Red Shoes and A Diary. Mia ZacharyЧитать онлайн книгу.
beside the chair, tilting her head to see over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“I’m making a list of necessary traits for Mr. Fabulous. This way you can narrow down your search.”
“I’ve already made my choice.”
“Then, tonight at dinner you can see if Nick qualifies.” Julie looked up as she explained. “He’s got to be romantic. You know, the gift-for-no-reason and flowers-just-because type.”
Meghan didn’t really care about this. She just wanted to have great sex. Then again, being pursued and persuaded might be fun, too.
Julie went on. “He’s also got to be sensitive, so you feel comfortable exploring new sexual frontiers with him. Most importantly, he’s got to be ugly.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Leaning over, she tried to grab the pen away. “Nick is not ugly. Far from it.”
Julie wrestled the pen back. “According to all the talk shows, an ugly man won’t ever cheat. He’ll be too grateful a beautiful woman like you deigned to notice him.”
Meghan rolled her eyes. “What kind of crazy list are you making?”
“Okay, you can find Mr. Fabulous by yourself.”
She picked up the paper. In addition to romantic and sensitive, Julie had written adventurous, daring, heroic. A deep sorrow filled her. It was a description of her late brother-in-law. She looked over at Julie.
“I loved him and I miss him, too, but—”
Her sister met her gaze with a sad smile. “It’s all right to say Kyle’s name.”
Memories of him flooded her mind, along with her own guilt over the way he died. “I’m sorry, Jules. It’s just that I’m not looking for a man who chases after danger. Like you said, I need someone I’ll be safe with.”
“Nobody understands your fears better than me. I’ll always be grateful for the times you came over to stay with me. It wasn’t easy being married to a cop, living every day in uncertainty, wondering every night if he would come home.” Her voice was edged with grief. “But I wouldn’t trade a single day we were together, despite how things ended.”
“Oh, Jules.”
Understanding passed between them as Julie wiped a hand under her eyes. “But, hey, you’re not looking for a husband anyway. Come on, let’s get back to Mr. Fabulous.”
Grateful to change the subject, Meghan took out a fresh sheet of paper. She silently made out a list that included her real wishes, as well as a number of silly qualities guaranteed to make Julie smile again.
“Okay, Mr. Fabulous has to be worldly. I want to be able to discuss current events and world politics.”
“You hate politics, and when was the last time you read a newspaper?” Julie tried to grab the paper from her.
Meghan held on and continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “He also has to be intelligent, sensitive, romantic, successful, virile, sexy and prompt.”
“Prompt? Give me a break. Come on, admit it. All you really want is a guy who (a)looks like a fashion model and (b)makes love like a porn star.”
They both dissolved into peals of laughter. After catching her breath, Julie glanced at her watch and winced. “I’ve got to get back to work. I’m hosting a party by the Cascade Pool tonight and there’s still a lot to do.”
Meghan wrapped both arms around her sister in a fierce hug. “Thank you again. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“I’m so glad you’re here. You’re going to have a great week!” Julie kissed her cheek. “Hey, why don’t you come to the party? It’s the perfect place to look for Mr. Fabulous if Nick doesn’t work out.”
“I think Nick will work out just fine.”
Meghan smiled as she closed the door. She couldn’t wait to do the Cinderella thing. She was half scared and half excited, but totally committed. Tonight would be the beginning of something wonderful. She took a small green paisley book from her tote bag and went out on the balcony.
The man she dreamed about now had a face and a name. She leaned her head back against the chair, let her eyelids drift shut and let the fantasy sweep her away. Moments later, she opened her eyes, grabbed her pen, and flipped to the first page of her new diary.
The words flew across the paper as she tried to capture the image in her mind. Nick’s green eyes shimmer with an inner fire as he stares at Elise. When he speaks, his one-word command is rough with desire. “Strip,” he says and she slowly peels off her dress…
ALEX GRABBED a cold beer out of the minibar and headed for the balcony. As he passed through the living room he considered putting that champagne into the fridge, but he’d probably never drink the stuff. Then he noticed Meghan’s blue journal on the coffee table.
His conscience pricked him over keeping the book of fantasies. He assumed Meghan had been too distracted to remember, but he couldn’t forget it. He picked it up and, with perfect recall, imagined the entry he read before, except now the man and woman beneath the waterfall were him and Meghan.
He plundered her sweet mouth and slid her wet, naked body onto his, listening to her cry out in pleasure… He glanced at his watch and decided he had time to read a little more.
A while later, Alex reached for his beer. His mouth had gone dry about six pages ago. The bottle was empty. He wasted a couple of seconds debating whether to get another one. Instead, he lit a cigarette, then turned the page to the next entry. Just one more…
He got caught up in the wildly erotic scenes she’d created. As he read, he couldn’t help but compare the journal personality to the real woman. A profile emerged and he figured he had Meghan pegged. Smart, well-educated, middle-class professional. Sexual dynamite primed to blow a hole through the heart of the first man who touched her the right way. He wanted to be that man.
As he crushed out the half-smoked cigarette, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that it was all an act. The journal, the seductive innocence, the blushing attempts to flirt. Everything could have been carefully calculated to get past his defenses. After that mess in Overtown, Braga would be wary of another double-cross.
Alex closed the journal as the evening shadows stretched farther across the balcony, tilting his head to ease the kink in his neck. He also needed to ease the bulge in his jeans before meeting Meghan for dinner.
After a quick but satisfying shower, he shaved and got dressed. He slipped the journal into the breast pocket of his sports jacket on his way out the door, wondering whether to return it before or after they ate. He stepped off the elevator and walked across the lobby to the small lounge just off the atrium. He scanned the cocktail-hour crowd until he spotted Meghan at a corner table.
Whoa.
She wore a pale-pink dress that flowed over her body like water. He could see that the open buttons at the neckline revealed the swell of her breasts. The short skirt rode up her thighs, showing off the length of caramel skin. Her shapely calves crossed at the ankles and her feet were bare. Another pair of “seduce me” sandals lay abandoned under the table.
Alex forced his gaze to her face. She wasn’t wearing her glasses. She’d done something to make those gorgeous brown eyes appear smoky, mysterious. Her lips were painted a slick, glossy pink. Just looking at her was getting him hard again.
What was she wearing under that dress? The black lace bikini set? No, it would show through the pink fabric. The white satin one was more likely. Smiling as he moved toward her, he could just imagine the smooth material covering her sexy—
Alex stopped abruptly.
He was so focused on Meghan he didn’t see the man sitting with her—a man he knew very well. Memories assaulted him and he closed his eyes briefly. Gunshots. Chaos. The smell