Every Woman's Fantasy. Vicki Thompson Lewis

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Every Woman's Fantasy - Vicki Thompson Lewis

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      “ASHLEY, I’M SCARED.” Charlie McPherson watched her older sister close out the cash register for the day. Ashley had worked her butt off in retail for five years and now owned Glam Girl, home to some of Austin’s trendiest fashions.

      Ashley glanced up. “About what?”

      “Mark wants to meet me.” Charlie wasn’t into fashion, which was why she desperately needed advice and moral support from her big sis.

      “Hey, you’ll be fine.” Ashley smiled. “Perfectly fine. He’s a lucky guy.”

      “You’re my sister. You’re supposed to say that.”

      Ashley gazed at her. “I don’t blame you for being nervous,” she said gently. “Let me finish up here and we’ll go get a couple of big old margaritas and talk about it.”

      “That would be good.” Margaritas would definitely help give her the courage to explain her problem.

      If she looked more like Ashley, she might not be so scared. Her sister could just as well be modeling fashions as selling them. Charlie envied three things about Ashley. She was nearly five-eight, which allowed her to wear every outfit in the store without hemming it. Secondly, her rich brown hair was wavy, not curly like Charlie’s, so she could wear it long. Last of all, their parents had given Ashley a terrific name which required no fiddling to make it sound right.

      Charlie had to hem up almost everything she bought, and if she didn’t keep her blond hair short, she looked like Medusa. As for her name, she was still ticked off at her folks for saddling her with Charlene. Nobody these days was named Charlene.

      She’d shortened it to Charlie, which sounded more twenty-first century and suited her outdoor lifestyle, but it wasn’t half as distinctive as Ashley. Of course, Charlie had to admit she didn’t look like an Ashley. Ashley belonged to someone elegant, like her sister. Nobody had ever accused Charlie of being elegant. Cute, bouncy, full of energy, yes. Never elegant. Making Charlie elegant would take a miracle.

      Twenty minutes later, as Charlie sat across from Ashley at their favorite Tex-Mex restaurant, she was hoping her big sister would help her pull off that miracle.

      “Here’s to a great first date with Mark O’Grady.” Ashley lifted her frosty glass and touched it to Charlie’s.

      “Amen.” Charlie took a sip of her drink and set it on the square cocktail napkin. Then she looked over at her sister. “The thing is, when Mark suggested we write to each other for several weeks so we could really learn about each other before we met, I got this idea.”

      Ashley put down her drink, too. “Which was?”

      “I decided to change my image.”

      She had Ashley’s total concentration now. “To what?” she asked carefully.

      “Well, you know how most guys treat me like the girl next door. They see me as wholesome, low-maintenance, stuff like that.”

      “Charlie, that’s because you are those things. They’re all pluses, in my book.”

      “Whatever. The point is that in my whole life, I have never made a guy drool.”

      “Oh.” Ashley gazed at her and the wheels were obviously going around. “So what kind of image does Mark have of you?”

      “I didn’t lie or anything,” Charlie said quickly. “I mean, he knows I work for an outdoor adventure company, and he’s seen my picture so he knows what I look like. But I made him think that underneath that girl-next-door persona I’m also this…well, this really hot babe. I, um, wrote some pretty racy stuff, things I probably would never have the nerve to say in person.”

      Ashley looked taken aback, but gradually her green eyes warmed. “Ah, I get it. You’re afraid that when you two meet, he’ll expect to jump into bed right away, and you’re not ready for that.”

      “But I am ready for that.”

      Ashley blinked. “You are? Oh, Charlie, I don’t think that’s a very good idea. You need to—”

      “I need to experience unbridled passion for once in my life! With every other guy I’ve dated, there’s no mystery, no tension, no lust. But now I have that. We’ve had three months of postal foreplay. We are so loaded with tension. I just don’t want to mess up and diffuse it.”

      Ashley stared at her. Then she took a quick drink of her margarita and cleared her throat. “Okay, let me get my bearings here. I can understand wanting to make a guy lust after you. But I can’t go along with the hopping-into-bed part. I realize you’ve exchanged a lot of letters with Mark, but that’s not the same as face-to-face contact. You need to give it more time before you get into a physical—”

      Charlie let out a gusty sigh. “You sound so ‘older sister.’ Haven’t you ever gone to bed with a guy on the first date?”

      Ashley blushed. “We’re not talking about me.”

      “What? We should live by different rules?”

      Her sister looked disconcerted. “Well, I—”

      “Exactly. We shouldn’t. Now I’m not saying I will go to bed with him right away, but I might, if I don’t mess it up and come on like a camp counselor on the first date. I want you to help me look like a sex goddess.”

      Ashley’s eyes widened. “If Mom and Dad could hear this conversation, they’d have a hissy-fit. I’m supposed to look out for you, not help you get into trouble.”

      “Oh, so that’s it. Look, when I moved to Austin I was twenty-two. Maybe I needed some looking after. But hel-lo, I’m five years older now! I’m even older than you were when I got here. And, damn it, I want to feel sexy and glamorous for once in my life. Will you help me or not?”

      Ashley studied her for a long moment. “I don’t know. This feels sort of weird. Do you have any idea where he’ll take you on this first date?”

      “Not yet.”

      “Well, once you know that, I’ll…I’ll at least help you find something great to wear.”

      “Great as in nice, or great as in hot?”

      “Oh, God.” Ashley looked at her and shook her head. “Unbridled lust? Are you sure that’s what you want?”

      “Yep.”

      Ashley rolled her eyes. “Mom and Dad would have a cow.”

      “CHARLIE’S PERFECT. My dream girl. My soul mate. My happily-ever-after.” Mark brushed peanut shells from the table and wiped away a ring of moisture left by his empty beer bottle before laying a dog-eared picture on the table in front of Sam. “Look at that face and tell me she’s not perfect.”

      “I’ve seen her face. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one who picked her out of the stack and told you she had promise.”

      “And you were right!”

      “It remains to be seen whether I was right,” Sam said.

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