“No, there’s nothing wrong with you.” Megan gestured with a nod toward the washrooms. “Look at that cutie over there. He’s speaking to another guy right now and pointing your way. I think he’s got his hose aimed in your direction, chicky.”
Taylor glanced toward the long hallway housing the washrooms—a hallway that she’d come from minutes earlier—and took note of the guy looking her way. As far as cute went, that firefighter had it in spades, but he was no Christian Bain. Not by a long shot. Still, he looked like a guy who could get the job done. And tonight, after watching Christian work the pool table, she desperately needed the job done. Either that or she was about to spontaneously combust.
As Mr. Cute Guy moved across the room, toward her, she noticed Christian’s body language and took in his watchful eye. Gaze riveted, he leaned against the pool table and perused the action with mute interest. His brotherly instincts were kicking into high gear, no doubt. When his blue gaze flitted across her face, it triggered a craving deep inside her—a craving she knew only he could sate.
Bending forward, Mr. Cute Guy put his mouth close to her ear, his warm breath hot on her neck. Speaking in whispered words, he said, “I think you lost something.”
Oooh, a new pick-up line. How refreshing. Taylor waited to hear more, but instead of whispering sweet nothings and telling her all the naughty things he’d like to do to her later that evening, he held his hand out.
Mortified, she swallowed down the lump rising in her throat and glared at the hair net swinging from his extended fingers.
Oh hell!
“I think this fell out of your bag earlier, ma’am.”
“Thanks,” she blurted out. With little finesse she snatched the hair net and stuffed it into her pocket.
How. Totally. Frigging. Embarrassing.
After Mr. Cute Guy twisted around and made his way back across the room, Taylor threw her hands up in the air, knowing it was time to make some changes before she turned into one of those little old ladies with four hundred cats.
“Okay, girls, I’ve had it. That’s the last time a hot guy my age is going to call me ma’am.” She slammed her hands down on the table, her voice taking on a serious edge. “It’s time for drastic measures.”
“What do you have in mind?” Megan rubbed her palms together, her blue eyes widening with interest.
After a moment she said, “Clearly, it’s time for a new wardrobe, new hair, new makeup and a new attitude.” Taylor glanced at the women throwing themselves at Christian. “I want to look and act like one of those hot babes. Then maybe Christian will finally notice me.” She chewed on her bottom lip and scanned the room. “Now, where to start?”
“Ask him to shave you,” Sara said.
Taylor’s eyes flew open, her jaw falling slack. “What? Shave me? What the hell are you talking about?”
Sara, who wrote sexy, hot topic articles for Entice, a Chicago-based magazine for today’s strong, sexually empowered women, pulled a copy of her latest publication from her tote bag. She flipped open to one of her articles. “Here, look. I did this piece on shaving the pubic area and took a poll on which style men liked most, which just so happens to be the landing strip.”
Taylor glanced at the periodical and read the descriptions beneath each picture. Close trim, Brazilian, triangle, patch, au natural and landing strip. She pulled a face. “You want me to ask Christian to give me a landing strip?”
Sara nudged her with her elbow. “Hey, he needs to park his bicycle somewhere doesn’t he?”
“Sara—”
Sara cut her off and lifted her arms, putting her palms face out. “Taylor, you’re giving me that look again.”
Taylor cocked her head and planted her hands on her hips. “You mean the one that says I think you’re insane or the one that says I’m insane for having this conversation?”
Sara chuckled. “Both. Listen, just hear me out before you veto my idea.” When Taylor nodded in acquiescence, Sara continued, “You two are friends, right?”
“Yeah, we’re pretty close.”
“So take the magazine over to Christian’s place and have a little fun with him.”
“Having a little fun with him is what I’ve been trying to do all along, Sara.” Taylor pulled the elastic band from her hair and ran her fingers through her curls. She shook her head, letting her long hair tumble over her shoulders. “That’s my whole point, but he doesn’t look at me with lust in his eyes.”
Sara quirked a brow and Taylor could almost hear the wheels turning. “No worries, my friend. I know just how to change all that.”
“Please, enlighten me.” Unconvinced, Taylor shot Sara a dubious glance.
“Play the friendship angle. Tell him you’ve been in a long, dry spell and just ask him what he likes in a woman. Pull the magazine out and ask him which shape he prefers, then mention you’re out of shaving cream. Once you’ve taken the game that far, you might as well go all the way with it.” She leaned in and whispered, “And sweetie, you just never know what might pop up.”
Megan squealed. “I think this is a perfect plan, Taylor. It’s time to show him you can be friends with benefits, tease the shit out of him in the process, and really make him pay for not begging you to ride his banana seat sooner.”
Sara touched Taylor’s hand, her mouth curled at the corners. “If anyone can pull this off, Taylor, it’s you.”
Jesus, she could hardly believe her friends had come up with such a devious, delicious plan. Actually, she could hardly believe that she hadn’t thought of it herself.
As her mind sorted through matters, and the outlandish scheme to get Christian to see her as more than
