But that wasn’t likely to happen any time soon.
She came back to him, still smiling warmly—like she liked him, like she wanted to be around him, like she wanted to keep him in her life.
But not like she wanted him in bed with her.
As far as he knew, she’d never thought about him that way even once.
He didn’t think he was a bad-looking guy. Girls seemed to like him well enough, even if they didn’t know or care that he was “one of those Blakes.”
He wished a miracle would happen one day and Kelly would see him as more than a friend.
If she gave him even one little sign, he would pursue her exactly as his mother had advised.
But, without at least a sign that she would be receptive, it was too big a risk to take.
***
An hour later, Kelly was staring at a rack of dresses, desperately trying to find one that looked even a little bit like her.
There was nothing.
All of the dresses were too short, too low cut, too stretchy, too clingy, too sparkly, too wildly colored, or too all-of-those-things-at-once.
She reached for one that was more calmly colored in a solid blue, but then she groaned when she saw it had a diamond-shaped cut-out in the front that would display half of her breasts and most of her belly.
Peter laughed and grabbed the dress from her before she could put it back.
“Don’t laugh,” Kelly said, narrowing her eyes at him. “I didn’t see the front.”
“You should try it on,” he said, his gray eyes still warm and amused. “I’d pay good money to see you in it.”
“You shouldn’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not making fun.” Peter’s smile faded. “Why would I be making fun?”
She didn’t understand why he looked so confused, since the reason should be obvious. “Because I can’t wear dresses like that.”
“Of course, you could, if you wanted to. You’ve got a good body.”
She snorted and snatched the dress away from him. There was no reason to feel embarrassed, but she did.
“You do,” he insisted, turning to look through another rack of dresses. “You’re thin and you’ve got great legs. You could pull off any of these dresses.”
Now she was blushing, which was annoying, since she wasn’t the sort of girl who blushed. But Peter had never mentioned her legs before—or any other part of her body. She didn’t even know he’d recognized that she had legs. She kept her face turned away from Peter, so he couldn’t see her expression. “But they’re not my style.”
“I know. But I thought your sisters told you to branch out and try something different. What about this one?” He pulled a dress off the rack and showed it to her.
She stared at it, her eyes widening. “I can’t wear that.”
“Why not?”
The dress was tiny—very short with halter straps and a low neckline. It wasn’t as garish as some of the others, but there was a sheen to the pine green fabric, and she was pretty sure it would fit very tight.
“The color would look good on you. Try it on.” He pushed the dress on her, so she had to accept it, and since she didn’t see anything that looked better, she went grumbling to the dressing room.
Peter waited outside while she pulled off her jeans and top and stared at the little dress.
What the hell was she thinking? She wasn’t the kind of person who could ever wear a dress like this.
“Stop stalling,” Peter said from outside the stall. “Just put it on.”
“You’ve gotten really bossy lately,” she told him, pulling the dress on and praying it wasn’t going to be as bad as she thought. Peter would probably insist on seeing how she looked in it. She wasn’t a vain person—at all—but she also didn’t want him to think she looked stupid.
“It’s just a dress,” he said, as if he could read her thoughts. “How bad could it be?”
It wasn’t bad at all, Kelly realized as she zipped up the dress. It fit perfectly, and her bare legs looked very long and slim beneath the high hemline. She even looked like she had pretty good boobs, since the neckline accentuated her cleavage.
She stared at herself in surprise, feeling an unexpected swell of pleasure that she was capable of looking so sexy.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Peter asked. “Let me see.”
“Hold on.” At the sound of his voice, she was immediately self-conscious. Was she really going to open the door and show him how she looked in this dress? Was she really going to wear it in public? She wasn’t the kind of person who could pull off a dress like this.
What she needed was a sweatshirt to wear over it. Then she’d feel more like herself.