giving him whatever he wanted.
On the verge, but not over the edge. Despite how guilty he was making her feel, probably deliberately, she just couldn’t go through with this photo shoot. She had belatedly realized that being in the public eye wasn’t someplace she could risk being. She might as well announce her true identity on the evening news, thereby sacrificing her “anonymous” identity.
Even though she still felt incredibly guilty that she couldn’t help his charity, she said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Cavanaugh, but I’ve made up my mind. I have no intention of signing the photo-release waiver and allowing this photo to go to print.” She looked pointedly down at the part of her dress he had in his arms, then clasped her hands together at her waist and gave him an imperious look. “Now please put my dress down. This photo shoot is over.”
She’d have to find a way to live with her guilt and with disappointing him and Colleen, just as she would have to sacrifice the exposure “The Bridal Chronicles” would have given her design business. Not exactly what she’d planned.
But not appearing in the paper did have its upside. At least she wouldn’t have to risk having her identity publicly unveiled, so to speak, and she certainly wouldn’t have to live through some awful, unflattering picture gracing the cover of the newspaper.
Not much of an upside. The guilt alone would probably choke her. But it was the best she could do given the circumstances.
Fighting frustration, Ryan gripped Anna’s dress, vaguely wondering what she looked like under that veil and why she was wearing the darn thing at all. Standing there, her hands clasped in front of her, the form-fitting, lacy dress she wore showing off her jaw-dropping curves, it was obvious she had a body for sin but was holding it like a schoolmarm.
Trying to ignore that sinful body, he focused instead on the question on his mind. Why was she so damned determined to run away from the shoot? Wouldn’t it be good for her business?
Whatever the reason, there was no way he was going to let her walk out on their stint as pretend bride and groom. Keeping other kids from going through what he went through as a child, with nobody who gave a damn about them, was a long-standing goal. He wanted the publicity for the Mentor A Child Foundation and he wanted the media exposure to improve his tarnished reputation. He wasn’t about to give up yet. He had to convince her to sign the release.
Time to appeal to her sensitive side.
“Can’t you help me out here?” he asked. “It’s just one photo, and you obviously intended to be part of this whole thing. It’s no big deal, right?”
“Wrong.” She tugged on her dress. “I changed my mind because it would be a big deal if we’re chosen Best Wedding Couple. And with you in the photo, looking…so, well…good, we’re virtually guaranteed to win.”
Her compliment surprised him and lit a warm space inside of him; he still thought of himself as the scruffy, half-starved little kid from the wrong side of the tracks. “While I’m flattered, I was thinking we’d win because of you,” he said, unable to squash the male curiosity that made him want to get a clear look at her face through her veil.
“You can flatter and charm me all you want, but I’m still not going to risk winning Best Couple.”
He frowned. “Isn’t winning good?”
“Not always. I…well, I just don’t want the attention, all right?”
He held up a hand. “But we’re only talking a few pictures in wedding clothes—”
“Which will turn into more pictures and interviews and attention I don’t want.” She shook her head. “Please try to understand.”
Damn. He’d assumed she was game for the shoot since she was here, decked out in full bride gear. Obviously, for some reason, that wasn’t the case.
Contingency plan. Time to change her mind.
He touched the tip of her creamy shoulder, exposed by her off-the-shoulder gown. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” he said, unable to help lingering on her smooth, warm skin. Did she have the face to go with her flawless complexion and stunning body, perfectly shown off by the pretty, figure-hugging dress she wore? “Lots of needy little kids will benefit.” Needy little kids like he’d once been.
She tugged on her dress, inadvertently touching his hand in the process. “I feel bad enough as it is, so please don’t try to guilt me into helping you out. Would you please let me go?”
Heat flared in his body and he tried to ignore how the mere touch of her hand almost knocked the wind out of him. Damn, he wanted to lift that filmy veil and see what she really looked like. Sweat broke out on his upper lip.
Get a hold of yourself and focus.
He was counting on the media exposure for Mentor A Child this chronicle thing would generate. He couldn’t afford to let his obvious attraction to Anna distract him and keep him from attaining that goal, or from counteracting the recent spate of image-bashing publicity his former employee Joanna’s personal vendetta had caused. Damage he needed to repair before the Mentor A Child Board of Directors decided he wasn’t the kind of guy they wanted connected to their organization.
For the sake of the foundation, he had to find a way to make this work, to help needy kids who didn’t have a loving adult in their lives and would fall through the cracks if the foundation wasn’t around to help them.
Like he had.
One way or another, he’d convince Anna to sign that release.
Luckily he was very good at getting what he wanted.
Her jaw set, Anna watched Ryan fiddle with the lace-edged train of her dress, wishing he’d let her go and leave her alone. “I’ll say it again, Mr. Cavanaugh. Please let go of my dress.”
He looked at her with those compelling blue eyes, a speculative expression on his face. He inclined his head. “Of course.” He let go of her train and smoothed it out. “Your tail thing is ready. I’ll walk you to the dressing tent.” He walked toward the makeshift changing area, a crease marring his tanned brow.
Relieved, but wary of his sudden turnabout, she fell in step beside him, ridiculously marveling at his strong, masculine profile. “I’m sorry I can’t help you out—” Without warning, her head jerked backward. “Hey!” She spun around and caught her shoe on an uneven patch of grass and teetered on the backs of her heels, her arms flailing.
Before she could find her balance, she fell sideways. Her veil, attached to her head with small combs, ripped off, jerking her head back again. She crashed to the ground like a felled tree, landing half on her rear, half on her back with a clump next to another thorn-encrusted rosebush, her gown poofing up around her like a giant marshmallow.
Her breath whooshed out of her and it took a moment to regain her wits. She slowly sat up, shaking her veil-less head, then looked up and saw Ryan peering down at her, his face creased with concern.
“Hey, are you all right?” He held out a hand. “That was some fall.”
She grabbed his hand, ignoring how warm and strong it felt, and pulled herself up, searching for her veil. She just wanted to escape before anyone recognized her. She could see the headline now:
Heiress
