by Theresa Alan
Amy imagined that their meeting would run long and he would ask her to dinner. The meal would go on for several hours and many drinks. She’d have a little too much alcohol, and he would offer to drive her home. She would say that was very generous of him. She would get in his car and relax in the comfortable leather seats. He would say he needed to stop by the office for just a moment. She would accompany him in. In the empty office building of the software company he’d founded, they would sit beside each other on the comfortable gray couch in the reception area. He would put his hand on her leg. She’d pretend to protest, but only for a moment. He would slide his hand up her leg, beneath her skirt…
Amy realized suddenly that he’d asked her for something, and she had no idea what, since she’d been too busy fantasizing about an illicit tryst with him. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” she asked.
“I asked when you’re getting married.”
He gestured to her left hand. She followed his gaze and saw that she’d been spinning her engagement ring around and around her thumb.
“Two months.”
“Still getting used to the ring, huh?”
“Yeah, I suppose so.” And still getting used to the idea of being married, apparently.
Amy suspected that it wasn’t a good sign to be daydreaming about having sex with other men when she wasn’t even married yet.
It’s just a fantasy , Amy assured herself. She could think about anything she wanted. She just couldn’t act on those feelings. And she didn’t want to act on the feelings anyway because she loved Eric. He was the love of her life.
Right?
Amy and Brent continued discussing budgets and economic forecasts for another hour or so, with Amy struggling to focus on doing her job and trying to keep her lust toward a man she’d only met a couple hours ago in check.
When the meeting with Brent was over at last, Amy put on her winter coat and her leather gloves. She picked up her briefcase, gave Brent a big, confident smile good-bye, and exited the Meyer Technologies building into the cold March air of the Colorado Rocky Mountains.
She got into her car, turned on the ignition, and sat for a few minutes as the car warmed up, staring blankly at her dashboard in a daze of confusion.
What was wrong with her? She never fantasized about hurling a strange man across his desk and doing X-rated things to him.
Amy just didn’t do things like that.
Maybe that was her problem. Maybe that’s why things had fallen into such a rut at home. Sex between Eric and her was always so…polite. It had always been like that. When they first dated, she thought of Eric as clitoral heroin. They use to have sex for hours; there had been a time when they couldn’t get enough of each other.
That time was long gone.
It wasn’t that she was having problems with her husband-to-be. Not exactly. On the surface, everything was perfect. They’d moved in together eight months ago and they rarely fought. They were comfortable financially and lived within their means. Neither of them gambled or drank to excess. In other words, their lives were unbelievably boring. And Amy had no idea what to do about it.
Lately, Amy’s life felt hallow, empty. A husk. A shell. Something barren of substance. Her life was a memory. An aftertaste. Something that could be imagined, but was not actually there.
She knew this was not how a bride-to-be was supposed to feel. The truth was that even amid all the hubbub of planning her wedding, her days were gauzy.
As she pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic, she thought for the millionth time of how much she was looking forward to her trip and getting away from the prewedding insanity.
Amy had arranged to meet her college girlfriends Caitlyn and Leah at a spa in Mexico for two weeks. She wanted some sort of aerobic dominatrix to force her to get in shape for her wedding pictures. This way, she could get in shape while catching up with her two best friends. Caitlyn and Leah were going to be her bridesmaids, but she knew they wouldn’t have any time to talk at the wedding. Things would be much too crazy for that. They’d been drifting apart ever since graduation—when Leah took a job as a biologist in Portland; Caitlyn had returned to Chicago where she’d grown up; and Amy accepted a position as a financial consultant in Denver. Amy supposed that there was no way to help the fact that they weren’t as close as they’d been in school, but that didn’t mean she liked it. On this trip they’d be able to relax and catch up and become skinny, sexy vixens while they were at it. It would be great.
Sun. Exercise. Friends. She would be feeling like herself again in no time.
When she got back to her office, Amy dropped off her coat and briefcase and went to the kitchen to heat up a low-calorie, taste-free frozen meal. She brought it back to her office in time to hear her extension ringing. She figured it was her wedding planner calling yet again to ask her about yet another detail. Amy had done the financing on major corporate mergers that were less stressful and time-consuming than planning a wedding. It was just one more reason she couldn’t wait to get away.
“Hello?” She sat in her chair, setting her lunch on the desk in front of her.
“Hey, babe.” Eric’s voice sent a jolt of guilt through her.
“Hi. What’s up?” She attempted to sound casual; she wondered if she was pulling it off.
“Christine and Adam want to know if we want to go to dinner Thursday night before you leave for your trip.”
“Oh,” Amy said, disappointed. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Christine and Adam, she did, it was just that every time she and Eric got together with them, they talked about how they’d spent their weekend sky-diving or hang-gliding or deep-sea diving or engaged in some other life-threatening activity. Amy never had any desire to do any of the potentially deadly or injurious things they did, but it made her feel dull by comparison. All Amy could add to the conversation was, Well, this weekend Eric and I ordered in pizza and watched a NetFlix movie so we didn’t have to leave the house even once. It’s not quite as thrilling as parasailing or hiking up Kilimanjaro, but we live a full life anyway as you can plainly see. “Sure, that would be fun.”
“Great. I’ll let them know. How’s your day?”
“My day? Oh, you know, the usual. And you?”
“It’s going well. Do you want me to cook tonight?”
“Cook? Yeah, that’d be great.”
“Okay. I’ll think of something good. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“See you tonight, hon.”
“Tonight,” she repeated dumbly before returning the phone to its cradle. She stared at the phone for a moment as her heart thumped painfully, as if Eric could somehow psychically know all the traitorous thoughts she’d been having.
Exhaling, she turned to her computer and opened an Excel file. Listlessly, she took bites of her chicken and vegetables, luckily not tasting any of it. When she dropped a sliver of a carrot into her keyboard, she turned the keyboard over and banged on the back of it as if she were attempting to make a baby burp, watching the food go flying out from her technological Heimlich maneuvers.
She tossed the rest of her lunch into the garbage and swiveled in her chair, her eyes taking on the glazed look of someone drooling at the asylum.
That glazed look was replaced with bright, alert eyes when her email pinged to let her know she had new mail and she saw the name on the FROM line. As she read the email, her heart raced.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
I really enjoyed meeting you this morning. You’re an incredibly beautiful woman. And smart, too! Can I take you out for a drink after our meeting on Friday?
Strictly for pleasure, no business.
She blinked, then tentatively she hit REPLY.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think my fiancé would appreciate me going out for drinks with a handsome entrepreneur.
Before hitting SEND, she stared at the word “handsome.” She knew she was being deliberately flirty and provocative. She was never flirty and provocative. But just now, she didn’t want to be herself. She wanted to be daring. She wanted to be a risk-taker. As adrenaline surged through her veins, she hit SEND.
She stared at her computer screen for a full minute. Oh God. Had she stepped over the line? Had she…
Her email pinged again.
To: amy [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Your fiancé doesn’t have to know.
Amy swallowed and tried to get her breathing to return to normal. She clearly wasn’t cut out for a life of crime or high adventure if sending a few emails nearly gave her a heart attack.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
It’s tempting, but I’m leaving for Mexico on Saturday and I need to pack.
She was already packed; the truth was that she didn’t trust herself alone with Brent and alcohol.
The ringing phone made her jump. She’d been so focused on watching her computer screen for a reply from Brent, that the shrill sound of the phone made her feel like a burglar who’d been caught, and the alarm was signaling the police. It was the reaction, she knew, of a guilty person. She wondered for a moment if it might be Brent calling her.
“Hello?”
“Amy, hi.” It was Gretchen, her wedding planner. “Listen, have you made any progress on the dress?”
Amy exhaled. “I told you, I’ll make my decision just as soon as I get back from the spa. I want to lose a few pounds before I make my final choice.”
“Amy, you know how important the dress is. The seamstress can always take it in when you lose a few pounds. I just don’t get you. You searched for three weeks straight so you could find the perfect periwinkle blue shade of tablecloths, but when it comes to something as vital as the dress, you leave it to the last second. I’ve never had a client with more exacting taste than you. I like it, I’m a perfectionist myself, so I appreciate a woman who knows what she wants, I’m just saying…”
“Gretchen, I appreciate your concern, I really do. I’ve narrowed it down to two dresses. I promise I’ll pick one just as soon as I get back.” One of the dresses was simple and conservative. It fit Amy perfectly, she felt comfortable in it, and it suited her personality completely. The other dress wasn’t Amy at all—it had elaborate beadwork and looked like something Cinderella would wear to the ball. It showed off Amy’s cleavage and Amy never showed her cleavage, even when she was home alone. But she’d fallen in love with the dress when she’d tried it on. Maybe it was that when she tried the dress on, she felt like the woman she wanted to be instead of the woman she was. “Look Gretchen, I really…”
“Wait, wait, I need to ask you about…”
Amy’s email pinged. “Sorry, I need to go. I’ll talk to you before I leave for Mexico, I promise.”
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
A rain check, then?
Amy hung up the phone and, before she could think, she wrote back.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
We’ll talk on Friday…
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022
Copyright © 2007 by Theresa Alan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 0-7582-2489-3
Table of Contents
GETTING MARRIED
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
SPA VACATION