The Bridal Chronicles. Lissa Manley
to get away from the exasperating man with the gorgeous blue eyes, stunning smile, and his compelling reason to make sure the picture was printed.
Even though it went against her natural sense of fair play and altruism not to help him out, she had to ignore the guilt ripping through her and stand firm. Her future, her happiness, her self-worth were at stake. That picture would never see the light of day. Ryan would just have to get his publicity some other way, and she knew from experience that that was doable.
After all of the schemers who had betrayed and used her, she was done serving any man’s purpose.
Chapter Two
Ryan watched Anna clomp across the grass, her dress held high and her chin shoved into the air. A hearty dose of admiration overrode the puzzled irritation caused by her refusal to stay for the shoot. Most people saw him as a formidable foe and got the hell out of the way when he wanted something. She obviously had no problem crossing him. She was something else, all right, with her sassy threats and mule-headed refusal to cooperate.
He liked that. She was up-front and to-the-point.
Unlike any of the other women he’d known.
A vision of Sonya, the rich man-eater who’d burned him, thudded into his head. He’d met her through a mutual friend, and they’d hit it off right away. Quickly becoming inseparable, they’d become engaged after six months. He’d been happy and confident of their future, and had been totally unprepared for her calling off the wedding a month before the date. Apparently she’d determined—with quite a bit of help from her snooty parents—that despite his recent business success, he wasn’t rich enough for her taste. She’d left him almost standing at the altar, and had married a “trust funder” like her a week after she was supposed to marry Ryan.
Her cutting, unexpected betrayal had left him shell-shocked, hurt and pretty damn determined to avoid her kind—wealthy princesses who chewed up and spit out men they deemed unworthy.
But this Anna, well, she seemed to be a hardworking girl and nothing like the heiress who’d dumped him on his butt. Not that her being down-to-earth and normal really mattered. What did matter was that he wanted to keep needy little kids from having the kind of lonely, neglected childhood he’d had. He wanted the publicity for the foundation. Unfortunately it looked like Anna wasn’t going to help him out and sign that release.
And that was really a shame. If any woman could help him win Best Wedding Couple, she could. Man, what a beauty she was, all fiery auburn hair, big, gorgeous brown eyes the color of aged brandy, and smooth, pale skin. He’d need to start being solicitous, something he wished he’d thought of earlier. He impatiently unbuttoned his coat and loosened his bow tie, still feeling warm.
He had to convince her to help him out.
He stared at the tent for a second, his mind firing up. How could he change her mind to his way of thinking? Maybe he could turn her around if he knew what he was up against.
Maybe not.
Either way, now that the picture had been taken, he would do his best to make sure the paper published it. It was time to make use of his well-developed sales skills, honed from having to battle for every inch of his business success, to make Anna see the light.
A nice, conciliatory lunch seemed in order.
He headed toward the dressing tents, consisting of temporary rooms created by draped black fabric and wood frames. Anna was nowhere in sight, but he figured she was still changing, unless she’d taken off in full wedding attire.
He moved closer to the opening in the fluttering material, spying the reporter—was her name Colleen?—as he drew near. The tall, attractive blonde stepped out, looking as frustrated as he felt.
“She still changing?” he asked.
She nodded and gave a tiny roll of her blue eyes. “She’s pretty mad.”
“I know.” He loosened his tie more, which was beginning to strangle the life out of him.
She gave him a wry smile. “You must have really gotten under her skin.”
Before he could react to that regrettable assessment, Anna’s head popped out from between the sheets. “I can hear every word you’re saying, you know.”
He stared at her for a long second, knocked speechless again by her lush auburn hair, clear, stunning brown eyes, arched eyebrows and creamy, flawless skin.
What a looker.
Recovering, he gave her a lopsided grin and winked, determined to keep things light. Maybe humor would gain her cooperation. “Then we’ll have to save any secrets for later.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “How can you joke around?”
He shrugged. “Maybe we both need to lighten up.”
She looked at the reporter. “Can’t you get rid of him?”
The other woman backed away, waving her hands in front of her. “I’m not getting involved in any of this.” She took her keys out of her purse. “I gotta go.”
“Traitor,” Anna said under her breath, her face screwed into a frown.
The reporter laughed. “Hey, I’m not helping either one of you out.” She raised a brow. “You backed out on our deal, so you’re on your own, although I would like you to reconsider and sign the release. Think how good it would be for your business.”
Anna’s scowl faded, but the tiny crease between her brows remained. “I’m really sorry, Colleen. I lost my nerve.”
“I know. But my editor is expecting to go ahead with the whole thing, especially since you’re the last photo to be taken and the spread’s almost ready for production.” She turned to leave. “Why don’t you think about it and contact me later, all right?” she said over her shoulder. “And keep in mind how hard it will be for me to find someone else on such short notice.”
Anna half nodded and Colleen left. Ryan mulled over how Joe Capriati, the supervising editor, had stressed the importance of the photo-release waiver. According to Joe, the Beacon required the release because some woman had sued the paper after they’d printed her picture without her permission the year before. They weren’t taking any chances now.
He looked to Anna, gearing up to do a little steamrolling to convince her to change her mind and sign that release.
She had pressed her glossy, pink lips into a firm line and was glaring at him, something he didn’t get the impression she did very often.
“Please leave me alone,” she said.
He raised his brows. “Oooooh, that’s real scary.”
She sniffed and yanked her head back into the dressing room, rattling the curtain. “I can be scarier, I assure you.”
His smile grew. Even though she could blow his whole plan for damage control and good publicity for the foundation sky-high, he liked her gumption. “Yeah, you’re a real scary gal,” he said, searching for levity.
He then took out his handheld, electronic planner and consulted it. No meetings until four o’clock. Plenty of time to convince her to sign the release. “How about lunch?”
She popped her head out and blinked owlishly. “You’re asking me out?”
“Well, yeah. Is that a problem?”
“Maybe.” She disappeared again. A moment later, she emerged wearing a light pink cotton sweater and figure-hugging, dark blue designer jeans that showed off her trim but curvy body. She had her wedding dress, covered by a garment bag, draped over one arm and an oversized straw tote bag in the other hand.
He snagged another look at her curves without being too obvious, his blood percolating. Damn, she was hot.
“I don’t usually go