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All the Way (Romancing Manhattan 1)

Page 34

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“I’ve been there,” he replies, and grips my foot in his strong hand, squeezing firmly. “Your leg is sore.”

“Long day,” I repeat. “It’s bound to get sore sometimes. But it’s not nearly as bad as it was even two weeks ago.”

He nods and takes a bite of his burger, and I stare at the way the muscles flex in his jaw. If you look sexy up in the dictionary, Finn’s photo will be there.

“How was your day?”

“The longest day of my life,” he says. “I didn’t think it would ever end. I’ve been thinking of you all day.”

“I like that.”

“Do you?”

“Hmm.” I nod. “It’s good to know that the person you’re thinking about is also thinking about you.”

“I agree. Did you get everything accomplished today that you wanted to?”

“I did. The house is ready to go for a while, and Tony, the caretaker, has it all under control. He’s worked for my dad since I was little, so I trust him, which is nice.”

“Tony’s great,” Finn says with a nod. “Your dad recommended him to me, so I hired him as well. And how does it feel to be home?”

“Better than I thought it would.” I look around my condo and out to the lights of the city, along with the noise. “I didn’t realize how much I missed the hustle and bustle of the city. Not to mention the shopping. I think I’ll have to talk Sasha into a trip to Fifth Avenue this weekend.”

“I don’t mind shopping myself,” he says with a wink, and finishes his burger.

“Really? Because the kind of shopping I’m talking about involves many hours deciding on shoes and handbags and lunch at the new café in Tiffany.”

“I haven’t been in that café yet,” he replies, and I narrow my eyes at him.

“Are you angling for an invitation to go shopping?”

“I must not be doing a good job of it,” he says, and then scoots back in his chair and guides me into his lap. He buries his face in my neck and takes a deep breath. “Fuck, you smell good.”

“So do you.”

“I’d like to go shopping with you this weekend.”

“Okay.”

He smiles against my skin and drags his hand down my back to my ass.

“As much as I want to carry you to your bedroom and sink inside you for the rest of the night, I have some work to do. Do you mind if we sit on your couch and I work for a bit?”

“Not at all.” I stand and clear our dinner dishes away. “The script Jeffrey told us about was waiting for me when I got home, along with the music score, so I’d like to start reading through it.”

“Excellent, we can work together,” he says, and takes his laptop out of his briefcase, along with a folder, and moves into the living room, sits on the couch, and gets right to work.

“Would you like a bottle of water?”

“Yes, please.”

I join him, with waters and my script, and sit next to him. He’s immediately drawn into his world of acquisitions and mergers while I open the script from Jeffrey.

This is nice, just being together. No expectations to entertain each other, or go do something. Rather, just living our lives together.

It feels comfortable. Normal.

Domesticated.

I grin as I begin reading and quickly fall into a new world.

She’s stunning.

I mean, she’s my best friend, and I already knew that, but sitting here in the dark watching her act and sing is just always such a joy.

Sasha has her script in hand, only referencing it occasionally, as she and her castmate work through the scene. The director calls out from his seat in the first row, and Sasha follows the direction beautifully.

She and I moved to New York a month apart from each other, and were both backup dancers in the production of The Lion King. We became fast friends, and were even roommates for a while. In a business where it’s hard to know who to trust, it’s great to have a best friend who not only gets it, but also has your back.

She doesn’t know I’m here. I’m content to sit and watch for a couple of hours, and when they call for a lunch break, someone whispers in her ear.

“London?” she shrieks, covering her eyes from the lights, trying to see me. “Where the fuck are you?”

I walk down to the stage and grin when she runs down to meet me, wrapping me in the tightest hug on record.

“Oh my God, you’re here! You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“That’s because it’s what’s called a surprise.” She plants a solid kiss on my cheek. “You’re not usually this affectionate.”

“Shut up, you almost died.” She sniffles a bit, then pulls back to see me. “And I haven’t seen you since you took off for that island.”



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