Confessions of a Serial Dater Page 29
He’s hot and disheveled and out of breath. And I’ve never seen him looking so utterly gorgeous, I think, as I reach up and smooth back his floppy hair. I’ve wanted to do that forever.
The crowd quiets in anticipation as it collectively waits for the outcome of my flight of fancy. And I’m frozen into speechlessness.
“It’s you,” he teases, breaking the silence, his eyes crinkling as he smiles down at me. And I’m nervous, exhilarated, anticipatory, as my heart pounds so loudly in my breast that the whole airport must be shaking with it.
“I think we can safely say that it is, in fact, me,” I smile back, my voice as shaky as my legs. And then, “Just in case there was a slight possibility you missed it, I think you should know that—I—I love you.”
“I didn’t really believe it until I heard you say it. By the way, I love you right back,” he says softly. And then, just before he kisses me, he pauses as he sees my feet. “What happened to your shoes?” he asks, raising a James Bond sardonic eyebrow at me, and I laugh.
“They didn’t fit.”
“We are definitely going to have to do something about your footwear situation,” he says, lowering his head.
And as he kisses me, and as I’m winding my arms around his neck, the crowd lets out a roar of approval as they clap and cheer.
And as he kisses me some more, another announcement booms from the public address system.
“For those very few of you not currently crowding the security check-in area, you’ll be delighted to know that Miss Rosie Mayford has located Doctor Luke Benton. We’d like to take this opportunity on behalf of Virgin Atlantic and all staff at Heathrow airport to wish them a happy future. The weather is fair for a happy landing.”
Ten months later…
Luke and I got married this morning, and he kept his promise about looking into my footwear situation.
His wedding gift to me was a pair of beautiful, custom-made, Italian silk shoes, and they fit like a glove.
“Thank God,” Luke murmurs against my mouth as he carries me over the threshold of the honeymoon suite and closes the door with his foot.
I’m all gorgeous and demure (but in a sexy kind of way) in a long, white dress, and Luke is all tall and sexily rumpled in a morning suit.
“Sweet Mystery of Life, at Last I’ve Found You,” is not, thank God, playing in the background, because my blood is pounding so loudly in my ears that I can’t hear another thing.
Unable to wait a moment longer, we are tugging at each other’s clothes.
Before we can make it to the bed we’re all over each other like a rash. In frustration, because his fingers are shaking so badly that he can’t undo the tiny pearl buttons on the back of my dress, Luke slides his hands under my skirt and pushes it up to my waist, and then he’s—
Oh.
My.
It’s a crime what this man can do with his hands…
Acknowledgments
My heartfelt thanks to all the generous members of Deanna Carlyle’s Yahoo! chick lit loop for their support and for their help with weird job descriptions. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ChickLit/
My heartfelt thanks also to all the generous members of the Chick Lit Writer’s of the World loop for their support and for their help with weird job descriptions. www.chicklitwriters.com
Even more heartfelt thanks to my agent, Paige Wheeler, and to my editor, Kelly Harms, for their great editorial advice.
And finally…much love to Lani Diane Rich and Alesia Holliday for being their wonderful wacky selves. www.literarychicks.com
You’re simply the best!
About the Author
MICHELLE CUNNAH Originally from England, Michelle spent six years living just outside Manhattan. She has lived in quite a lot of other places, too. Currently she can be found weebling ineptly along the cycle lanes in Rotterdam, the Netherlands. She aspires to be able to cycle without hands. Maybe one day…
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By Michelle Cunnah
CONFESSIONS OF A SERIAL DATER
CALL WAITING
32 AA
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
CONFESSIONS OF A SERIAL DATER. Copyright © 2005 by Michelle Cunnah. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition January 2007 ISBN 9780061740688
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