of directions: tilt your chin up, look this way,
look down, smile, show me teeth. She painfully followed every instruction.
Every inch of her was exposed. She’d never been naked in front of a man she wasn’t
intimate with. And this was so . . .
intimate.