Midnight At Tiffany's (From Manhattan with Love 0.50)
Page 21
“I was very young. It was my way of escaping the hell of the playground. I started inventing characters who were nothing like me. They were always brave and never tall. It grew from there.”
“What sort of stories do you write now?”
“Romance. With plenty of action.”
“Action in the bedroom?”
She laughed. “And in other places. My current heroine L—” she stumbled “—likes to be the one in charge. She’s very strong.”
“Have you sent your work anywhere before?”
“No.” She was sprawled across him. “That’s why I was hoping to
meet Chase Adams, but that’s all blown now.”
Chase paused. “Where’s the book?”
“On my computer.”
“Send it to me.”
She turned to look at him. “No way! You’ll read it and hate it.”
“Send it to me. I’ll get it to Chase’s brother.”
“How? You know Chase well enough to ask?”
He hesitated, wondering how he’d reached this level of intimacy with someone who didn’t even know who he was.
“If you send it, I’ll make sure he sees it.” It would be an excuse to make contact with his brother. When had they last gone out for a drink? When had he made time for that?
Work had swallowed up his life, and that was going to change.
He was going to step over his pride and talk to his brother.
He was going to make time for the things he loved. The things he’d given up since his job had become a big hungry machine.
Sailing, cars, friends—
This woman—
“I want to see you again, Lara.” He hauled her close and lowered his mouth to hers. “This isn’t over.”
IF SHE WERE putting this scenario in a book, this would be a plot twist.
She was falling in love with a man who didn’t know who she was.
No, not love. She frowned at herself. Love only happened fast in stories where reality blurred with fantasy.
She watched as the rising sun sent fingers of light across the city and knew that this was one of those rare moments where real life came so close to a fantasy it was difficult to distinguish the two.
Talking to Alex, being with Alex, was the easiest, most natural thing she’d ever done. She never would have imagined it possible to share such easy intimacy with someone she’d met only the day before.
They’d talked and made love all night. They’d covered every subject. Never in her life had she felt so deeply connected to another human being.
This was intimacy.
Not sex, which could be shared by two people without the exchange of names or confidences, but this closeness. This level of trust.